Sharing Memories - Mail deliveries in the Outback

My sister waiting for the mailman

For many, the daily visit from the postman, or trip to the post office to collect mail from the post box is of no significance.  However, for those who live in isolated area, the weekly (or sometimes less often) delivery of mail and supplies is an event of importance! For many this is the only link with the outside world for extended periods of time. Today I am Sharing my memories of our outback mailman.

I can still remember the excitement I used to feel, when we caught a glimpse of the cloud of dust advancing along the road to Nuntherungie Station (this could sometimes be seen for quite a few miles), that signaled the imminent arrival of the mail truck. Nuntherungie Station was between Broken Hill and White Cliffs and the mail truck would arrive at our homestead on Saturday mornings, dropping of mail and supplies on its way through to White Cliffs.

The first mailman that I can remember as a young girl was Mr Vincent, a short slightly rotund gentleman who was always dressed in overalls.  Every Friday he would load his truck with orders of bread, vegetables, fruit and other supplies, mail, newspapers and other supplies needed by the properties between Broken Hill and White Cliffs.  He would set out along the red dusty road, stopping at all the Stations along the way.

My sisters and I would await his arrival with great expectations, as he always had a small sweet treat for all the children along the way.  I remember relishing the "Cherry Ripes" that he would pass around when he arrived. As was the bush custom, my mother would brew a pot of tea and have a nice slice of sponge cake, or scones ready for Mr Vincent's morning tea. My mother would enjoy the chat over a cup of tea with our mail man.  Her life on a station was very isolated and it gave her a chance to catch up on news from Broken Hill, and the other properties along the road. 

Among the letters and newspapers there was our weekly subscription to comics for my sisters and I.  I would be on the edge of my seat waiting for the next installment of the school girl mysteries in "Girls Own" and my sisters would pour over their new copies of the "Jack and Jill" comic books.

Also included in our mail would be our next set of lessons from Blackfriar's Correspondence School. Our completed lessons from the previous week would be packaged up, ready for Mr Vincent to take back to Broken Hill, for posting to Blackfriar's head office in Sydney.

June 30 1950, Western Grazier

The truck arrival also meant we would have fresh bread for our sandwiches. The fresh bread that arrived from the Broken Hill Bakery would have to last the week.  So as you can imagine by the end of the week, toast was the best option.  Though I do remember my mother wrapping the loaves in a damp tea towel and heating it int he oven to freshen it up a bit.

Then there was the time when the rain came, and this quite often mean that the mailman would have difficulty getting through to make his deliveries, as the creeks would flood and roads would be cut.  On these occasions, my father would sometimes have to drive through with the tractor and pull the mail truck through a flooded creek or two (or three!).  Heavy downpours would mean that the mail sometimes didn't get through for a couple of days. 

Our outback mailman and his deliveries were very different to the mail delivery experienced by those living in town.  He was more than the person who brought letters and parcels.  His delivery of mail and supplies was also accompanied by news from the outside, a lolly shop experience for the kids and that little chat over a cup of tea for the isolated families along the dusty road between Broken Hill and White Cliffs.

Mr Vincent and his son, with their mail trucks at Nuntherungie Station

Sentimental Sunday - Grandparents Day

Today's post is inspired by an article that I saw on this morning's news which advised that today was Grandparents Day. "Everyone has fond memories of being at their Nan and Pop's place its where you go to get the kind of love that only a grandparent can give.  This year Grandparents Day celebrates our memories of being at home with out grandparents.

My grandparents lived in very different environments.  My maternal Grandparents, Edna and Roy Herbert lived in the outback mining town of Broken Hill, and my Nanna, Christina Carriage and Pop , Lionel Carriage (step grandfather) lived in the small coastal town of Milton.

Edna Palin and Roy Herbert - on their Wedding Day in Broken Hill, NSW

Herbert Home, 58 McGowan Street, Broken Hill

Edna and Roy passed away when I was quite a young child so my memories of their home is quite dim.  However, I do have some memories of being there as a young child, when my mother stayed to help look after my grandfather, when my grandmother was in hospital.  I remember a very bare and dusty back yard with a corrugated tin fence  that backed onto a lane way.

Nanna and Pop Carriage

My paternal Grandparents were Christina Lee and Malcolm Michael Shepherd.  However, my Grandfather passed away after a logging accident in 1932 and my Christina remarried Lionel Carriage, so we grew up visiting Nanna and Pop Carriage in the small diary town of Milton on the South Coast of NSW. 

We regularly spent Christmas at their home, with all our cousins, Aunts and Uncles, playing in the big magnolia tree out the front of the house, putting on concerts on the front veranda, exploring the neighbouring fields and lane ways and spending lots of time on the nearby beaches.

Nanna and Pop's home in Milton

Amanuensis Monday - Sharing Memories - Disastrous Floods destroy Nuntherungie Station Homestead

Red earth of Nuntherungie- Homestead in Background

Last week I wrote about the importance of rain in the outback, and some of my childhood memories of the celebration and excitement when rain did finally eventuate in Sharing Memories - Here comes the Rain!.  In this story I mentioned Miss Tapp, the sister of the owner of Nuntherungie Station who was brought up on the station as a young child.  Miss Tapp, who lived in Broken Hill, had quite an influence on my knowledge of the bush as a young child.  

When she was visiting her brother (from Broken Hill) she would take me on walks in the bush, and dry creek beds, pointing out the different types of bushes, plants and animals. She showed me how to dig down into the dry creek bed, to find water, and pointed out some of the native plants that were edible. I can also clearly remember her showing me the different foot prints in the sand that were made by kangaroos, birds and goannas by drawing the shapes of their hoof prints in the sand.   

 

North West Corner of  NSW - showing location of Nuntherungie

The Homestead of Nuntherungie was built on a hill, looking down on the extensive system of creeks that flowed in between the homestead and the Woolshed.  However, this homestead was not the original building.  The first homestead build on Nuntherungie was erected closer to the creeks in the 1880's.  On one of the outings with Miss Tapp we visited the spot where the first homestead stood.  All that was remaining was a couple of brick chimneys, overgrown by bush. Miss Tapp described her childhood in a beautiful stone homestead. She then told me the homestead had been destroyed in a huge flood that the family had to leave and rebuild their home on higher ground. 

As we scrambled out way through the long grass and trees, Miss Tapp pointed out a small overgrown garden bed where a couple of bulbs were popping out of the ground.  She explained that this was all that remained of her mothers garden and every year in spring these bulbs would pop their heads out to remind her of times gone.

 

I had almost forgotten this story until recently troving through TROVE and came across this article, which gives a more substantial description of the events on the day that the Nuntherungie homestead was washed away in the huge floods of 1931.  It was one of those light bulb moments!  I remember being told about this! and as the story follows on nicely from my previous article about celebrating the arrival of rain in this district, it is fitting to share this story as it highlights  how the people of these isolated areas were at the mercy of the elements.

 

 

Barrier Miner (Broken Hill, NSW, - Tuesday 14 April 1931, page 3*

THE FLOOD AT NUNTHERUNGIE

WATER CAUSED COLLAPSE OF WALLS OF HOMESTEAD

About 6000 pounds damage.

The stately old homestead at Nuntherungie Station, 120 miles from Broken Hill on the White Cliffs road, is now a scene of desolation, and so severe is the damage wrought by the recent floods that the building will have to be demolished and a new homestead built.  About 6000 pounds damage was done.

Nuntherungie is one of the oldest homesteads in the district, and was once owned by the Kennedy family.  The homestead was erected 50 years ago.  Mr Nigel Kennedy, who died in Broken some years ago, being a son of the owner.  Then Mr B. A. Williamson of Abbotsford near Ivanhoe had the place, Mr E.P. Tapp, the present owner, taking over after he returned from service with the A.I.F. during the Great War.  Thus Mr Tapp, who took the place in 1920 or 1921 has during his life not only been exposed to the dangers of war, but has experienced some of the bitter reverses of civil life.

Nuntherungie homestead is built on the east side of a creek and was constructed of stone and pise and when it was built it was never thought that the district would experience such as a flood as was the case about a fortnight ago.  In years gone by the flood waters came down the creek proper but during the past few heavy rains the creek has overflowed some distance above the station and flowed down both sides but the rush of water had never previously reached the house.  When on previous occasions water threatened the station large banks were built to keep it back, and up till this flood the move was successful.  On this occasion the raging torrent was too much for the embankments and they were swept away.  The water had been banked so far back that when it was suddenly released it came like the rapids of a surging river.  Right through the homestead, outhouses and woolshed the water rushed carrying everything before it.  At the height of the flood the water in the homestead and some other houses was 4ft 6 inches deep.  Everything was soaked, the most valuable article, a piano, being saved from destruction by the foresight of some of the people there.  The mattresses from a couple of beds were placed on the dining room table and the piano was lifted on to this.  Thus it escaped the water.  While the piano rested majestically on the table, chairs, other tables and furniture floated about the buildings like miniature yachts.

The miracle was that no persons on the station were drowned.  After the flood had subsided silt was found on the floors of the homestead inches deep.  The foundations of the house sank as a result of the rush of water and in some walls of the buildings cracks appeared from one inch to almost a foot wide.  Other walls collapsed, that is interior walls and two of the walls near the front of the house.  There were nine rooms in the building and all that supports the roof now are a few walls and the door and window frames.  It is estimated that between 5000 pounds and 6000 pounds damage was done to the house, contents and outbuildings on the property.

In the outbuildings a two-roomed structure over a cellar has a tilt because of the foundations having subsided.  Several of the buildings have feet of silt in them.

The flood was the largest in the memory of white men in the district.  One man has been on the station for 35 years and he says that he has never seen such a flood before.  The exact rainfall on the station is not known.  About five inches of rain was registered and then the rain gauge was useless.

It is believed that the extra-large flood was caused by heavy falls at Wertago, where seven inches of rain was registered.  This is between Nuntherungie and Gnalta, and all this water came down the Nuntherungie Creek, later finding its way to Bancannia Lake, about 50 miles away.  Following the water came floods from the Kayrunnera area.

Mr Edward Tapp**

There are five in the Tapp family and all were at home.  Fortunately shearing was in progress and the shearers were able to give Mr Tapp valuable help in cleaning up a lot of the debris.  The shearing of Nuntherungie sheep had finished, but Wertago sheep were being attended to and of course since the flood and the damage the shearing has had to be postponed for the time.

The water came through the shearing shed feet deep, but did not cause the building to collapse.  The silt damaged the interior of the building and much repair work will have to be carried out.  Forty bales of wool were saturated, but the shearers as soon as the rain eased off opened these and spread the wool out to dry.  It is still marketable, although it will be slightly discoloured.  The shearers stood by Mr Tapp to a man and although they were told they could not be paid they never faltered in their cleaning up of the debris and stayed at the station as long as they could.  They worked like men on contract and Constable Smith, who was held up by the floods and reached Nuntherungie gave help till he was able to push on to his station at White Cliffs.  At times it was feared that there would be a shortage of food, but this was rationed and the determination of neighbours at Kayrunnera and Wertago saved the position, Light vehicles were taken out over the flooded areas and provisions were carried over the flooded creek.  Constable Smith left Nuntherungie on Easter Monday and the shearers who had put through 6000 sheep went on to White Cliffs, being held up there owing to the roads to Tonga, where they had to start shearing, being boggy.

According to a resident who was through Nuntherungie during the weekend, the roads between here and Gnalta are passable, but for a man to take the rest of the road to Nuntherungie he must be a careful driver and have a light car.  All the creeks between Gnalta and Nuntherungie are silted up, there being piles of debris and silt 7 ft high in some creeks.  The creek known as 10 mile, some distance from Nuntherungie, had a wire netting crossing, but this has been carried away, and a pile of silt has taken its place.  As far as can be ascertained no sheep were drowned, but a muster cannot be made on account of the conditions of the country.  Some may have been carried away in the torrent, and if not caught in trees washed into Bancannia Lake.  To add to the discomfort of the Nuntherungie people, telephone communication was cut off, the lines being washed away.  Communication has now been restored through Wonnaminta, but the direct line to White Cliffs is still out of order.

Travellers say that much fending on all the stations in the flood area was washed away, and the banks of tanks suffered extensively.  Most of the surface water from the floods has gone, but there is still a little about the clay pans.

Station people in the Nuntherungie area say they will long remember the disastrous flood, and there is much sympathy in the district for Mr Tapp and family, for their loss is severe and the disaster coming at a time when the industry is just recovering makes the blow suffered doubly heavy.

____________

* 1931 'THE FLOOD AT NUNTHERUNGIE.', Barrier Miner(Broken Hill, NSW : 1888 - 1954), 14 April, p. 3, viewed 7 July, 2014, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article46604249

 **Obituaries Australia, http://oa.anu.edu.au/obituary/tapp-edward-peter-958, viewed on 1 July 2014.

Thankful Thursday - Sharing Memories - Here comes the rain!!!

Sheep lined up at water trough 

Last night as I browsed through some of my father’s old slides I reflected on the importance of rain and the impact it had on our lives when we lived on Nuntherungie Station (between Broken Hill and White Cliffs)  as small children.  The average rain fall for this area, in north western NSW, is around 235 mm (9 inches) annually!! Not a lot of rain when you consider the average annual rainfall for Sydney is 1,213 mm (47.59 inches). 

So as you can imagine when the rains did come it was a time for celebration.  I  remember my father turning on the two-way radio the morning after there had been a big storm, everyone from the district calling and reporting how many inches of rain they had, that their dams were full, or that there had been flood waters through their sheds! It was like flock of galahs squawking at a grain spill on the side of the road.  The whole district would be tuned in, hopes refreshed for a better year now that there was water in the dam.

Generally the creeks, line with shaggy old gums were dry except for a few waterholes.  However, when the rain came they would flood. Brown bubbling water would rush down the sandy creek beds, filling all the water holes and flowing into the large dams that were an essential life force for the stock and people living on the property.  Each property, would have a system of huge water dams excavated by earth moving plants, these dams would provide water to the homesteads and would be pumped to the water troughs to provide water to all the stock on the property. In times of drought the level of these damps would be watched closely, often in despair.  The down side of these rain falls would be that they often came on one big rush, washing away fences and cutting through roads and blocking supplies to isolated areas.

Enjoying the novelty of water in the creek

Following a heavy downfall of rain, one of my father’s first tasks was to check on the livestock (mainly sheep) and mend any of the fences that had been washed away. As I mentioned in a previous blog, "Days out with Dad",  I loved to accompany him on these trips, there was nothing like being in a jeep, and having mud and water (instead of dust) splash up on you as went through the water holes and creeks on the property.  The more mud the better it felt!  The flowing creeks and water holes also meant it was time for the children to have some water play!! Something that we didn’t have the opportunity do very often.

One of my favourite memories was of Miss Tapp (the sister of the owner of the property) coming down to our house,  gathering my sisters and myself up to go exploring after the rain. We would head off, bare feet and with our dresses tucked into our bloomers (Yep!! ) to the creek to play in the mud and water.  On one particular time, our mother had just finished making us new white cotton bloomers, and was very dismayed when we returned all muddy brown and dripping in boomers that would for ever remain a light shade of reddy brown.

Water Play in the claypan water hole 

Another paddling adventure was after my dad returned home from one of his post rain tours of the property, he reported that he had found a nice water hole on one of the claypans for the “kids” to play in.  It was decided we should go for family picnic. Lunch packed, we all climbed into the jeep in our swimmers, and headed to the spot where Dad had found the water hole the day before.

However, when we arrived the water had evaporated or drained away, and Dad’s water hole had been reduced to a sheet of water , which was about 2 inches deep!  Not to despair, in we hopped, and splashed and slid around on the muddy clay while Mum organise our lunch.

Of course there are also the stories of isolation and being cut off from supplies, loss of stock and damaged fences and buildings, however, the assurance that the dams were full and there would be water for a few more months far outweighed  the downside!

Those Places Thursday - Sharing Memories - Childhood Christmas in the Outback of NSW

Our Aussie Christmas Tree

Recently I received an email from a friend in England in which she commented. "I  guess you are going to have one of those funny Australian Christmases”.  This made me smile, as Australians love to celebrate Christmas.  It is one of the most important family events of the year and our traditions are a carry-over from our ancestry.  

Quite often  families embrace the customs of their grandparents with the traditional meal of roast meats, baked vegetables, gravy and of course the Christmas pudding with steaming hot custard. We do however give the meal an Australian flavour by including lots of seafood, salads, tropical fruits such as mangoes, lychee's and of course a bowl of cherries.  Christmas is the traditional start to our cherry season and is often equated as the “Christmas fruit”.  There is nothing better than  seeing the littlies  with big red stains around their mouths from munching on the cherries in the Christmas fruit bowl!

However, mainly as a result of our climate,  an Australian Christmas is quite different to that experienced by my friend in England, so I thought I would share as part of my Sharing Memories Posts a couple of Christmas stories from my childhood.

As mentioned in previous blogs, my early childhood was spent in the far west of New South Wales, where we lived on the sheep station, Nuntherungie. As with most families, Christmas meant time spend sharing food, drink and adventures with our extended family. This time with family often meant a lot of travel, as my father’s family lived on the South Coast of New South Wales, over 800 miles (about 1,200  kms) away. My mother’s family were much closer, only 120 miles (190 kms) away in Broken Hill.

When I was quite young my father’s family, decided they would make the venture from the seaside village of Milton on the South Coast of NSW to Nuntherungie to celebrate Christmas in our home.  Unfortunately, the hot weather came early that year, with temperatures reaching the high 30’s.  Quite a shock to all the family members who were used to living in the lush coastal region, close to the beach!

House and  with Sleep- out (RH corner)

Our home had glass louvered windows all the way around to allow as much breeze through the house as possible and  away from the main house was a” sleep out” which my parents would sleep in in the summer months.  This was a separate room built away from the house with windows all the way around to help keep the room cooler in the summer.  However, not everyone could fit into the sleep-out, so all and sundry elected to sleep outdoors under the stars, in the hope of catching the smallest of breeze.  The large square of buffalo grass, that made up our “lawn” was covered in a conglomeration of pillows, mattresses, sheets and sleeping bodies. 

On one corner of the lawn was our version of a Christmas tree.  There are no neat symmetrical pine trees to be found in the outback, so our Christmas tree consisted of a branch of a dead gum tree, sawn off and painted with silver paint and then decorated with home-made streamers and balloons.  Yes, a different Christmas tree!! However, Santa always managed to find our tree, and leave a collection of large lumpy parcels wrapped in bright Christmas paper.

Christmas Day soon arrived, and the sleepy visitors stirred, cups of sweet black tea were passed around as everyone stretched and yawned, finding a spot on the grass amongst the scattered bed clothing from the previous night.  The children, pushing for a spot closest to the tree, waiting for my Dad, as elected Santa’s helper, to pick up each parcel from under out tree, read the tag and passed on to the excited recipients.

Ohhs! And Aah!s came from all corners of the grass, as everyone opened their parcels, squeals of delight from the children at new toys, and sweets, and the tangled mess of bedding was now joined by discarded Christmas paper and ribbon.  What a Christmas morning, and I love the slides that my father took of this day, about fifty five years ago.

The mess cleaned up, the children acquainted themselves with their new toys, while the adults moved into the kitchen to being the preparation for the big family Christmas meal.

Wordless Wednesday - Thelma Linda Vida Palin



Thelma Palin (in solders uniform) and friend

 In keeping with the ANZAC celebrations of this week, here is a picture of my great Aunt Thelma Palin and a friend. Thelma was born in Solomon Town, South Australia on the 11 August 1900, and her parents were Charles Palin and Eliza Golding.  Thelma would have been about 15-16 years of age and living in Broken Hill, NSW, Australia.  The inscription at the bottom of the picture shows that the picture was taken in a Studio in Broken Hill.  I wonder whose uniform she has borrowed for the photo?

Wordless Wednesday - Sharing Memories - School of the Air

Recently, I was looking through some more of my father's old slides and found two photos that bring to life the story I wrote early this year, Sharing Memories - Early School Days in the Bush - School of the Air. 

The first picture is of all the children lined up in front of the school bus in their school sports uniform., just before they all climbed on the bus and headed off for the Annual School of the Air Picnic.  

The second picture is of all the parents and children socialising outside the hall at the Annual School of the Air Christmas Party.  I love all the ladies dressed up in their best with their hats.  These two events were the highlights of the year for the parents and students of School of the Air, many would travel between 200-100 kms to attend these events.  

School of the Air, Broken Hill - Children line up ready to go to Annual School Picnic, about 1959

School of the Air Christmas Party - Broken Hill circa 1960

Wordless Wednesday - Charles Henry Palin 1871-1957

Charles Henry Palin

Running with the theme of Wordless Wednesday I have posted a picture to complement my post  on Family History through the Alphabet Challenge - F is for Freemasonry.  This is a photo of my great grandfather Charles Palin in his the regalia that he wore as a member of the Manchester Unity Order of Oddfellows, in Broken Hill, New South Wales. The Manchester Unity Order of Oddfellows, was fraternity with similar background and connections to the Freemasons Lodge.

Sharing Memories - Early School Days in the Bush - School of the Air

As promised it is time to start fulfilling one of my new year resolutions, which was to join Olive Tree Genealogy’s Blog’s idea of Sharing Memories.  All family tree researchers wish our ancestors had put more down on paper or had passed on more of their family records and photos.  With this in mind I plan over the next twelve months (there has to be a starting point) to record some of my memories.  Maybe someone will be interested in years to come.

I don’t know that I will be able to be as diligent as Olive Tree Genealogy with a post each week, however I will endeavour to post as many stories as I can.  Here is my first:

Early School Days in the Bush – School of the Air

In the early 1950’s my father took up the position of “overseer” on a station in the far western corner of NSW, Australia.  Nuntherungie Station, a property of 175,000 acres was about 120 miles from Broken Hill and about 45 miles from the small opal mining town of White Cliffs.  The Wool Industry was Australia’s main industry at this time and Nuntherungie’s main produce was the fine merino wool from its flock of sheep.

I was the eldest child so when I turned 5 it was time for my parents to look at the options for my schooling.  Actually, considering the distances to the nearest school there weren’t many options.  I was enrolled into Blackfriars Correspondence School and School of the Air.  Blackfriars was based in Sydney and each week I would receive brown A4 envelope with my lessons for the week.  With the assistance of my Mum, I would work my way through the lessons and send them back the following week (on the weekly mail truck), for marking. 



Mrs Gibbs and children at School of the Air



School of the Air was in addition to the correspondence lessons and provided me with interaction with other isolated students and our teachers who were based in Broken Hill.  I can remember my excitement when the small two way radio arrived and was set up in our family room.  Each day, at 9.00am and at 2.00pm School of the Air Broken Hill would be on line.  Children from miles around would sit up in front of the Radio and wait for the morning broadcast and the teachers Good morning everyone, then there would be a clamour of children calling in with their call signs and a good morning to everyone.  My call sign was 8NEK Nuntherungie, and I would join the throng of calls with “ 8NEK Nuntherungie, Good Morning Miss Gibbs”.  The morning program would include singing “God Save our Gracious Queen” and the School of the Air song “Parted but United”, followed by news.  It would be very exciting if you were called on to tell everyone listening your news for the day.  The time slots would be taken up with lessons, reading, stories, music, all those wonderful interactive activities that children in “normal” schools took for granted.



Mrs Phyliss Gibbs

 When we were visiting Broken Hill we were able to to to the school and sit in on the lessons as they were broadcast out to all the children in the outback.  I loved the opportunity to visit the school, and to be able to borrow books from their library and talk to the teachers in person.  At the time I was a student, the principle was Mrs Gibbs, whose name was synonymous with the development of Distance Education in Broken Hill.

One of my most vivid memories of school of the air was playing the part of a chicken in a play.  All the children selected to be in the play were sent copies of the script and we had to practice reading and learning the lines before the big day when we  read our parts in the play over the two radio.  My mother put together my costume of a cardboard beak, a bonnet with a red comb stitched to the top and a hessian bag with holes cut in the side so that when I put it on the back corner stuck out like a hens tail.  Such an innovative mother!!  The big day arrived and I sat all dressed up in my costume, with my script, in front of the two way radio!!  The teacher announced the play and then asked each member of the caste to describe their costume to everyone.  Then we  waited excitedly for the spot in the script where we had to push the button on our microphone and read our lines.

My family dressed ready for the School of the Air Picnic Day

The staff of School of the Air organised two annual events in Broken Hill where all the children and their families would gather in Broken Hill.  The first was the annual School Picnic which was held mid-year, all the students would go to the school on the day before and be issued with our sports uniform (dark blue jacket, white shorts and white shirts with the big blue logo of School of the Air, on the pocket).  Then the next day, we would assemble in front of the school in our white uniforms, and newly whitened sandshoes ready to catch the buses out to the school picnic.  Our parents and younger family members would follow in the cars to join in the fun.  The day was full of running races, sack and egg and spoon races for all the children, followed by a big picnic lunch.  In the afternoons there were more novelty races and the parents were invited to join in.  Then the highlight of the day for all the children was the “Lolly man”.  One of the parents would don a plastic raincoat which had bags of lollies stapled to it.  He would then run around the oval with all the children running after him, trying to pull off the bags of lollies.  Just thinking about it makes me smile!

The second event for the year was the Christmas Party, which was held in the park next to the School of the Air building in Broken Hill.  Again, families would travel miles into Broken Hill to attend.  The party would start mid-afternoon and everyone  dressed in their best party clothes, would join in the games, receive a present from Santa Clause  and eat lots of party food. For children (and parents as well) who didn’t have the opportunity to socialise and mix with others because of their isolated environments these occasions were very important social events. I can remember myself and my three sisters being bundled along to the shoe shop in Broken Hill so that our parents could purchase some “good” shoes for the occasion.  (As we had always grown out of the shoes we had worn the previous year).

Our family moved away from this district when I was about 10 years old.  One of the driving forces for this move was for our family to be in a place where there were better education opportunities for myself and my sisters.  The burden on my mother of overseeing the education of four girls was considerable, and my parents thought was time that we were exposed to “main stream” education. 

In reflection I would not have changed those few years of my early education.  I believe that School of the Air and Blackfriars provided me with some skills that the mainstream education system would not have, i.e. the ability to be open to different forms of education, to be able to work independently and of course all those wonderful memories.  

Wordless Wednesday: Christina Carriage and Hazel Herbert

My Grandmothers: Hazel Herbert (nee Palin) and Christina Carriage (nee Lee)

In my blog The Other Half of My Family Tree - stories of my female ancestors, a project in which I aim to tell stories of the women in my family tree, I have so far written about both my grandmothers, Edna Hazel Palin and Christina Sterland Lee.  Last night while I was searching through an old album of my fathers for photos for the final chapter on the story on Edna Hazel Palin, I found the picture above.  It is a rare picture of both my Grandmothers, which must have been taken around the time my parents were married and Hazel and Roy Herbert (my mothers parents) came all the way from Broken Hill to Milton on the coast of NSW to visit my fathers mother, Christina and step father,  Lionel Carriage.  Such a great find!!! I had to share it on Wordless Wednesday.

Follow Friday - An accumulation of my weekly research

As I research my family tree and information for my blogs I find that each week I discover new and interesting resources. I save these links into my Delicious Account as described in by blog "Delicious and Genealogy - A Great Family Tree Research Tool" .   To follow on from this I though it would be a good idea to share my weekly discoveries with other family tree researchers by posting a weekly summary of the sites that I have stumbled upon over the past week.  So here goes!!  I hope you find some useful information or resources in my first of my weekly, "Follow Friday - An accumulation of my weekly research" posts. I would also like to encourage other researchers to share related sites that they have come across in their research.

The focus of my research this week has been on the life of Women in Broken Hill, are a number of sites that I have found both interesting and useful as I search for more background information on my maternal grandmother Edna Hazel Palin who was born in Broken Hill.

 

Unbroken Spirit : Women in Broken Hill :

http://www.womenaustralia.info/exhib/bh/bh-home.html

This site includes some great pages with a history of women, and stories of influential women and a wonderful collection of old photos. 

History of the Trades Hall Broken Hill 

http://www.brokenhilltradeshall.com/history.htm

Broken Hill City Library Archive Service

http://www.bhlibrary.org.au/archives.html

Broken Hill Cemetery

http://www.brokenhill.net.au/Cem.php

  

The Australian Women's History Forum

http://www.womenshistory.com.au/default.asp 

The Australian Women's Register

 http://www.womenaustralia.info/index.html

History of Broken Hill - ABC Series

http://www.abc.net.au/local/stories/2011/01/21/3118060.htm?site=brokenhill

Australian Women’s Archive Project



Women assaulting Strike Breakers in Broken Hill



One of the things that I enjoy most when researching my family tree, is that nearly every day I discover a new resource, blog or web page that leads me to discover whole new dimension in understanding our past and identity.    I have recently started another blog, "The Other Half of My Family Tree: stories of my female ancestors" in which I plan to write stories about the women in my family tree. 

 

Dust Storms in Broken Hill



As most genealogical researchers  know, due to a number of factors, it is harder to find information on our grandmothers and great aunts than it is to research our male ancestors.  Yesterday, I was searching the Internet for a story on my maternal grandmother Edna Palin, (1910-1957) when I came across a new web site. 

 I was looking up “women’s history, Broken Hill” and  came across the Web Page “Unbroken Spirit, Women in Broken Hill.  Imagine my delight! This site is dedicated to telling the story of the women from the mining city of Broken Hill, the city that I, my mother, my grandmother were born in.  The women of Broken Hill lived in one of the harshest environments imaginable.  They lived through dust storms, droughts, extreme temperatures and a volatile political environment that saw years of strikes and picket lines. Yet they managed to raise their families, support their husbands, establish health care, schools, and even theatre groups.    

Women's Memorial - Broken Hill

Along with a large collection of images from these times, the site provides a list of Women in Broken Hill.  This list includes the story and details of Dr Franziska Schlink (1910-1965)  who not only was  my mother and grandmother’s doctor, but was the doctor present at my birth at the Broken Hill Base Hospital.  Dr Schlink’s story is fascinating, and I must write a story on her at a later stage.

As I found my way around the “Unbroken Spirit, Women in Broken Hill” web page I discovered that it was linked to the Australian Women’s Archive Project.  How had I not come across this before??

 For anyone who is looking to research and gain a better understanding of the legacy and history of Australian Women this is a wonderful resource.  The purpose of this Project is to preserve The History of Australian Women as outlined by the site.

“Records about women provide the basis of all the work of the Australian Women's Archive Project. To ensure records are available in the future, AWAP promotes the keeping and care of personal records and encourages individuals and organisations to deposit records appropriately in available archives and libraries.”

I hope my new discovery is of help to other family tree researchers and perhaps you will consider contributing to the evergrowing resources of the Australian Women's Archive Project.