Over Before You Know It
*
There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around
That the colt from old Regret had got away,
And had joined the wild bush horses -- he was worth a thousand pound,
So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.
All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far
Had mustered at the homestead overnight,
For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are,
And the stock-horse snuffs the battle with delight.
There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won the cup,
The old man with his hair as white as snow;
But few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up --
He would go wherever horse and man could go.
And Clancy of the Overflow came down to lend a hand,
No better horseman ever held the reins;
For never horse could throw him while the saddle-girths would stand,
He learnt to ride while droving on the plains.
And one was there, a stripling on a small and weedy beast,
He was something like a racehorse undersized,
With a touch of Timor pony -- three parts thoroughbred at least --
And such as are by mountain horsemen prized.
He was hard and tough and wiry -- just the sort that won't say die --
There was courage in his quick impatient tread;
And he bore the badge of gameness in his bright and fiery eye,
And the proud and lofty carriage of his head.
But still so slight and weedy, one would doubt his power to stay,
And the old man said, "That horse will never do
For a long and tiring gallop -- lad, you'd better stop away,
Those hills are far too rough for such as you."
So he waited sad and wistful -- only Clancy stood his friend --
"I think we ought to let him come," he said;
"I warrant he'll be with us when he's wanted at the end,
For both his horse and he are mountain bred."
"He hails from Snowy River, up by Kosciusko's side,
Where the hills are twice as steep and twice as rough,
Where a horse's hoofs strike firelight from the flint stones every stride,
The man that holds his own is good enough.
And the Snowy River riders on the mountains make their home,
Where the river runs those giant hills between;
I have seen full many horsemen since I first commenced to roam,
But nowhere yet such horsemen have I seen."
So he went -- they found the horses by the big mimosa clump --
They raced away towards the mountain's brow,
And the old man gave his orders, "Boys, go at them from the jump,
No use to try for fancy riding now.
And, Clancy, you must wheel them, try and wheel them to the right.
Ride boldly, lad, and never fear the spills,
For never yet was rider that could keep the mob in sight,
If once they gain the shelter of those hills."
Banjo Patterson. The Man From Snowy River. Late 1880s.
Cruelty, that's all it was, the constant pain that distorted his vision. The sick black spots of pain circling in the atmosphere, the nausea, the flashes of light, the closed rooms, the vomiting. Why him? Why was he picked out for rare forms of migraine that went on for months? Lopsided, pain down one side, he squinted in the sensitive light, he asked for help and received none, he endured and remained sick, he fought for air and had to hide from the too bright lights. Migraines had followed him all the days of his life. The only solution was escape. Aspirin did nothing.
I've burnt out all my receptors, he said, when offered paracetamol at work. His head growing fuzzy. The constant pain prematurely aging him. In sickness and in health. But there was no one to listen. Oh please be careful, he thought, as he watched his children embark off into the big world. Sammy is off to visit a friend in Newcastle. He's 17 now, he's capable of looking after himself, but we are shattered as they escape the fold, unfurl their wings. Will you be alright? Will God protect you?
He was constantly amazed how happy and well adjusted his kids were, considering all that had happened. But despite it all, the separation, the nightmares, the clairvoyant savages that waited just out of reach, beyond the village circle, they had grown and prospered. Soon, no doubt, to be grown and flown. Perhaps he had made the typical mistake of separated parents, of being friends with his children, even of relying on them for friendship and company. But they had been a cozy little band, us and them, them against the world, dinner in the evening, clinging together against the madness which was lapping against their door.
They jockeyed for attention, dad, dad, look at this, you wouldn't believe that, come and look at this video, see my assignment, you wouldn't believe what happened at school today. It all passed so quickly, that terrible cliché that turned out to be so true. Enjoy them while you can, they grow up very quickly. He watched other parents now, the children on their hips, the travelling caravans, the scenes in cafes, crying. He missed all that, when there wasn't any doubt about your function in life, wehn they needed you so totally, pulling at his trouser legs, constantly demanding.
These parts of life were over before anything could be heard, before the origins could be discussed. He straightened his back with sadness, and knew there had to be new resolve, new paths. Grown and flown, was the phrase, as he looked with astonishment at the gallumphing giants of teenagers that used to be his sweetest, most adorable, adoring children. They had been as cute as a button, the pair of them, little blonde bombs about as good looking as children can be made. "He's so beautiful," the teacher said of Sammy in Primary School. "He's so beautiful some days I just find myself staring at him."
If it had been a male teacher you would have started in disapproval. But he knew exactly what she meant. Those big grey green eyes, that blonde hair, that chubby handsome face, he really had been a gorgeous child. Perhaps it was all just nature's way of ensuring that you protected them, but these times, all those photographs of him with the pair of them, clinging to their dad, it was all gone. He had always wanted children, but had been 39 when the first one came along. Now it's almost over, grown and flown, and he struggled to think of life without them. Would he come to visit them in their new lives, their careers, their marriages? Would they visit him, wherever he was, in the deep scrub, roaming the world? There weren't any answers, but it's true what they say: life is short. It's over before you know it.
THE BIGGER STORY:
http://www.smh.com.au/news/whale-watch/humans-could-be-to-blame-for-stranded-calf/2008/08/21/1219262390467.html
A female humpback whale abandoning her three-week-old calf? Not likely.
Experts say a baby whale alone in Sydney's Pittwater was probably separated from its mother by force.
And humans could even be to blame.
The baby humpback, believed to be about two or three weeks old, was first spotted on Sunday, nuzzling up to a yacht in an apparent search for its mother.
Authorities have suggested that the calf, nicknamed Colin, may have a biological problem, which led its mother to abandon it.
Experts have disagreed, saying a humpback female is very unlikely to abandon her calf, and would nurture it if it was sick.
Wally Franklin, Hervey Bay-based marine biologist with research group the Oceania Project, says ships in the waters off Sydney could be to blame, because they can break up sonic communication lines between whales.
http://ap.google.com/article/ALeqM5gDNLWfQWKrQc48pITBUg9KT_6oVwD92MQK0G0
POTI, Georgia (AP) — Russian forces dug trenches and built fortifications in key areas of Georgia Thursday, but also rolled columns of tanks north toward home, picking and choosing how their nation would comply with the terms of a peace accord.
A top Russian general said it could be more than 10 days before the bulk of the troops return to Russia.
Although Russian President Dmitry Medvedev has promised that his forces would pull back as far as separatist Ossetia and a surrounding zone by Friday, Russian troops appeared to be in no hurry — even settling down in strategic spots. This raised concerns about whether Moscow was aiming for a lengthy occupation of its smaller, pro-Western neighbor.
An EU-sponsored cease-fire requires both Russian and Georgian forces to move back to positions held before fighting broke out Aug. 7 in Georgia's separatist republic of South Ossetia, which has close ties to Russia. The Russians are allowed to remain in zones around Georgia's borders with South Ossetia and another separatist region, Abkhazia.
The war in Georgia, a small country straining to escape Moscow's influence, has sent tensions between Moscow and the West to the highest levels since the 1991 breakup of the Soviet Union.
NATO, Russia's Cold War foe, said it had received a note from Moscow announcing that Russia is halting military cooperation with the trans-Atlantic alliance.
On Wednesday, U.S. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice and her Polish counterpart signed a deal to build an American missile defense base in Poland after a top Russian general warned last week that Poland was risking an attack, possibly a nuclear one, by developing the base.
http://www.news.com.au/heraldsun/story/0,21985,24220103-5000117,00.html
Steve Lewis
August 22, 2008 12:00am
AUSTRALIA is being short-changed by gutless political leaders who place rank populism ahead of constructive debate on sensible reform.
Kevin Rudd and Brendan Nelson are guilty of playing the politics of fear, the Prime Minister with his nonsensical "just say no" stance on nuclear power.
Labor is kidding if it believes nuclear has no place in a future energy framework.
Debate has been reignited after the Coalition's trade spokesman, Ian Macfarlane, earlier this week outlined a compelling case for nuclear energy.
He said our best hope of making a serious dent in greenhouse emissions is embracing nuclear as a clean source of base load energy, as the US and European powers have.
What a shame that some of Rudd's Cabinet colleagues, sensible folk like Resources Minister Martin Ferguson, don't have the ticker to endorse a rational (public) debate on nuclear power.
Many in the resources sector believe the promise of "clean coal" is about as likely as Brendan Nelson leading the Liberal Party to the next election.
There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around
That the colt from old Regret had got away,
And had joined the wild bush horses -- he was worth a thousand pound,
So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.
All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far
Had mustered at the homestead overnight,
For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are,
And the stock-horse snuffs the battle with delight.
There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won the cup,
The old man with his hair as white as snow;
But few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up --
He would go wherever horse and man could go.
And Clancy of the Overflow came down to lend a hand,
No better horseman ever held the reins;
For never horse could throw him while the saddle-girths would stand,
He learnt to ride while droving on the plains.
And one was there, a stripling on a small and weedy beast,
He was something like a racehorse undersized,
With a touch of Timor pony -- three parts thoroughbred at least --
And such as are by mountain horsemen prized.
He was hard and tough and wiry -- just the sort that won't say die --
There was courage in his quick impatient tread;
And he bore the badge of gameness in his bright and fiery eye,
And the proud and lofty carriage of his head.
But still so slight and weedy, one would doubt his power to stay,
And the old man said, "That horse will never do
For a long and tiring gallop -- lad, you'd better stop away,
Those hills are far too rough for such as you."
So he waited sad and wistful -- only Clancy stood his friend --
"I think we ought to let him come," he said;
"I warrant he'll be with us when he's wanted at the end,
For both his horse and he are mountain bred."
"He hails from Snowy River, up by Kosciusko's side,
Where the hills are twice as steep and twice as rough,
Where a horse's hoofs strike firelight from the flint stones every stride,
The man that holds his own is good enough.
And the Snowy River riders on the mountains make their home,
Where the river runs those giant hills between;
I have seen full many horsemen since I first commenced to roam,
But nowhere yet such horsemen have I seen."
So he went -- they found the horses by the big mimosa clump --
They raced away towards the mountain's brow,
And the old man gave his orders, "Boys, go at them from the jump,
No use to try for fancy riding now.
And, Clancy, you must wheel them, try and wheel them to the right.
Ride boldly, lad, and never fear the spills,
For never yet was rider that could keep the mob in sight,
If once they gain the shelter of those hills."
Banjo Patterson. The Man From Snowy River. Late 1880s.
Cruelty, that's all it was, the constant pain that distorted his vision. The sick black spots of pain circling in the atmosphere, the nausea, the flashes of light, the closed rooms, the vomiting. Why him? Why was he picked out for rare forms of migraine that went on for months? Lopsided, pain down one side, he squinted in the sensitive light, he asked for help and received none, he endured and remained sick, he fought for air and had to hide from the too bright lights. Migraines had followed him all the days of his life. The only solution was escape. Aspirin did nothing.
I've burnt out all my receptors, he said, when offered paracetamol at work. His head growing fuzzy. The constant pain prematurely aging him. In sickness and in health. But there was no one to listen. Oh please be careful, he thought, as he watched his children embark off into the big world. Sammy is off to visit a friend in Newcastle. He's 17 now, he's capable of looking after himself, but we are shattered as they escape the fold, unfurl their wings. Will you be alright? Will God protect you?
He was constantly amazed how happy and well adjusted his kids were, considering all that had happened. But despite it all, the separation, the nightmares, the clairvoyant savages that waited just out of reach, beyond the village circle, they had grown and prospered. Soon, no doubt, to be grown and flown. Perhaps he had made the typical mistake of separated parents, of being friends with his children, even of relying on them for friendship and company. But they had been a cozy little band, us and them, them against the world, dinner in the evening, clinging together against the madness which was lapping against their door.
They jockeyed for attention, dad, dad, look at this, you wouldn't believe that, come and look at this video, see my assignment, you wouldn't believe what happened at school today. It all passed so quickly, that terrible cliché that turned out to be so true. Enjoy them while you can, they grow up very quickly. He watched other parents now, the children on their hips, the travelling caravans, the scenes in cafes, crying. He missed all that, when there wasn't any doubt about your function in life, wehn they needed you so totally, pulling at his trouser legs, constantly demanding.
These parts of life were over before anything could be heard, before the origins could be discussed. He straightened his back with sadness, and knew there had to be new resolve, new paths. Grown and flown, was the phrase, as he looked with astonishment at the gallumphing giants of teenagers that used to be his sweetest, most adorable, adoring children. They had been as cute as a button, the pair of them, little blonde bombs about as good looking as children can be made. "He's so beautiful," the teacher said of Sammy in Primary School. "He's so beautiful some days I just find myself staring at him."
If it had been a male teacher you would have started in disapproval. But he knew exactly what she meant. Those big grey green eyes, that blonde hair, that chubby handsome face, he really had been a gorgeous child. Perhaps it was all just nature's way of ensuring that you protected them, but these times, all those photographs of him with the pair of them, clinging to their dad, it was all gone. He had always wanted children, but had been 39 when the first one came along. Now it's almost over, grown and flown, and he struggled to think of life without them. Would he come to visit them in their new lives, their careers, their marriages? Would they visit him, wherever he was, in the deep scrub, roaming the world? There weren't any answers, but it's true what they say: life is short. It's over before you know it.
THE BIGGER STORY:
http://www.smh.com.au/news/whale-watch/humans-could-be-to-blame-for-stranded-calf/2008/08/21/1219262390467.html
A female humpback whale abandoning her three-week-old calf? Not likely.
Experts say a baby whale alone in Sydney's Pittwater was probably separated from its mother by force.
And humans could even be to blame.
The baby humpback, believed to be about two or three weeks old, was first spotted on Sunday, nuzzling up to a yacht in an apparent search for its mother.
Authorities have suggested that the calf, nicknamed Colin, may have a biological problem, which led its mother to abandon it.
Experts have disagreed, saying a humpback female is very unlikely to abandon her calf, and would nurture it if it was sick.
Wally Franklin, Hervey Bay-based marine biologist with research group the Oceania Project, says ships in the waters off Sydney could be to blame, because they can break up sonic communication lines between whales.
http://ap.google.com/article/ALeqM5gDNLWfQWKrQc48pITBUg9KT_6oVwD92MQK0G0
POTI, Georgia (AP) — Russian forces dug trenches and built fortifications in key areas of Georgia Thursday, but also rolled columns of tanks north toward home, picking and choosing how their nation would comply with the terms of a peace accord.
A top Russian general said it could be more than 10 days before the bulk of the troops return to Russia.
Although Russian President Dmitry Medvedev has promised that his forces would pull back as far as separatist Ossetia and a surrounding zone by Friday, Russian troops appeared to be in no hurry — even settling down in strategic spots. This raised concerns about whether Moscow was aiming for a lengthy occupation of its smaller, pro-Western neighbor.
An EU-sponsored cease-fire requires both Russian and Georgian forces to move back to positions held before fighting broke out Aug. 7 in Georgia's separatist republic of South Ossetia, which has close ties to Russia. The Russians are allowed to remain in zones around Georgia's borders with South Ossetia and another separatist region, Abkhazia.
The war in Georgia, a small country straining to escape Moscow's influence, has sent tensions between Moscow and the West to the highest levels since the 1991 breakup of the Soviet Union.
NATO, Russia's Cold War foe, said it had received a note from Moscow announcing that Russia is halting military cooperation with the trans-Atlantic alliance.
On Wednesday, U.S. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice and her Polish counterpart signed a deal to build an American missile defense base in Poland after a top Russian general warned last week that Poland was risking an attack, possibly a nuclear one, by developing the base.
http://www.news.com.au/heraldsun/story/0,21985,24220103-5000117,00.html
Steve Lewis
August 22, 2008 12:00am
AUSTRALIA is being short-changed by gutless political leaders who place rank populism ahead of constructive debate on sensible reform.
Kevin Rudd and Brendan Nelson are guilty of playing the politics of fear, the Prime Minister with his nonsensical "just say no" stance on nuclear power.
Labor is kidding if it believes nuclear has no place in a future energy framework.
Debate has been reignited after the Coalition's trade spokesman, Ian Macfarlane, earlier this week outlined a compelling case for nuclear energy.
He said our best hope of making a serious dent in greenhouse emissions is embracing nuclear as a clean source of base load energy, as the US and European powers have.
What a shame that some of Rudd's Cabinet colleagues, sensible folk like Resources Minister Martin Ferguson, don't have the ticker to endorse a rational (public) debate on nuclear power.
Many in the resources sector believe the promise of "clean coal" is about as likely as Brendan Nelson leading the Liberal Party to the next election.
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