Too soon to say goodbye

 It is hard to explain the impact of a life when the tilt of the universe is knocked off-balance by the circumstances of loss, and finding equilibrium again is still proving to be a challenge, but here is an attempt.

In November, two people we needed passed away. The first was someone who worked beside a privileged few but was unknown by many, least of all the public who receive benefit from her work every day. Her name was Joanna Meakins and she scoped the functionalities available to everyone who uses Trove, Australia's most significant social and cultural discovery platform. One of her more recent colleagues wrote this:

In his poem, "The Second Coming", WB Yeats categorises people as the best, who "lack all conviction"  while the worst are "full of passionate intensity".  I'm not sure what he'd have made of Jo. Jo, who both determinedly lacked conviction in her own abilities, yet epitomised passionate intensity.  

For Jo was one of the very best.  She was a great friend, always ready to reassure, encourage and inspire, despite being completely resistant herself to absorbing the regard and praise sent her way.  

If someone could "care too much" about the people around her, Jo did.  If someone could "worry too much" about work, she did that too.   

In her years at the National Library, Jo's emphatic and relentless representation of the public, those silent and invisible users of the library's resources, made everything she touched better.  Her intellect, courage and hard work made the lives of thousands of people more productive and enjoyable -  people she never met, people who will never know her name.  

There were many times it would have been much easier for her to acquiesce to the inward-focussed group-think that congenially sabotages every organisation, but her advocacy never wavered, she was never afraid to "speak truth to power".  She took the right path, despite the personal cost.

That she is now gone is unfathomable, unfair, impossible. 

It seems to make no sense - it is unreasonable - a flash of desperation, a spike of sadness that can't be undone. 

Many of us have been there, to that point where it seems that, to quote Yeats, "the centre cannot hold", but so far, for us, with some combination of luck, a thick-enough skin and blinking away from reality at that crucial moment, we've made it through.

Just as our happy memories of Jo will live on in us, the lucky ones who knew her.

Joanna was 42 years old; she left three pre-teenage children. [1]

The second person was barrister Sandy Dawson SC. Someone I did not know, but such was the outpouring of public personal distress when he died that his achievements could not be ignored. 

His work was incredibly important to Australian society, and included establishing a 21st century precedent for defamation law when he was successful in 2014 in obtaining damages for misrepresentation on social media platforms. 

Mr Dawson was 50 years old; he left four teenaged children. [2]

Part of the versatile functionality of Trove is a feature for making simple lists of items discovered while searching the content. It was scoped by Joanna. 

Not all of Mr Dawson's work is in the public domain, being sub judice or only available within the legal sector, but it is possible to draw some threads together into a Trove list. It is by no means exhaustive, but indicates the breadth of intellectual endeavour achieved by one person in a short time.  

A modest memorial to these two extraordinary people. 

References:

The first Trove logo, created when its list feature was developed, is shown above. 

[1] Jo in the original Trove T-Shirt, 2013, from facebook

[2] Sandy Dawson in 2016, https://bit.ly/3HINBgo. 

My life as a souvenir

In my current role, I have the privilege of seeking out souvenirs of the city in which I work. An added bonus is the discovery of  items for my own home town. The quirky and the quaint are equally valued; but items with images have a double layer of meaning. I recently discovered one of these gems; here are the highlights.

Oak Avenue was part way along the Pacific Highway from Tweed Heads to Murwillumbah. 

My parents drove this way south to the District Hospital - the concrete slabs made a comforting railway track noise. After too many road accidents, the trees were eventually cut down. The now unmarked avenue has been bypassed, but is still a thoroughfare to the hinterland.   

My younger brothers and I were born under the pointed outlook of Wollumbin. 

The border fence separating Tweed Heads from Coolangatta had a dual role as the boundary delineating the playground for the children attending Tweed Heads Public School. 

The main street of Tweed Heads, Wharf Street, had buildings on one side only until the early 1970s when the "back channel" was reclaimed to develop the main shopping centre Tweed Mall. It was also the scene of many street parades, including Red Cross girls. 

The recreation ground in the centre of the image (pre-reclamation) was essential for primary school school athletics carnivals and the "march past".

The chalet was on top of the Razorback lookout, which took advantage of the view. 

Snapper Rocks Baths at Point Danger were a summer destination for all Tweed Heads children learning to swim. 

Jack Evans' Pet Porpoise Pool Tweed Heads

Travelling to Tweed River High School on the bus meant crossing the Boyds Bay bridge (out of view on the right of the image) past Ukerebagh Island in the Tweed River. 

There was much excitement in Geography class when we had to travel to Stotts Island for an in-the-field excursion. Until we experienced the leeches. It's one of the few locations on the Tweed which has retained its natural environment.

My first fully paid job, at the rate of $6.00 per day, was in the Kirra Beach cafe serving milkshakes and ice creams. Sweeping the floor once earned me an extra $10.00 which had fluttered out of someone's pocket. One year I spent a whole week's wages going to the Ekka.

Like my places of casual work, my favourite beaches were in Queensland. I spent my last day at Greenmount before going off to university.

Not a place I knew very well, living at the opposite end of the Shire, Cudgen became significant after I left home. Helping others to access local materials about Cudgen in faraway repostories led me to becoming a history researcher.

The Coolangatta, Q. label for the booklet is at odds with the subject matter - 10 of the 12 images were taken over the border in New South Wales. Sometimes, twins are inseparable.

Thanks to