young life was in an orphanage in northern Italy. The orphanage was in a beautiful valley but Georgio’s life was far from beautiful. His mother had left him there when he was four years old, promising to come back for him. Every day when he woke up he would think “Is today the day when mother will come back for me?” but she never did. He was told that his mother lived in Rome which was a long way away. The orphanage was poor and the children were often hungry and cold. They were short of staff and what staff there was were far too busy to be bothered with the needs of individual children. Georgio felt very alone and frightened and the only thing that gave him comfort was that eventually his mother would come back for him.
When Georgio turned twelve years of age he was sent out to a farm where he was to live and work. This happened to all the children in the orphanage when they reached the working age. Life on the farm for Georgio was brutal as all the farmer was concerned about was to get as much work out of this scrawny child as he could. After all he was feeding him and giving him a place to sleep. Georgio often cried himself to sleep at night after a hard day’s work, from exhaustion and loneliness. His sleeping quarters didn’t give him much comfort as his bedding was a pallet of straw in the loft above the stables with only just sacks to cover him and keep out the cold.
As time went on he lost hope that his mother would ever come for him but he never lost his memory of her and his longing to be with her. Because of the long cold nights he often lay awake thinking of a better life and wouldn’t it be wonderful if his mother was in that life. With the cold still air at night in the valley he could hear the distant train as it trundled its way to somewhere and it somehow gave him comfort that there was another life out there if only he could be part of it.
The work on the farm seemed endless as there were no breaks for him, no weekends just every day the same. The food the farmer fed him wasn’t substantial or nearly enough for the amount of work he had to do and he was a growing child. He worked out that the only person who was going to look after him was himself which he did to the best of his ability. He managed to steal eggs from the hen house and fruit from the orchard which he stored away in the loft to be eaten at night when there was no one around.
He now had two things that gave him comfort, the food that he had stolen, and he had pleasure consuming it while he listened to the sound of the distant train which seemed to be saying,” Come with me come with me”. By the time he was fourteen years of age he had grown into a strapping young man and was no longer willing to accept the life that had been dealt to him. One night after a particularly harrowing day he knew the time had come. He really didn’t have any possessions except a few baggy clothes so he simply walked away from the farm and went in search of the train he knew would come for him. As the sound of the distant train grew closer he hurried to the village where he knew it would stop.
Before he clambered into an empty cattle wagon he learned that the train was destined for Rome. He felt sure that once there he would be able to find his mother and they would have a great life together.
MY FATHER WAS IN THE NAVY.
I was always very proud of my father who was a captain of a large war ship. Not that I knew him very well as he was always out to sea. At school I would skite about him to the other children and all the great things he did.
So the other children had fathers that came to their sporting events and attended their birthday parties, but they all had mundane jobs like bank managers and store owners. Mine was much too important to attend such events and I revelled in his ability to be master of such an important ship.
I didn’t like to admit it but it was a little lonely for me and I would often be found down by the navel docks hoping to catch a glimpse of him but I never did. I thought surely he must come home on leave at some time so I could get to know him better. All I knew of him now was what my mother had told me. As she tucked me into bed at night she would tell me stories of his daring and how brave he was. I would urge her to tell me more and more, I couldn’t get enough of it. I conjured up such a vision of him looking more like a god than a man. Seven feet tall and with such a presence about him everyone would stand back in awe as he passed.
So I spent my childhood loving a man I really didn’t know but as I told myself you can’t have everything. After all the navy couldn’t do without him and that was more important than attending sporting events and birthday parties. Some of the children would question me about him and why he was never home. I didn’t have a real answer to this but his job was so important and he was the only one who could do it and couldn’t be spared for leave.
My mother tried to make up for his absence by attending all the important events in my life but it wasn’t quite the same. She even enrolled me as a navel cadet when I became old enough. She was a great pal to me as well as a great mum and I loved her dearly as she did me.
As I grew into manhood all I wanted to do was join the navy so I applied for a position as a seaman and this was granted. However it came with a request for my birth certificate. I thought this would be great as they would now know my father was a navel captain. I told them about him but they couldn’t find any record of his service. Further to my dismay, looking at my birth certificate it stated that my father was unknown.
I confronted my mother about this irregularity and she was devastated that I had to find out in this manner. Yes my father was in the navy, he was an ordinary seaman who had come in on an American warship. She had only known him for a few days before his ship left port and she never heard from him again. She had fallen in love with him in those few days and was devastated when he disappeared from her life. I was the result of that short union and rather than me live with that knowledge she produced a mythical father for me.
I accepted what was and loved my mother all the more for going to such an extent to protect me, and I felt sorry for the father that could have been.
FAMOUS LAST WORDS.
I was always quire adamant and frequently announced from a very young age that I would never live in a town or city. It wasn’t something I could ever imagine doing. I was born to be in the great outdoors.
Growing up on a very isolated mountain farm, it was a shock to my system when I was packed off to Sydney to become an apprentice carpenter aged fifteen. In my first job I lasted five months and then I was given my marching orders. I was then sent to a window manufacturer to be apprenticed there and after five months that also came to an end. All the time I was pining for the mountains and the great outdoors.
Back home on the farm I wasn’t very popular as I had failed. My next move was off to a stock and station agent to find a job in the country. This was for me as I was sent off to Coonamble as a station hand out in central western New South Wales on a sheep and cattle property. I was not quite sixteen but relished the idea of it all. I loved it as I was now out in the wide open spaces which supported my conviction that I never wanted to live in a town or city.
After seven years on the land at Coonamble and a six months stint in the national service I decided to explore the world. What a change that was for me wandering around Europe for a year and working in London at Harrods department store for two months. After that adventure I escaped back to my beloved open spaces in western New South Wales bringing with me my Irish girl who would become my lifelong partner.
Eventually settled on a three hundred acre farm of our own in beautiful Moonbi Ranges. This was contentment as I loved my life in the solitude of the mountains where there wasn’t another house in sight. No sound of traffic or other people’s dogs barking it was just so peaceful.
After thirty-seven years of this kind of life it all came to an end when I had a big accident off a horse and my wife had a heart attack. It wasn’t practical for us to live there anymore. As much as I hated it we were talked into moving to Cairns to be close to family. Our house there was on a seven-hundred square meter block and our neighbour’s house was only ten feet away from ours. It was a very crowded suburb and I hated it.
br /> After three and a half years we had enough of the city living and sold the house and moved to Pomona. A village, sure but the house we bought is on a reasonably large block and we look out on a vast forest across the road and a large park behind us with just one neighbour who we never see.
As we gaze out on the wide open spaces around us we can say to ourselves those famous last words and really imagine it to be true that we would never live in town.
THE CARE OF BARKING BUTTERFLIES.
I’ve never seen or heard a butterfly barking so I guess the title refers to tree bark that the butterflies might land on. Even this is a bit strange to me as mostly they land on bright flowers.
Then there is the Canadian butterflies who travel thousands of miles to Mexico to breed and when they reach their destination they cluster in a mass which completely covers the trees. This is a source of wonder to me because if I had flapped my tiny wings for all that way I wouldn’t be much good for any activities once I reached my destination.
It is unexplainable how they find their way in mass over so many miles but they have been doing it since time began. They would have to contend with strong winds and rain along the way as well as