Month: December 2020

Music, Poetry and Cats

I grew up with music, poetry and cats. My father, Kenneth Ramsey, was a mechanical engineer and he fixed clocks at home. He always had the wireless on or played classical records on his radiogram. Our backyard was full of racing pigeons, bantams and cats. I see the picture of me holding our cat in an uncomfortable position. Who was that girl? Perhaps that is why I write, to make sense of the past. I know I loved our rambling garden, sitting down in the chook coop and sticking my feet in the drum of wheat, or licking dew drops from nasturtium leaves.

We were poor, but as a child, I felt rich and never knew how poor we were until later because I was loved, fed — and clothed in rather cool hippie clothes from op-shops. It was the sixties, and I grew up with inspirational singer-songwriters like Leonard Cohen and Bob Dylan. My father loved poetry and had bookshelves full of it. He read poems to me from an early age. My mother, Joan Ritchie, was a country girl with a Yugoslav father, and she was a wonderful storyteller. She read to me every night — I liked scary stories like Little Dog Dingo and the Hobyahs, and The Mystery of the Green Ghost. Words from poems and stories swirled in my mind at night.

On Hating School and Forgotten Memories

My father didn’t allow TV, and we didn’t have a car, so riding my bike, reading and listening to songs, stories, and poems was my life. My mother made up stories about my brothers and I and told them with great expression, often scaring the shorty pyjamas off us! I enjoyed primary school and still have my best friend Yasmin to share memories with. We played recorder for Magill School and were chosen to play at the Festival Theatre. I never thought of becoming a writer.

I thought writers were born special people and I wasn’t… but I did make my own little books. I’d stick in favourite chicken feathers and cat whiskers and write about my pets. Here is a poem about growing up and all those things you think you’ll never forget, yet they become increasingly hazy.

I hated high school and only attended a day or two a week. Fortunately, my mother was kind and let me stay home. I made sure I attended exams and important lessons. I liked art, biology and English but detested maths and sport. I had pen friends and liked doing crosswords. I was never asked to write a poem in primary or high school. However, I kept reading the poetry books my father gave me, little suede-covered books with poems by the English masters and others.

Most people had never heard of my favourite poets, like Christina Rossetti, Charles Kingsley and John Greenleaf Whittier. It was like I lived in a different era, with all Dad’s clocks, antiques and books but no TV, car, phone, or mod cons. Now I think I was fortunate because I don’t watch TV, I read and write and love getting out into nature.

I was 17 when I matriculated from Norwood High School and went to teachers’ college. My father had just taken his life.  He had ‘manic depression’ as they called it in those days. I’m sure that if today’s bi-polar medication were available things would have been different.  This was a terribly difficult time for Mum, my brothers and me. I wrote a diary when he died, and it took 20 years before I could read it again. I’d get it out and just put it back again. But eventually, I found I could write about him and his life.

The Flim Flam Writer

I dropped out of teachers’ college and got a job, ironically, as a writer – for Flim Flam’s Singing Telegrams. I loved this job and often stayed back late on a Friday, writing dozens of ‘telegrams’ for the weekend. The recipient’s family or friend would phone me, and I’d collect information about the ‘victim’, then write a humorous piece to a well-known tune. Our singers dressed up as apes, bunny girls, superman, etc., and delivered the telegrams at parties.

My father had been strict, but my mother was not, so my life changed, and I went out with friends and boys and enjoyed the years before marriage. My two older brothers, Andrew and Robert, were always great friends and we went to lots of things together. I never wrote anything in my 20s, but in my 30s, after my son Giles was born, I began reading contemporary poets like Gwen Harwood, Judith Wright and Sylvia Plath and found an exciting new type of poetry. I loved these contemporary women poets’ voices because they said things that I felt or thought, and their words were powerful, often brave.

I used to make jewellery and sell it in markets. One day there was a palm reader opposite my stall. He read my palm and said I had a ‘poetry fork’, and I should try writing it or studying it. So, I enrolled in the four-year TAFE Ad Dip in Professional Writing. What a great move that was. I learnt much and was fortunate to publish my first book Knifing the Ice during the course. Shortly after, I landed my dream job at the SA Writers’ Centre, where I worked for many years with the brilliant Barbara Wiesner as Director. I also taught at Uni and TAFE. I am so grateful for this chain of events and to everyone who helped me along the way.

And Now?

I’ve had a range of jobs over the years, including Flim Flam’s; the Taxation Dept; Telstra; doctor’s receptionist; apple packer; Central Market cheese seller; Manager at SA Writers’ Centre; Cultural Development Officer for local council; TAFE lecturer; and for many years a part-time accordion seller at Ron Pearce Music. My variety of jobs and experiences has been an asset to my writing.

Now I earn my living as a freelance writer, editing, mentoring, running workshops and giving talks. I would like to have more time to write but know how fortunate I am to have a career in something I am passionate about. I recently ran workshops at Pembroke Senior School and was thrilled to witness a new generation of imaginative and compassionate poets at work. I love working with people of all ages.

A Beloved Role Model

One of my most loved role models was my grandmother, Nellie Noble/Rerecich/Dunstan/Norton. I loved her spirit of adventure and her respect for nature and remote places. I spent most school holidays with her in different rural towns. She passed on to me an affinity with wide-open spaces and deserts. Nanna was quite nomadic. With her third husband, Bobby, she went around Australia in a little campervan.

Unlike today’s grey nomads, they bought little shacks and homes along the way and stayed a year or two, then moved on. She lived in places like Andamooka, Port Kenny, Lightning Ridge, Cockle Beach, Weeroona Island, Fisherman’s Bay and El Alamein Beach. She loved opal mining and fossicking and had a dugout. She sometimes saw ghosts and loved telling stories about her travels. I am writing her life story. It is on the back burner, along with an almost completed book of South Australian ghost stories.

I wrote the poem below ‘Small Town Jetty’ thinking of the many visits to little seaside towns to see Nanna and Bob (he was a loving grandfather to us, although not related). My memories come back to me when I begin to write. I feel so lucky to have such a colourful and interesting grandmother and family. I will never run out of things to write about.

Good Things Along the Way

I am grateful to so many people who’ve helped me on my writing journey, too many to name. Although special thanks go to my faithful feedback friends Louise Nicholas and James Ogilvy. Thanks also to Friendly Street Poets for publishing my first book and to Wakefield and Ginninderra Presses for publishing my books. And thank you, Lindy, for asking me to be part of this blog.

In 2018, I was thrilled to be awarded the Barbara Hanrahan Fellowship, which funded the writing of my forthcoming book, Big Backyard. After my grandmother died, I rarely went into the South Australian outback, but that has changed. My new book is about Adelaide’s big backyard: the north of our state.

Thanks to the fellowship and to my wonderful tour-guide and factual editor, Brenton Stringer, I have taken research trips to Innamincka, Birdsville, Marree and other places, including ghost towns, old graveyards and ruins such as Warrakimbo Woolshed near Hawker. We arrived on sunset, and the fiery light made the ruins and the past come back to life. I know my grandmother would have loved camping with me. If only…

The Warrakimbo Woolshed is located in the Flinders Ranges near Hawker.

Three of My Favourite Poems

I don’t much like housework, but I do enjoy hanging out the washing in my wild garden.

I think that being poor as a child and facing some challenges has made me a stronger person and a more compassionate writer.

I wrote this poem, personifying poverty, for all those who’ve struggled with making ends meet.

I have kept poultry all my life and am greatly rewarded by their daily antics.

Jude’s poems, stories and articles have been published in Australia and abroad. Her poetry collections include Beauty and the Breast, Furry Tales, On a Moon Spiced Night and Knifing the Ice. Jude has taught creative writing at Flinders University, TAFE SA and in high schools, community centres, libraries and a prison. In 2018, she was awarded the Barbara Hanrahan Fellowship. She is a freelance writer, editor, teacher and mentor who likes helping people on their writing journeys. Jude lives at Milang on the shores of Lake Alexandrina, where she enjoys gardening, rural life, and collecting old bits and bobs.

Jude’s publications are listed below.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

All stories, poems and photographs remain the copyright of Jude Aquilina.