The Taming of the Shrew

  "My tongue will tell the anger of my heart,

Or else my heart concealing it will break,

And rather than it shall I will be free

Even to the uttermost as I please in words."

The World

We were a people wasting ourselves
In fruitless battles for our masters,
In lands to which we had no claim,
With men for whom we felt no hatred.

R S Thomas,' Welsh History'

#aubama

Lincoln

~ Vachel Lindsay

Would I might rouse the Lincoln in you all,
That which is gendered in the wilderness
From lonely prairies and God’s tenderness.
Imperial soul, star of a weedy stream,
Born where the ghosts of buffaloes still dream,
Whose spirit hoof-beats storm above his grave,
Above that breast of earth and prairie-fire—
Fire that freed the slave.

***

Well, what a blast. President Obama on a whirlwind visit to Canberra. Since 3.30pm yesterday we've been transfixed with the unfolding narrative. It's been non-stop entertainment with Air Force One and the Beast, choppers and F-18 hornets overhead, high rhetoric and corny gags in Parliament House.  (We'll be looking out for the introduction of 'ear-bashing' into the vernacular in Washington.)

Speculation was rife, starting with conversations in the sandpit on the school oval and reaching fever pitch in the corridors late yesterday, that #aubama would visit our school but it was not to be.  He called on Campbell High School instead, dash it.  But I'm so glad it was a public school warts 'n all.  You've got to admit that BO is mighty charismatic.  We've been swooning all day in the office following twitter feeds and ABC news. Tragic isn't it! And now he's gone, it's all a bit flat.  Imagine if the First Lady had accompanied him.  We'd have been completely starstruck ;)

Still, he dedicated a white oak tree planted in grounds of the American Embassy so there's evidence it was not a mirage, and here's what he wrote in the visitor's book at Parliament House. 

"To the People of Australia, with whom we have stood together for a century of progress and sacrifice. On this 60th anniversary of our alliance, we resolve that our bonds will never be broken and our friendship will last for all time. Barack Obama." 

Poem: From General William Booth Enters into Heaven and Other Poems | 1913

The Honorable Members

Parliament Hill in the Evening
~ D.H. Lawrence

The houses fade in a melt of mist

Blotching the thick, soiled air
With reddish places that still resist
The Night's slow care.

The hopeless, wintry twilight fades,
The city corrodes out of sight
As the body corrodes when death invades
That citadel of delight.

Now verdigris smoulderings softly spread
Through the shroud of the town, as slow
Night-lights hither and thither shed
Their ghastly glow.

***

This #newscorpse saga is captivating.  Doesn't the House of Commons Question Time run ticketty boo?  So much the Australian Parliament could learn.  Fast and furious questioning (in an interesting mix of accents just like in a BBC costume drama).  Articulate, well-considered and alternately humorous questions in rapid fire.  Gripping viewing for the school holidays.  Perfectly timed.

There also seems to be a good proportion of women MPs in Westminster.  I'm in awe of Louise Mensch and Nicola Blackwood in particular - young, Conservative MPs and members of the two select committees conducting the hearings.

The seating arrangements in the UK Parliament are considerably more compact than the comparatively luxurious leather lounges in our chambers. Perhaps the more intimate surroundings and close proximity to the front bench, and each other, shoulder-to-shoulder, has something to do with the speed and vivacity of the debate.

The Rt. Hon John Bercow MP, Speaker of the House of Commons, is also a cracker.  Watch out Harry Jenkins.

Old things

You Are Old, Father William

      ~Lewis Carroll

"You are old, Father William," the young man said,

"And your hair has become very white;

And yet you incessantly stand on your head-

Do you think, at your age age, it is right?"

"In my youth," Father William replied to his son,

"I feared it might injure the brain;

But, now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,

Why, I do it again and again."

"You are old," said the youth, " as I mentioned before,

And have grown most uncommonly fat;

Yet you turned a back somersault in at the door-

Pray, what is the reason of that?"

"In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,

"I kept all my limbs very supple

By the use of this ointment-one shilling the box-

Allow me to sell you a couple?"

"You are old," said the youth, " and your jaws are too weak

For anything tougher than suet;

Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the back-

Pray, how did you manage to do it?"

"In my youth," said his father, "I took to the law,

And argued each case with my wife;

And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,

Has lasted the rest of my life."

You are old," said the youth, "one would hardly suppose

That your eye was steady as ever;

Yet, you balanced an eel on the end of your nose-

What made you so awfully clever?"

"I have answered three questions, and that is enough,"

Said his father. "Don't give yourself airs!

Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?

Be off, or I'll kick you downstairs!"

Seriously people, I am going to sort and get organised today.  There are bags of outgrown clothes stashed in the garage and boxes of toddler toys and books looking for a new home.  Rather than dump our old but good quality gear at the charity shop, (particularly as they seem to have become fashionable places for middle class 'thrifting'), I prefer to donate to organisations whose missions align with my values.  Some of my favourite ones in Canberra include Karinya House for mothers and babies, St John's Care at the parish in Reid and the Refugee Resettlement Committee at St John the Apostle in Kippax.  Small groups of people doing specific work to meet practical needs.  

Photo by me: The Strong Silent One's work boots.  He probably thinks they have a few good years of service left in them.   Intended to depict the old and worn, not an item suitable for charity, although I daresay these boots would be welcomed by the very poor in the Third World.  Sad thought really, and one which always bothers me when we need to discard our used and outgrown things.  

Valuing Diversity

There was a small boy of Quebec

Who was buried in snow to his neck

When they said, "Are you friz?"

He replied, " Yes, I is —

But we don't call this cold in Quebec"

A bit of flurry this morning finalising the 'costumes' for the Valuing Diversity Parade at school.  Charly and Wanna wore our interpretation of Chinese national dress featuring mandarin collars and pig tails, while Ro-Ro donned a bucket hat and tee-shirt from Canada and professed his genuine love of pure maple syrup.  It was, admittedly, a bit of a scratch effort.  I expect the local diplomatic community will show us up with authentic outfits and impressive accessories.  I can't wait to hear about it. 
 
The school is also having an international children's lunch where students get to sample foods from around the world.  I expect my lot will hone in on the lamingtons and decline to sample anything remotely spicy, pale or odd looking.

Yesterday they experimented with a variety of craft activities depicting a foreign culture and came home with an interesting assortment of lanterns, paper rhinos and Venetian masks as well as an outstanding Egyptian collar made from beans and seeds which would go very well over my black polo sweater.  I took a photo of a  small collection I curated, for posterity, as these works will eventually, and possibly sneakily, find their way to the 'archives'.

Photo by me: {Pardon the socks}

Limerick by Rudyard Kipling

Search for the Obvious

The Search for the Obvious is about harnessing and celebrating the creativity of our community.  Truly creative people see things differently. Instead of seeing problems, they see obvious solutions. Look around you. What everyday objects or services have changed the world and make life better?

I've entered the ironing board despite the fact that it stands in my house as an object of maternal servitude.  However, I am reminded that things would be so much more tedious without it -- living as we do in the first world where pressed shirts matter.  I really appreciate crisp sheets, smooth table cloths and well-turned out school uniforms too.  Next up would be flushable toilets and child car seats -- designed for those of us living in an industrialised, mobile society.  I did want to register soap but some-one had beaten me to it. That, and penicillin would have had more meaningful global impact.  Check out the listings. 

The concept is supported by Acumen Fund, a a non-profit global venture fund that uses entrepreneurial approaches to solve the problems of global poverty.

Found via Swiss Miss.

Image by Amber Perrodin

So close, so far

A walk, scooter and bike ride in Commonwealth Park, Canberra, on Saturday.

This poem is by Taufiq Ismail (born 1937), a student writer and activist in 1966.

Kita adalah pemilik syah republik ini

Tidak ada pilihan lain. Kita harus
Berjalan terus
Kita adalah manusia bermata sayu, yang di tepi jalan
Mengacungkan tangan untuk oplet dan bus yang penuh
Kita adalah berpuluh juta yang bertahun hidup sengsara
Dipukul banjir, gunung api, kutuk dan hama
Dan bertanya-tanya diam inikah yang namanya merdeka
Kita yang tak punya kepentingan dengan seribu slogan
Dan seribu pengeras suara yang hampa suara
Tidak ada pilihan lain. Kita harus
Berjalan terus

The Republic is Ours

There is no other choice. We must
Go on.
We are the people with sad eyes, at the edge of the road
Waving at vans and crowded buses.
We are the tens of millions who live in misery
Beaten about by flood, volcano, curses and pestilence,
Who silently ask for freedom
But are ignored in a thousand slogans
And meaningless loud-speaker voices.
There is no other choice. We must
Go on.

Translated by Harry Aveling,'Secrets need words: Indonesian poetry 1966-1998', Ohio University Press, 2001.

With sorrow for the lives lost. Jakarta, July 2009.