The Moment

I sit and look across a garden, wild and unkempt, already baking in the warming of the day. 
The verandah posts and railing that frame this view hearken back to a quieter, less hurried time, when moments such as this were taken for granted. 
Now I find myself grasping at this scene with an intensity that is disturbing, almost frightening. 
To hold this image, this fleeting fragment of time, and forever clutch the sounds, the smell, the very feel of the air in my mind so it can be cherished and lingered over during moments of retrospection, this has suddenly become the urgency of my day.
And yet, 
If I allow it, this moment's peace will seep into my bones and become a part of me forever. 
And when I close my eyes, it will spring to life in the window of my mind, and the breath of the breeze will blow the warmth of the day across my face, bringing with it the sounds of birds, and leaves, and Life....

Watch

When the boy had turned seven, Allan decided he was ready, and one afternoon he said to him, "Come down the shed and give me a hand for a bit, can you?"
"Sure" replied the youngster, without enthusiasm, and slowly followed the old man through the summer heat to the wooden shed that was both a haven and mystery to the boy. His slower pace meant that Allan was already seated on the old bar stool with the cracked vinyl seat and rusty legs when he came in the door. He sat, hands on his knees, squinting into the daylight as the boy entered. "Shut the door, I can't see a bloody thing!"

In the sudden semi-darkness, the boy was half-blind for a moment, but before his eyes could adjust, Allan had switched on the old naked bulb that hung from an extension cord tied to the roof. Then he snapped on the light he used to illuminate the workbench when he worked. The smell of oil, both linseed and machine, mixed with the scent of wood-shavings and dust, suddenly became stronger, the closed door cutting down the ventilation, and the feeling of the shed brought everything around him into sharper focus. He wasn't often allowed in this place, except to help with specific jobs, and while he was not exactly forbidden to come here on his own, the old man had made it clear that he didn't approve. So this invitation, without a clear objective, made him curious and a little nervous.

He stood at the end of the bench, the old man seated half-way along it, his profile showing sharply to the boy in the glare of the naked bulb. "I want to show you something," Allan mumbled, the gruffness of a moment before suddenly gone. He fumbled in his shirt pocket, an old Army shirt that he preferred because it had "bloody decent pockets a man can keep things in", and withdrew a silver object, which he weighed in the palm of his hand. The boy stepped closer, curious.
Allan glanced sideways at him and smiled slightly, "Have a look at this"

In his palm, shining in the electric light, lay a silver pocket watch, plain and unremarkable. The boy had seen them before, and thought they were terribly old-fashioned, but something in the old man's tone told him it held meaning for him, so he asked "What is it?"
"This watch was given to me by my father." Allan said, "He bought it when he got married, and he gave it to me, so it has seen the best part of a century in this family. One day it will be yours, but not today!" and he suddenly smiled with a rare warmth, that made the boy smile in return. "Today I want to show you something special about this watch." the smile vanished and he looked expectantly at the gangly figure in front of him;"You ready?"
The boy nodded, aware now, that something significant hung in the air around them. The Summer afternoon noises seemed muted now, and he concentrated on the old man. Turning the watch over, he opened the front cover with a click of a button, and regarded the white face, black Roman Numerals, and the slightly filigreed hands that showed twenty past three. "Here," he said, "Look at this" Inside the front cover were two sets of initials, engraved in the upper portion. "My Father's initials, and mine," he said, gently passing his finger over each as he spoke. "And one day, yours will be here too."

He watched silently as Allan fumbled in the wooden tool carrier he kept on the bench and found a tiny screwdriver. Allan shut the case, turning the timepiece over once more, and examined the back. The boy watched the old mans hands, leathery and stained from decades working in the shunting yard, suddenly become nimble and deft, as he pried open the watch and set it gently in the pool of light cast by the workbench lamp. "Come closer," he almost whispered, "I want you to see this."

Using the tiny tool as a pointer, Allan explained the movement of the watch as it worked before their eyes. "See this little one? That's working the seconds, and see how this lever moves this one more slowly? Well that's the minutes wheel, and when the seconds wheel does a rotation, this wheel moves one tooth." Suddenly fascinated by the new world he never knew existed, the boy pressed closer. "So what makes it work? A battery? I can't see one!"
"No battery!" Allan scoffed, "This is real mechanics! Look here, see this?" He jabbed the screwdriver at a dark spiral almost hidden behind the network of cogs and levers, "Do you see? That's the main spring. That's the heart of all this motion. Without that spring, nothing in here would work. When I wind the watch, I put tension on this spring...that gives it energy, and it transfers that energy to all these wheels, cogs, and levers, to make the watch work. But you have to be careful. Do you know why?" He looked intently at the boy, who, with an insight older than his years, didn't answer, but looked at the lined, serious face before him, and simply shook his head. Allan turned back to the watch..."Because if you put too much pressure on the heart....on the spring, it can get over-wound and stop the clock...or if there's a flaw in the metal...some weakness, then the spring can break, and nothing can be done to make it work again.." He stopped and drew a deep, suddenly shaky breath. There was silence as both man and boy contemplated the workings before them, both listening to the soft ticking in the warm, still air.

Finally the boy spoke; "That's what happened to Dad, isn't it? His heart had something wrong with it."
After a moment, "Yes" said Allan, "Yes, mate, that's what happened." And as if a gate had been opened, he spoke steadily, never taking his eyes off the watch. "There was some problem with his heart. We didn't know. No-one knew, not even your Dad, I think. But one day he didn't come home from work, and your Mum discovered he was at the hospital. They said it was very sudden, and no-one saw it coming." Then, his voice trembling slightly, he continued, " Your Mum was heart-broken, and she has done her best. I know she won't talk about it, but I think you need to know. She still has trouble sometimes, I know, and it's good that you come and visit us to give her a rest, and let us see you".

In the silence that followed, the boy leaned closer to the old man's side, both of them watching the wheels turning in the silver enclosure of the timepiece.
"Grandpa," he said, finally," before you give that watch to me, I think we should put my Dad's initials inside with yours. After all, he was supposed to have the watch, too. He was your son"
Allan's eyes glistened in the bright light, "That's a good idea, mate. Let's do that"

Allan and Dot- The Beginning

To him, she would always be Sunshine, Tennis, and Knowledge. In fact, decades after they met, he still saw her standing in the sharp sunlight of the tennis court, smiling, the sun bouncing off her brown curls, whenever someone mentioned her name in her absence.

She arrived when he was 16, ready to finish school and start his apprenticeship. As the daughter of the new Headmaster, Allan had no reason to cross paths with her, but cricket practice took him past the tennis courts in the afternoons, and she played tennis.

The first time he saw her was there, on the court. Her grin flashed as she laughed at something in the game, and she was still smiling as her glance slid across him, and came back to look at him closely. He was smitten from that moment. He nodded shyly as he kept walking, and, had he looked back, he would have seen her watching him walk away.

One day he met her leaving the court as he walked home from practice, and surprised himself by finding the words to introduce himself. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Dorothy Evans, and yes, I know who you are", she had smiled, "Frida told me all about you." He had cringed inwardly, imagining what the self-appointed judge of Immoral Behaviour would have said about his Working Class upbringing. Whatever had been said, though, did not seem to bother this out-going, confident young lady, who was soon waiting for him after practice so she could walk some of the way home with him, parting ways at the railway crossing; she turning left to head to her family's house next to the school, he continuing on to the railway worker's cottages that waited beside the line.

She was older than him, by a year and a bit, something which would have normally made him uncomfortable, but her bright nature and broad smile made her seem younger, and his initial uneasiness passed. She would tease him to make him smile, and gently draw him out, until he was telling stories about himself and his life that he had never spoken of before. One evening, he took her hand in his as they walked. She was silent and looked down, biting her lip, but she squeezed his hand tight and didn't let go until she had to...

Small towns have few secrets, and word soon spread that Allan Stewart and Dorothy Evans were "spending time" together. Dorothy thought it was funny, and would actually wave happily to the slightly parted curtains, and chuckle when they slipped shut. "Don't worry", she would say to him when he felt angry at being spied on, "We aren't doing anything wrong!", but he still felt he was being judged somehow.

By the end of Summer they were more than just friends, and had begun discussing the future, and what it would bring. Allan had his Apprenticeship with the local mechanical workshop, so he knew what the next year would bring. Dorothy, on the other hand, was leaving. She had always planned to attend Teacher's College, and had accompanied her family to this new town purely out of curiosity and to fill the Summer holidays. Now she felt torn.

Life had been so clear to her a few months ago, her plans were made, and everything was in place. Now this stocky, dark-haired young man with the serious face and tender smile had up-ended her world and made her wish that her commitments could disappear...but they couldn't. She had made promises, been accepted to College, and her family had made a substantial financial sacrifice to send her away for her education. Headmasters may earn more than teachers, but not a lot more, especially in small towns. More than once, Dorothy wept silently in the dark.

For his part, Allan felt a certainty he had never known before. If she left, she would come back. It would be hard, he knew, but he had his work, his family, and his sport. He knew it was much harder for her than for him, but she would come back. If she didn't leave, then he knew he would be able to deal with the recriminations from her family, and the Town itself. He felt sure and strong in his belief. He loved her and he would protect her from anything. Everything would be alright, no matter what happened.
The thought of her leaving and not returning was so crippling that he refused to let it cross his mind...

The Sports Club held a picnic day at the end of the Summer season, with trophies and speeches, food and games. Dorothy delayed her departure until the Monday after the picnic, so she could spend one last day with Allan.

Unbelievably, in what was almost an act of conspiracy, everyone attending the picnic that day seemed to pretend they were not there. After the trophies, and the speeches, which they were obliged to attend, they were not asked to participate in the games, food preparation, or even the general discussion. Even the younger children who often made a sport out of teasing young couples, were curiously absent. Allan and Dorothy found themselves alone, seated apart from the crowd, although still within sight,(propriety can only be pushed so far)under a huge Gum Tree, by the Lagoon.
She sat with her back to the tree, running her fingers through his hair as he lay on his back next to her, gazing into the distance.

"Why do you call me Allan?" he suddenly asked, "Why not say "Al", like all my mates?"
She didn't pause stroking his hair, "Because Allan is your name. It is all of you, it represents everything about you. If I shortened your name, it wouldn't feel like I was acknowledging all of who you are. And I love all of who you are."
He was silent for a long moment. She had told him before that she loved him, but never like that. He thought hard. "Well, I can't call you Dorothy any more. It isn't right."
"So what will you call me then?" she whispered.
"Dot."
"DOT! WHY?" She was stunned, torn between anger and incredulity.
"Because," he said, turning on his side and squinting up at her through the dappled sunlight, "You are like a period at the end of a sentence. To me there is no more. You complete my life. After the Dot, there is no need for anything else. That's why I love you, Dot."
She laughed and suddenly burst into tears.

In the Corner

He was comfortable, he knew, sitting in the padded outdoor chair, with the blanket over his legs. They always put him here, in the corner of the large patio, out of the breeze and looking across the garden to where the land fell away toward the hidden creek. He dozed more than he looked, these days, and often found himself missing much of the conversation that went on around him. Sometimes he thought that actually suited his family more than they admitted.

"Go and tell Grandpoppy that lunch is nearly ready", he heard his Granddaughter's voice from behind him, in the kitchen. "Okay," answered a child, and a moment later a blonde pony-tail leaped into his field of view and his great-granddaughter said "Grandpoppy, Mummy says lunch is nearly ready!".
He smiled and nodded, raising his hand slightly; which one was this? Kathryn, Kathleen? He wasn't sure.. "Thank-you,... ah, Sweetheart". She hesitated a moment, and then skipped back inside. "Why can't Grandpoppy ever remember my name?" he heard her ask, "He always forgets!" He heard her mother pause in her bustle of preparation, "It's alright Katina, he doesn't mean to forget," she said, "Grandpoppy is getting very old now, and he can't remember a lot of things. It's just what happens when people get old. He still loves you just the same".

He felt a pang of anger. Just what happens when you get old....
Still, he had to admit that some things weren't as sharp in his mind as they once were, or perhaps they just weren't as important as others thought they were. He glanced at his hand, as it lay resting on the blanket in the Autumn afternoon. The imprint of his wedding band, now put away in a box somewhere, was still plain on the finger of his left hand. That memory hadn't faded. Fifty-two years of marriage was still sharp and clear in his mind. He could still feel the taut muscles in his wife's back, as he put his arm around her after the wedding ceremony, and heard himself whisper to her "Relax, Dot, it's over, and you are beautiful", and feeling her slump a little in relief, and happiness, as she burst into tears in his arms.

The warm sun on his skin suddenly reminded him, and he raised his hand to touch the scar above his eyebrow, a thin silver line that brought into his mind the baking heat of a country cricket ground, heat-waves rising into the air and it wasn't even lunch-time yet! Wally Johnston wasn't particularly tall, and he was a good mate, but Wally's bouncer had laid him out flat that day, and left him with the scar and a story to tell. Funny how that memory was so fresh...

He lowered his arm, and the mark on his forearm caught his eye. That was where the shrapnel had gone in and opened his arm up like a good Butcher's knife. The flap of muscle had hung there, "like a bit of Rib Fillet" he used to say, laughing, while Dot begged him not to, her eyes haunted by the thought of how close he had come to never returning home. But he had come home, and she was as beautiful as when he had left. And he swore never to go away again.

Yes, he would admit, he was getting old, but his world was as sharp and clear, and as present as ever. He would have to say sorry to Katina for not recalling her name. He nodded his head. Dozing, hearing the preparations for the meal, he drifted and saw Dot once more, standing at the door of the house, smiling. Felt the sun on his back as Wally ran up to bowl. Heard the rush and felt the sting of hot metal. Heard a little girl say "Grandpoppy, come to the table now". And he nodded... smiling... "Alright Katina, just one minute".
He closed his eyes and dozed, and dozing, he was gone.

Ok, Time To stop Now... Or I'm Going To Slap You!

Alright everyone, you can stop now. You've all had your chance to run around waving your arms in the air, screaming that the Sky is Falling, and that it's the End Of The World, and We're All Doomed.
Time to stop being hysterical and start acting like grown-ups.

I've been waiting for people to settle down for a while now, waiting for them to stop screaming about the Boogie-Man and start noticing that we haven't all been raped and killed in the aftermath of some Nuclear Apocalypse brought on by a demented Red-Headed Despot Hell-Bent on the Destruction Of Us All... Nope, we're all still here.... But people haven't stopped to notice.

Subsequently, I feel it is my duty as one of the few that has earned his "How to Behave in a Crisis" Badge, to remind everyone of some things that have happened recently. I will start with the things you DID see, followed by the things you THINK you saw, and finally, giving you a glimpse of what you SHOULD have seen, but you were all too busy being emotional and manipulated by people who will be making a buck out of your support down the track.

I will not be getting too deep into each topic, or we will be here until Judgement Day, but I will give you the "Headlines" if you like. Any lack of particulars can be researched by you. I expect my readers to be at least semi-literate, or else I'm wasting my time even more than I thought.

Okay, you all Saw Donald Trump inaugurated as President of the United States of America. The guy who said he would expel the illegal immigrants, build a wall, make America great again, etc. You also saw that he had promised Draconian measures against abortion, climate change, various research areas, and Terrorism. You saw him sign the Decree banning U.S. NGO's (Non-Government Organisations) from providing abortion advice to overseas populations. You have also seen Trump ask the Military for options on ways to increase the effectiveness of the Military's fight against Terrorism.You also saw Congress asked to consider a tax on all goods imported from Mexico, to help pay for the "Wall".

As of my writing this, that is about all you have actually seen President Trump do... except move house and offend people because he doesn't let his wife go first... (I have no explanation for this, maybe he was badly brought up...)
So now, let me tell you what THINK you saw in response to the things you SAW;
You think you saw The Netherlands and some other nations (this is just the Headlines, remember?), set up a fund to counter the funding and information shortfall created by the withdrawal of U.S. services in abortion education in Third-World Countries.
You think you saw climate-change institutions and research facilities scramble to back-up, safe-guard or make open to the public, all data on their files so it could not be erased, corrupted, or twisted to serve some Anti-Climate-Change Agenda.
You think you saw NASA open its' years of research to the public domain for the same reason.
You also think you saw the Military let off the leash so they can plan indiscriminate war against nations and groups it deems are hostile.
You think you saw Congress asked to consider a tax which would hurt Mexico's Economy and make it more expensive to buy goods made there.
Of course you think that...that's what you were told you should think.

I do not hold a degree, I am not a professional in this field. I am just a Layman observer who tries not to become too involved in the emotional story. I try and stand back and see the other factors surrounding the situation. What I am about to say is MY OPINION ONLY. I don't get paid to write, in fact I sacrifice a lot of sleep in order to write. I do not subscribe to any political camp, and I do all my own thinking. In saying that, please be aware that I have not fabricated or twisted any of the facts. I have simply looked at them from a different angle.

This is what the protesting, terrified public, (some of whom I know personally, and whom I like a lot), SHOULD have seen over the last few days;
Trump signs the Anti-Abortion Decree, and suddenly a whole bunch of nations who refused to contribute any more than they already were, suddenly found the cash to fill the hole left by the U.S.A.. So rather than reducing the information available to Third-World countries, there is now just as much information available, and most of it from nations that are more Pro birth-control than the U.S.. Hopefully, down the road, when the U.S. comes back to the fold, this will result in an INCREASE in services in this area. Funny how nations can find the bucks when they need to.

The Climate-Change Institutions and NASA suddenly say it's alright for everyone to have access to their information... for free!! Hang on...why now? Is the threat of losing or having facts perverted the only way we were going to get our hands on all of the data without paying for it? So if Trump had not been the Scary Guy, and had not been elected President, would we, the public, paid for or been drip-fed information about our planet as it suited these Institutions? Those that read my blog may recall that when Elon Musk released all of Tesla's patents to the public domain, I said that it was a smart move, and that the new Tesla would be a remarkable car. I was right. Imagine what can be done with this.

You should have seen that the Military, in considering its' options for the escalation of pressure on Terrorism, will be first considering a number of measures put in place under the Obama Administration, but not acted upon "at this time". Chances are, much of what you see the U.S. Military carry out in the near to medium-term future, will be Obama Presidency Plans carried out by Donald Trump. This includes an increase in troop numbers on foreign soil. Trump may have his face on the flag, but Obama signed the blue-prints.

Finally, you should have seen that a tax on goods made in Mexico does several things...it imposes a tariff, which automatically makes the same goods produced in the U.S.A. much more attractive price-wise, and it encourages U.S. corporations who manufacture in Mexico to pull manufacturing back to the United States in order to be competitive. Finally, it sets a precedent; if a tax can be put on Mexican produced goods, then why not others, so that industry can return to the U.S. and boost employment and the Economy? This effect would not be immediate, but could eventually benefit the U.S. as a whole. Don't forget, an increase in skilled labour demand in the United States always generates a market for unskilled labour to fill the gap...a long-term benefit for Mexico.

Does this make Trump a good guy? Not necessarily, but it does tell us one thing that everyone overlooked. The election of someone that acts against that which you know is right, is not a cause for protest. It is a cause for action, to make sure that the causes closest to your heart are defended and made stronger, in spite of the actions of others.

Whether deliberate or inadvertent, I don't know, but President Trump has instigated greater material action for the benefit of all nations in the last week, than Obama did in the first month of his Presidency. Obama generated congratulatory celebration, Trump has galvanised change.

So don't despair...look again...this is an opportunity to not only make America Great again, but to also make the Great Things in America even Greater.... and maybe, if we play it right, the whole world can benefit...

Australia Day....Are We Being Adults About This?

This Blog may lack some relevance to readers who don't live in Australia... but then again, it may strike a chord...

As Australians, we have taken particular pride in celebrating our National Day in a uniquely Australian way. We love Barbecues, Cricket, the beach, the bush, the beer, and an incredibly informal celebration of our lifestyle.

That is all changing. No longer do we celebrate until it gets out of hand... the Cronulla riots put an end to that. The Barbecue is now tamed, with warnings about setting examples for our children, and eating food that is cooked all the way through... honestly...there have been advertisements on radio and television! The beach is now a dangerous place, with shark and jellyfish warnings, and sun cancer threats limiting our time in the sun. Beer is now a mid-strength, generic brew that promotes a healthy lifestyle... and the bush? Well the bush is now a romantic place where well equipped four wheel-drives can access mountain tops and remote vistas for a camping break, and still get you home in time to get the kids to school tomorrow. No more remote, hard-life bush with primitive tents and flies and mosquitoes.... unless you happen to live in the real bush...

Australia Day is still a celebration of our Nations' Founding, but it is a sanitized, politically correct celebration, one that shows us what we have been told we should be, not what we really are.
Australia Day is also under pressure from a movement that wants to change the day from a celebration of the landing of the First Fleet at Botany Bay on 26th January 1788, to a day of mourning for the Indigenous Peoples of Australia.
This movement is gaining strength, and the message being pushed is that we should change the date of Australia Day to one that is less distressing for the Aboriginal People who began to be dispossessed of their land from the moment permanent occupation by Europeans began.

I can understand the feeling that Aboriginal people throughout this continent must have toward Australia Day. It must be a reminder of the beginning of mistreatment, exploitation, war, murder, dismissal, denial of Rights, and finally, an attempt to remove their Race from the genetic pool of planet Earth. I acknowledge all those things, and, despite my initial misgivings, I support the Apology offered by Kevin Rudd.

Australia has come a long way in a short time. The Aboriginal flag,often compared to the Southern Cross of the Eureka Flag as a symbol of rebellion, has now become an accepted part of our celebrations in both the sporting and cultural arenas. Cathy Freemans' triumphant victory lap at the 2000 Olympics, with the flag draped across her shoulders in company with the Australian flag, ensured that acceptance of her peoples' symbol would be universal, and so it has become.
The "Welcome to Country" that occurs at every major, (and most minor) sporting and cultural events, is now so accepted that it raises no comment, criticism or protest from any audience or commentator. A mere decade and a half ago it was seen as a novelty at best, and a protest at worst.
The questions on every Government form, asking whether you are of Aboriginal, Torres Strait,or Islander Heritage, are now not even given a second thought. They are a part of life.
And yet... And yet...

The problem of Australia Day remains.

As a second generation Australian, (and my wife is a first generation Australian), I have a problem with the idea of moving Australia Day. Not because I am bigoted and uncaring, not because I am racist and hateful, but because I love this country. My forebears arrived here in the late 1800's, leaving a home that offered them less opportunity than one on the far side of the world, after a dangerous sea voyage. They sacrificed much, and in return, gave everything they could to make themselves, and, by extension this country,succeed.My wife's parents left a war-ravaged Europe, abandoning family, memories, history, and the chance to rebuild, and chose to start again in a land of hope. To them, Australia was every bit as precious and beautiful as it was to those who had been here for lifetimes, because Australia was Safe, Beautiful, and a place without Judgement. Australia was Hope.

My Great-Grandparents, and my wife's parents took no part in the mistreatment of Aboriginal people. They did not regard them as being different to the Americans, Chinese, Islanders or other "Wogs" that had arrived at the same time as them. In fact, they were often treated as badly. They were all discriminated against as "New Chums" or "Reffos", "Chinks" or "Abos". It didn't matter, you were not quite "there" until at least a generation down the track.
As an Australian, I am sorry that incredible cruelties were inflicted on the ancestors of our modern Native People, but it was not my family that inflicted those cruelties. My wife has no relatives on her Father's side because a genocide destroyed her father's family. Should she never allow the German people to move on from that? Her Father married a German girl after the war...in Australia...they made it their home.
Should they also never be forgiven for what was done to the Aboriginal people?


I suppose my biggest question in all of this is "What is it that the Aboriginal People Want, in the End?"
Modern Australians have apologised, we have granted Land Rights, we have recognised Citizenship, we are working on correcting Educational and Health discrepancies in our Society( a long process, I know, but we have acknowledged it and are working...), Sporting and Academic recognition is now common-place, and often separated to give Indigenous recipients greater recognition.
And now you want to move Australia Day.


Please understand, I am not attacking Indigenous Australia. I realise the pain is deep and the desire for recompense is strong, but I do not know at which point my Indigenous friends (and I mean that literally), will say "That's it!! we have what we were looking for. You can stop now,,"

After all, I can't leave this country and "go home'. This is my home. I have no other.

By the same token, many White Australians resist change for the mere sake of resistance, and a fear of what is new, but that attitude is easily overcome, and should not be held up as an example of "How things should be"

I have heard many Aboriginal people say that they have a connection to Land. They know when they are "Home", and it means so much to them. That connection is born of thousands of years of living in a particular space. I can understand that.
Do you know why? Because I feel it too. Perhaps not as strongly, perhaps not as spiritually, but I feel it. Until the day I die, I will know that my home is in the Brigalow, and as much as I love where I live, I know that the country I was raised in, where my family lived, will always be home. My Sister, who lives on the other side of the world, will, when reading this, feel the same longing for the Brigalow trees and Melon-holes of home as I do right now.

So. My query is this; Do we continue to find new things to argue about, to grant, or take, to enforce or refuse, or do we sit down and start to talk?
A serious discussion must occur between our First Inhabitants, who must stop appointing Leaders and then call them "turn-coats" if they appear to get along with Government, or appointing Leaders and calling them "too difficult" when they take a hard line with policy issues, and the White People of Australia, who must take a vital and informed interest in our First People, and who must hold our politicians accountable, and ensure that justice and fairness is applied to everyone that lives in this wonderful land, and that no-one misses out.

My answer to my own question is this;  Let's talk,,, you and me..and let's talk about it all. Let's be honest, and let's give each other the chance to work together to get it right. Maybe we will move Australia Day. Maybe we won't, but we will never know what the right decision is until we start a conversation, not just have demands.

Until then; Happy Australia Day, one and all. May the spirit of Mateship and good-times infect you all....