I’ve been reading about the renewed buzz in Melbourne’s CBD after dark but until last night I hadn’t experienced it.
We had tickets to the Rone exhibition ‘Time’, an artistically dusty love letter to Melbourne’s past.
Not a history lesson. An interpretation of the space.
But wandering (sneezing) home on a hot summer’s night in the city, the free candlelight concert at Fed Square drew us in.
A beautifully chill night cap.
This city’s still got it.
Sometimes you feel like a boss lady. And sometimes you’re working in bare feet and drowning in sticky notes.
Anyone else relate?
My mum bought me the ‘Boss Lady’ desk thingy because it was pink, and because it said words she thought were both funny and encapsulated me. Another side says ‘yeah, nah’ ?
I love working across different projects. In my everyday life I work as an integral part of the ResilientCo team, as well as with my own clients in crisis communications and public relations.
The past few weeks have been a balance of strategic planning and crisis support.
Shifting between the two requires a different mindset and focus but working on one prepares you for the other.
I don’t love a New Years Resolution. They seem fleeting, pointless, and TBH I never stick to them because my focus changes and then feel guilty.
However, in the spirit of the New Year, Dr Lisa Chaffey ClinScD PLY challenged me to consider what I wanted from 2023. In one word.
For a day and a half I mulled this over.
Wisdom. Opportunity. Yes. Growth. Change. Gratitude.
All worthy words, but discarded.
I finally settled on ‘Focus’.
Lisa asked why. And it’s because whatever I do – whatever that may be – I want to do it well, being present and with focus.
That to me means work, new opportunities, family or fun.
It’s not quite a resolution, it’s not quite a goal. It’s an anchor, an errr, focus, if you will ?
In one word, what is your 2023 bringing ?
New Years Focus
Early in the morning, I was startled out of a deep sleep by the CFA call out siren. Heart pounding, I wondered if that was the sign that a levee at Kerang had broken.
Staying in the middle of the almost deserted town, I was part of the ResilientCo team supporting Gannawarra Shire Council’s efforts in flood response, relief and early recovery planning.
An evacuation order in place, shops were shut or open for only limited hours. Essential services, health, emergency services and council staff made up the bulk of trade looking for coffee in the quiet streets.
On the outskirts of the town and across the Shire, the focus was on patrolling the levees, sandbagging and other operations designed to hold the water back or limit its impact, and providing information and services to community. Slowly the water has been rolling in to some communities, and rolling past others.
It’s been a hard slog, and remains a hard slog. The impacts are still becoming known, and the water is still threatening in some areas. The agriculture sector has already been hit hard.
This week, returning for a second deployment after the evacuation was lifted, I had to battle for a car park in the Main Street. People are relieved to return to their community. Services are not at full tilt because some staff are still isolated away. The smell of stagnant water hangs heavy.
There’s a lot of wisdom in the Shire about the water and what it might do. The old flood heads have been listened to, their knowledge often acted upon.
Community members have been challenged to make decisions about their own safety and capabilities. In Kerang and in Cohuna in particular, the community has banded together.
Not yet totally through the response, some of the Gannawarra communities have seen this before and know what the next bit may be like.
It’s devastating. And it’s going to be a long haul.
I wrote about the lives of many I never got to meet.
As a young journalist, I asked questions of their loved ones to learn about them, and to share their lives and loss with the wider world.
The love and grief in family, in friends, with so many missing early on, and later, confirmed lost, was a grief felt by those closest to them as well as a town, a nation and the world.
Through the Lee family and the Cartwright family I learned how much Aaron, Justin and Stacey Lee and Bronwyn Cartwright meant to the world.
Therese Fox, who survived incredible odds, felt like a miracle. Her generous and loving family allowed me in to the Sydney hospital where she began her treatment and recovery. They allowed me to follow her life for the next 12 months as she gained strength and met the first year anniversary of a bombing that rocked Bali and Australia.
I spent the first anniversary of the bombing in Bali. I listened to each of the names of the many dead read out as part of the memorial ceremony, the voices rolling their names like waves of grief over the crowd.
It’s been 20 years. It’s only been 20 years.
It’s unlikely that grief has lessened for the families of any of those who were lost.
Those tears don’t end.
October 12 2002