The year was 1965. I had escaped a dysfunctional family, eighteen months in the "Bundeswehr", and the predictability of a lean and miserable existence in the (c)old country, and I had instantly fallen in love with my new home Australia, my new friends at Barton House, my new colleagues at the ANZ Bank, my new favourite movie "They're a Weird Mob", and my new favourite pop group, The Seekers.
All this is almost sixty years ago - and what sixty years they've been! They were full of mistakes made and stupidities committed; they had their occasional shames and humiliations as well as those brief moments of accomplishments and happiness which I now call experience. They are my recompense for the youth and the health and the energy I have left behind as I bounced through life, spending more time on planning my next weekend than on how I might spend the rest of my life.
And yet, today, sixty years later, with the carnival almost over, I'm grateful for everything that happened, but especially for that deft little pen stroke by the interviewing officer on my "Auswanderungsantrag nach Australien mit Fahrtunterstützung" which crossed out the words "NOT RECOMMENDED / REFERRED" to leave standing the word "ACCEPT".
I leave the last words to The Seekers from their Farewell Tour in 2013/2014. They are far better than I am at expressing emotions.
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The water is wide, I can't cross o'er Nor do I have light wings to fly Build me a boat that can carry two And both shall row my love and I
A ship there is, and sails the sea
When love is young, and love is fine
The water is wide, I can't cross o'er |
