The Battle Begins...

My Dad, career RAAF serviceman and veteran was one never to miss an Anzac day dawn service. Each year, for as long as I can remember, he would be up early, swallow a quick cuppa, don his dark blue uniform, medals and carefully polished black shoes and head to the town memorial.  He and other past and present servicemen and women gathering just before the crack of dawn in remembrance.

I'm not even sure if he had done this his entire life, he just may have, since my grandfather was also a serviceman and war veteran.  I could imagine the boys all going to the dawn service each year...

This year he missed it. He just wasn't feeling that great.

It was a concern.  Along with a varied grouping of other seemingly odd health issues, headaches, dizziness that wouldn't go away, he finally went back to the doctor.

Yesterday I found out he has a brain tumor, and other areas of cancer.  A nightmarish event that obviously has hit the entire family, but has also created a great deal of guilt and anxiety for me here.

In the US, 10,000 miles away.

What would I do in the event that something happened at home, and I wouldn't have the money to get back? 

So reality having hit hard, on top of a variety of other things I have realized the enormous amount of preparation, phone calls, arrangements and other issues that comes with getting back home.  Its usually this kind of thing that causes great concern to expats, one of those things always at the back of the mind, every so often invading the thoughts.

The sad truth of the matter is that my fears have become a glaring reality, I have no money to get home.  Among the economic woes of a hard hit work force here in the US, and earning very little, the complexity of what to do and stress of the overall situation has undoubtedly brought out the fear in all of us.  However it also brings to the forefront a deep rooted determination and many brainstormed ideas, that probably wouldn't have emerged had not a crisis situation developed.  So its with these ideas that we have developed plans and counter plans. 


This is War!
and the battle begins, on two fronts. One for my dad and one for me.  Determined to get home, my family half way round the world with the same determination, all of us ripping apart the seams of impossibility.

And Back to the Real World...

It seems odd that having been in Texas for almost 3 years now, we have not visited the Grassy Knoll, Dealey Plaza.  Something to be said for that.  It just seems like something that should have been done, you know?   Wisconsin, I considered an old red school bus used for the sale of flowers, fruit and vegies a quirky small town photo worthy opportunity. In Michigan it was a replica of a Danish statue, Illinois, mostly the botanical garden, and Kentucky it was everything, mostly due to it being the first state I lived in, in the US.

Though in hindsight, I never thought I'd be living in Texas, for one.  And I guess never considered the fact that I may have had the opportunity to visit an area of such controversial history.  I've decided that perhaps next weekend might just be the time to take the girls to visit.  Now the weather is a little better.. kind of, in comparison to say, where we've lived before.

Dealey Plaza  MU.EDU

For me, this is of probably a little more significance that my girls would care to explore.  I'm a history buff, number 1, number 2, I have a degree covering investigations that, in this case compels a little extra research into exactly where the whole horrid issue had taken place; that is, which window, or shrub (depending on which side of the controversy you may wish to lean) was the cover.  Research of course also means that I can extend that knowledge to my fledglings... regardless of whether they really want to hear it or not.

Its one of the things that parents can do to brighten thier day...