With two cars up and running the families spent many a good times
travelling to places like the ‘Georges River’ and ‘Warragamba Dam’.
These outings helped alleviate the claustrophobic environment familiarity with
‘Hostel’ conditions ensued. Once the Scotsdon’s and their friends reached their
destination the main recreational activities for the children were swimming and
playing while the adults enjoyed unwinding by lazing in the sunshine and
gorging on picnic snacks and cold beer. More people could fit into the back of
the ‘van’ than could fit in Ted’s ‘sedan’, so this day all the kids went in the
back of the ‘van’ to ‘Warragamba Dam’ with Don’s uncle Ben driving and
his aunt Peg in the passenger seat. This was a time when the road to the ‘Dam’
was dirt and the hill steep. The old car was not powerful enough to propel
itself up the hill with such a load, so all including the driver got out and
helped push. Uncle Ben would have half his bum on the seat, one foot on the
ground, and the other foot on the accelerator. Don’s parents went up the hill
with relative ease in their ‘Austin’ and in passing they laughed and jeered
affectionately as they left them breathless in a cloud of dust.
Don basked in the joy of the weekends, especially when they went on his
favourite excursions to the beach. He and his parent’s travelled to ‘Brighton-Le-Sands’
and ‘Ramsgate’ a few times, and he once he went with his uncle Ben and
aunt Peg and their kids to ‘Bondi’. He cherished the sight of the blue
waters lapping fine golden sands and the gentle surf washing against weathered
rocks while whisking the perfume of seaweed to scent the clean crisp air.
Sandcastles built with youthful uncomplicated proficiency lay at the mercy of
the incoming tide to slowly consume and engulfe each tiny crystal. Even at the
age of six with such infantile perception he realised there was no similarity
to this environment and always displayed his usual tantrum when it was time to
depart for home.
For the first time he took notice of cruelty to animals when witnessing
a fisherman hooking what he saw as a defenceless living creature wriggling in
dread and pain and fighting for air and freedom. It was difficult for him to
understand or express his feelings of concern for the fish and failed to
comprehend why this person was hurting it. He ate fish many times and naturally
knew they swum in the ocean but never associated them as alive before human
consumption. It seemed so barbaric to him and a waste as it lay on the sand
gasping and suffering a slow and torturous death. His tears lured his mother to
explain;
“Don't be silly Don. A lot
of people catch and eat fish. It’s the same as we eat at home. Any meat comes
from......” She stopped so as not to confuse him, then only half thinking of
his capability to correlate the facts to his perceptual skills, she mumbled;
“Humans are basically evil
within themselves and you’ll have to learn to accept there’s lots of bad in
this world; nothing lasts forever. Where do you think meat comes from anyway?
Now go and play.” Don had no idea what she was talking about. When he matured
and heard her repeat similar phrases he made light of the meaning behind the
wording but it did not help much, besides accepting the necessity to butcher
for food he still found it absurd to tolerate harm caused to any living
organism and never learnt to accept people’s wrongful conduct; in general,
throughout life, he suffered sombre reflections to the most infinitesimal
situations regarding cruelty.
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