from cabaret stems a history lesson.

on friday night i saw emma dean at the old museum. her show, dr dream and the imaginary pop-cabaret, was divinely quirky. her imaginary friends were utterly fabulous: deliciously disturbed. a thoroughly enjoyable show.

supporting emma was the jane austen argument [hello most excellent name]. consider a collaboration between amanda palmer, antony [antony + the johnsons] and rufus wainwright [review here] and you have some delicious indie noir cabaret, described as, "raunchy, melancholy, bittersweet and just a little bit cracked, this striking duo weave twisted narratives of life, love and loss with a dash of black humour and a twist of seduction." [my own spiel would not do them justice.] tom preceded a great little number with a story of his grandfather and the silver suit that was to be handed down after his death. after discovering a note in the top pocket of the jacket, from his mother informing his grandfather of tom's birth, the ensemble was rightfully handed over. the song was rather amusing and there were many chuckles. and got me picking up a thought-thread i've been delving into for the past couple of months.

the thought-thread has its origins in another blog. friends, now living in canada, were forced to deliver their twins at 26 weeks, due to complications in utero. they have kept a blog since the boys' arrival, as a way to share the experience with family and friends. it is very raw and honest at times, and navigates through the happiness and struggles. there is, however, an amazing optimism underpinning the writing. and the boys' infant lives will be forever recorded in intimate details. in far more depth than their parents' lives. more notably, it is the lives of their grandparents and great grandparents that largely remain a mystery. there was no instant photography or computers or internet to immediately record and store. their history lies in memories and stories. handed down through the generations. sadly, we often forget to ask to hear stories. then it is too late.

so i set out to discover a little more about my paternal grandparents. i rang my grandmother about a month ago and had a little chat. then friday's performance prompted me to again call my grandparents yesterday and ask about additonal things i didn't know details of; in particular, their roles in the war. my grandfather was most obliging to fill me in.

like all good tasmanian connections, it turns out my grandparents had known of each other prior to forming their [now 62 year] partnership. their fathers had both served in the great war, and attended subsequent reunions together. so the families knew each other.

my grandmother's father had a very interesting life. in the depression of the 1890s, the bank of van diemens land went bankrupt. most men forged a living by abandoning the towns and heading to the mines. barpie [as my great grandfather was known - a name that has been passed down the family] oversaw the construction of the abt railway, which connected queenstown and strahan [quite an extraordinary journey through largely impenetrable temperate rainforest, deep in the south west wilderness]. i have seen photographs that he took during his time along the rail line. magnificent. the king river is now dead, poisoned from iron ore tailings, so it was interesting to see images of healthy, vegetated river banks.

barpie enlisted in the army and was sent to south africa to fight in the second anglo-boer war. when the war finished in 1902, he stayed on and farmed for a decade in the klip river district, north west of durban, in kwazulu natal. i was first made aware of this just before my own trip to volunteer in johannesburg's townships in 2007. he returned to australia on the eve of the great war, and was serving once again within months of arriving home. i am uncertain where he was deployed.

and so the story of my grandparents begins. it wasn't until after world war II that they met properly and fell in love. both had served in the war.

prior to world war II, barpie [take two] was an avid bushwalker [and still is today]. everything i know about tasmania's flora and birds i have learned on our walks together, over the years. during his teenage years, he would disappear for days at a time, thoroughly exploring the hills and mountains of the south east - he knows mt field and mt wellington like the back of his hand.

[barpie exploring as a teenager]

[barpie still exploring in his 80s]

he helped build stone shelters [some of which still stand] and after the war, he constructed a beautiful little timber hut in 1946 on eagle tarn in mount field national park, with friends. the formation of clubs and groups was very important in the years after the war. the hut is still in the same families, and contains some of my favourite memories.

[the hut at eagle tarn shortly after completion]

during the war, he was in the parachute battalion, and spent much of his time in north queensland, particularly mareeba, on the atherton tablelands. he was transferred to singapore for six months after the war, before finally returning home to tasmania.

my grandmother [who had enlisted in the women's army as an encoder - though we shall never know exactly what her role entailed] was also up in the tablelands at one stage, but moved around, and spent time in the darling downs and brisbane [indooroopilly]. it's interesting learning about this now that i am based up here - there seems to be more significance in this new history knowledge. prior to enlisting, my grandmother had attended university for a semester, studying french and zoology. this was quite a revelation when i first found out, given that is was unusual for females to engage in such things. i was a very proud grand daughter.

i intend to illicit more stories from my family when i head home for christmas. old photos have always captivated me, and i have asked my grandmother to show me photos of her father's time in south africa. it is a country that i have long been seduced by.

i don't want to end up learning about my remaining grandparents after their death. their lives have been far too interesting and contain much meaning that ought not be lost. although we were not as close to our maternal grandparents, i wish i had taken the time to question them, also. most of what i know i learned during the days following their deaths, at the funerals and from the odd anecdote that pops up. my mum's father was quite an incredible man.

our lives today might have an immediacy of recording and far-reaching accessibility, but memories and stories that are handed down can never be taken from us.