That’s Living: Milestones, Changes and Adventures
Belonging to a family never ceases to surprise and inspire me. There is constant change and joy and sometimes we just need to rest, like Emmi (our Cavvie).
Another Milestone
For a long time, my first readers were my children. When they were quite young, they were happy just to hear the story, and reading it out loud was a good way for me to spot problems. Then as they grew, they’d offer first reader feedback, like ‘that doesn’t make sense’ or ‘what happened to that character – they’ve changed’. One by one, they grew too old, they said, to want to read my stories, until it was only the youngest who read them. He was very good with feedback, with a wonderful nose for inconsistencies.
But I recall, like it were yesterday, he signalled the end. He read the two stories I asked him to. Provided good feedback too. But that’s the end, he said. He’s no longer in touch with my target audience, he said (although he used different words). I’m sad in a way, but also quite impressed with his ability to verbalise that change. And he let me down gently.
Don’t believe everything the world says about teenage boys. I reckon they’re great
Changes
What a difference a year makes. There was a time, it feels like just last year, we had 25 12 year-olds here for a ‘not the graduation’ party. They were noisy, messy and full of high spirits. No, that’s not what’s changed. There are 8 of them here tonight for a movie night and they are as loud, messy and high-spirited as they were. But they’ve all hit adolescence. They’re taller, their voices deeper (well, okay that’s just the boys) and their skin is less clear. There’s also this other thing. A confidence that wasn’t universally there the year before. Perhaps it was to do with being at secondary school. Perhaps it was to do with hormones. I don’t know. But it was lovely to see. These child-adults who zing effortlessly and endlessly between the two states.
No wonder fantasy fiction is so hot with this age group, where main characters are their age and can do almost anything, with none of the constraints that the modern world seeks to impose.
The Simple Things
We went away one weekend with three other families, staying in shearing quarters on a Victorian Heritage noted property. The shearing quarters were of bluestone, built in a U shape around a central courtyard. 22 of us there were, in fairly basic accommodation. Immediately the tables and chairs were moved into the courtyard and that’s where they stayed for the weekend. Alfresco dining!
The children (some of whom are adults) were a bit underwhelmed by the facilities until the owner told us of a waterhole edging the property. Never touched the bottom, she said. Cliff on one side, but accessible from our side. Cliff was right, a sheer drop of almost 10 m. Too high to jump from, right? Wrong.
The First to Jump
First one, then most of the children and some of the adults succumbed to the call of the heights. Others looked on and hoped that no one would earn the dubious honour of finding the bottom of the waterhole for the first time. Fortunately no one did. Some of us, myself included, were happy enough to jump from the lowest possible ledge. Adventure enough to observe.
As we grow, I grow
Our family and three other families have been meeting annually as a group since 1986. Sometimes we see some of the others during the year, but the reunion is when we are all in the one place at the same time. Across the years we’ve outgrown hotel/motel type accommodation and moved to school camps and shearers quarters. We’ve stayed in heritage buildings and old nissan huts.
Recording our Adventures
A few years ago I recorded some details of our weekends, but lost the documents somewhere. Recently I’ve started again, cued by a spreadsheet prepared by one of the families. Fascinating when gathering the material what one remembers and another has absolutely no recall of. Collectively, we should be able to flesh out the facts with anecdotes.
This new document, wholly in sketchy note form now goes to each reunion for additions and corrections. I keep looking at it, itching to turn it into something else. It has the makings of a novel I reckon, but would also be wonderful just as a record (including photos) of our weekends, tracking births, deaths and marriages. Yes we’ve had them all.
I love being a children’s writer and don’t see writing for children as ‘practice’ for writing for adults. But that doesn’t mean I can’t do both.
And the Years Slip into History
I think this picture of Emmie (our Cavvie) says it all really. The only thing to do on Christmas afternoon is to find a place in the shade and take time out. Follow that up with a swim in the ocean on a hot New Year’s Eve and let the old year ease into the history books.
