"The Wars" (WW I & WW 2)

Every time there is conflict in the world, I am always scared of another 'World War'. At times this fright has changed my life. As recent as the Iraq 'war' - I changed countries to be nearer to my son, in case he was forced to go into combat.

The second world war was only just over by a few years when I was born. I lived in a house with 4 adults - parents and grandparents. My parents were 'old' by most standards, and a family that I was adopted into. Mum was 36 and Dad was 40 - my grandparents were in their 70s - having been born in the 1870s, I believe. More on that later.

War 'heroes' were held in high esteem. My mother would frown and 'let me know her displeasure' if I dated a guy whose father had not 'served', even if they had a legitimate reason.

We had weapons, souvenirs, letters, uniforms, medals, books and photos in the house - and in most of those of my family and friends. And there were stories.

One uncle had a 'tic' - an involuntary face movement - I was told it was from his time in a Japanese prison camp. I was also told of the skeleton frame he had when finally returned home.

My father was blown up in an ammunition truck in the middle east (but survived), and supposedly 'caught' TB in the snow in Syria. He talked of nightlife in Cairo, Egypt - the bars were full of seedy 'acts' for troops.

Upon the death of my grandfather (1962) we had to call in police to remove live grenades and bullets from our linen closet.

One souvenir was a Japanese carved sword (ivory?). I was told it was for committing suicide. I could not imagine it being used as such, especially as it was so intricately carved. I gave it to a boyfriend when I was about 18. I later will swear I saw it (or one identical) in an antique market in the city, with a price tag around $1,000.

I was bought up to save everything. All string was kept and wound onto a ball. Groceries were kept so that whatever was used, was replaced. The staples (sugar, flour, etc.) were usually bought in bulk. I was told - keep this, if there is another war, you'll need all this...

All my closest family had died by 2001, so I was left with a lot of mementos and so forth. One of the more unusual things was a shell dressing of Uncle Wally's - used in Darwin. Distributed by Johnson & Johnson. I sold it on eBay to a doctor/medical person in Darwin. Exactly like the one shown above. Unused. Image borrowed as a reference photo from the internet. If you'd like it removed, please let me know.

"It's snowing down south."

This was a commonly hear phrase when growing up. Underwear was hidden - never seen. I used to sew holders at shoulder seams to keep errant bra straps in place. Though it seems years since I ever heard the saying - once SO common place - hey! it's snowing down south! - this meant you slip/petticoat was showing below your hem. Unforgivable! Slips/petticoats were usually always white, hence the 'snow'. If you had a black slip, if it showed it seemed noone said anything to you as it was considered a bit risque, and to let it show was 'advertising'.

My uncle was an iceman.

My uncle was an iceman. In the outside laundry there was an old ice chest, with wood so cracked with age, that to tough it was to promptly gain a splinter, followed by tears. Running to my grandmother for comfort and being fussed over, until a needle was scalded, and the offending splinter extracted, and a kiss given, to 'make it all better'.

Summer was best. To hear the side gate open. Not many used it, so it was associated with my uncle. He would be there, such a big man, I would look up, and up, and up at him. But there, on one side would be this huge lump of glistening ice, held firmly in an iron clamp, rusted with age. The ice had magic, like a giant crystal, so clear and sparkling.

In our sweltering heat of a century plus, I would beg for some ice.

As the ice was intended for the cooler, every piece was precious. Finally permission was given. I would race into my bedroom, tugging open my 'hankie' drawer. Only a freshly ironed cotton handkerchief would do! Running outside to see my uncle chipping off a corner of the huge ice block. I'd shake out the handkerchief from its folds and carefully place the ice inside, gathering the corners up over the treasured chunk. Then, grasping the corners, and with the fabric uppermost, I would suck on the icy treat.
It was long ago, but the childhood sensations remain.

1954?

Image is 'borrowed' as a reference photo from the internet. The ice chunk was much bigger - carried down by his side. He didn't wear a uniform. If any objections to the photo use. Please contact. Thanks.