Hello, Pietro
My father, like my mother, died in 2016. My father died nine months after my mother passed. Having already spoken to my mother, I thought it would also be valuable to speak with Pietro.
Hello, Teresa
My mother, Teresa, died in 2016 and I haven’t seen her or spoken to her since. Except for this rare discussion.
Do children ever know their parents?
Do children ever really know what their parents are like? Do they ever realise their parents have a life that’s broader and more expansive than just parenting? Do they ever…
Australia, here cometh my father
Ameriga was any place that, at the time, was richer than Sicily. In the late 1950s, that would be quite a long list. So Australia was Ameriga. A land where gold flowed in the streets, and all that was required was to stoop down and pick it up.
My mother’s keepers
I can’t imagine the conversation between my grandmother and one of her daughters-in-law. The subject is my mother, Teresa.
My father’s lollies
1. My Father was a great gardener. He could make vegetables sprout from the most unaccommodating soil. The aroma of fertiliser (just a nice name for chicken or horse shit)…
I should give them a call
Often, when I am walking to the bus stop, or out at the Supermarket, I reach for my mobile. “I should give my Mother a call and ask how she…
A nice place to be
Sydney Road Community School was an educational experiment that started in the 70s in the Melbourne Suburb of Brunswick. A Nice Place To Be was a documentary about the Goals,…
What would you say?
When both your parents pass away within the same year, it makes you think. You start to wonder what it’s all about; what it means to be a parent. You…
On this day
Somewhere in the world, a child was born; a father cried; a toddler took its first steps; a yapping dog bit the hand that had fed it; somebody made a…