(no subject)
Dec. 23rd, 2002 09:40 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hnpccThe older I get the more sympathy I have for Mary. 9 months pregnant, sitting on a bloody donkey, probably in early labour and it's looking increasingly like you'll be giving birth in the gutter.
Geez you'd be happy.
And wouldn't it be hard to do a Roman census today? Go back to where your fathers came from to be counted. I'd be stuffed - I can go back to my grandfather and at that point it becomes confusing. To say the least. Dean would be totally stuffed - he has no idea beyond where his father was born, and before that there's not a lot of information. (He could of course ask his grandmothers, but given family secrets thats probably not a great idea).
And how far back do you go? I'm fairly right there - to the best of my knowledge we end up somewhere around the UK every time (as does Dean) but given that Australia is predominantly a nation of immigrants (with, of course, indigenous people as well) and there were/are a lot of intermarriages (well, some intermarriage. Some just children conceived of "interactions" between local groups, particularly where sealers and unfortunate aboriginal women crossed paths) between both immigrant groups and indigenous groups it would get confusing quickly. This is brought into quick relief by the ATSIC elections. If you have an aboriginal ancestor you can claim aboriginality and vote in ATSIC. I have 1 English-born grandmother and the best I can get is an extended working visa! ;-) (If she was my grandfather, on the other hand, I could claim citizenship. Interesting, isn't it? My Canadian-born grandfather on the other hand gives me no Canadian citizenship rights at all. :-) And the only elections I can vote in are state, federal and local. Oh and university union, not that I do.)
For me Christmas is mostly about family. Since my grandparents died, Christmas has become the main occasion I catch up with my cousins unless there's a wedding or a funeral. Even though we're all in the same city, we're scattered across it and we don't usually manage to see each other in the meantime. Since the older ones started having kids it's become even more difficult to make time.
Last year Christmas was a very strange time. My grandmother had been dying for three months by that stage, and so I spent most of Nov/Dec working night shifts and driving several times a week to my parents place to help my Mum. I knew from working at PMCI that people do have some control over natural dying - it's amazing the number of people who hang on until after important anniversaries - and from things she'd said earlier before losing speech we thought it likely that she would choose to die after Christmas. Christmas day was sombre but at the same time very nice. We each spent turns sitting with Grandma up at Fairview, with the hymns CD going quietly in the background, chatting quietly with the nursing staff who popped in every now and then to make sure that everything was OK.
The hardest thing was when my uncle and myself left to drive back to Melbourne - both of us knew that this was probably the last time we'd see her alive, and saying goodbye took on new meaning.
It was. She died 10 minutes after my other uncle arrived (having driven over the speed limit the whole way from Melbourne when Mum phoned) on Boxing Day. My brother, de facto brother-in-law and father went to the Boxing Day test. There wasn't really a lot left to do, and Mum basically said she was fine to organise it with my sisters.
This year my uncle - the one I drove to/from Melbourne with - is in PMCI with lymphoma. He's already had one lot of chemo (didn't work), radiotherapy (worked on one tumour but not the other) and a new treatment that is in clinical trials (didn't work). Now he's up to last ditch chemo. It's going to be another quiet Christmas.
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Geez you'd be happy.
And wouldn't it be hard to do a Roman census today? Go back to where your fathers came from to be counted. I'd be stuffed - I can go back to my grandfather and at that point it becomes confusing. To say the least. Dean would be totally stuffed - he has no idea beyond where his father was born, and before that there's not a lot of information. (He could of course ask his grandmothers, but given family secrets thats probably not a great idea).
And how far back do you go? I'm fairly right there - to the best of my knowledge we end up somewhere around the UK every time (as does Dean) but given that Australia is predominantly a nation of immigrants (with, of course, indigenous people as well) and there were/are a lot of intermarriages (well, some intermarriage. Some just children conceived of "interactions" between local groups, particularly where sealers and unfortunate aboriginal women crossed paths) between both immigrant groups and indigenous groups it would get confusing quickly. This is brought into quick relief by the ATSIC elections. If you have an aboriginal ancestor you can claim aboriginality and vote in ATSIC. I have 1 English-born grandmother and the best I can get is an extended working visa! ;-) (If she was my grandfather, on the other hand, I could claim citizenship. Interesting, isn't it? My Canadian-born grandfather on the other hand gives me no Canadian citizenship rights at all. :-) And the only elections I can vote in are state, federal and local. Oh and university union, not that I do.)
For me Christmas is mostly about family. Since my grandparents died, Christmas has become the main occasion I catch up with my cousins unless there's a wedding or a funeral. Even though we're all in the same city, we're scattered across it and we don't usually manage to see each other in the meantime. Since the older ones started having kids it's become even more difficult to make time.
Last year Christmas was a very strange time. My grandmother had been dying for three months by that stage, and so I spent most of Nov/Dec working night shifts and driving several times a week to my parents place to help my Mum. I knew from working at PMCI that people do have some control over natural dying - it's amazing the number of people who hang on until after important anniversaries - and from things she'd said earlier before losing speech we thought it likely that she would choose to die after Christmas. Christmas day was sombre but at the same time very nice. We each spent turns sitting with Grandma up at Fairview, with the hymns CD going quietly in the background, chatting quietly with the nursing staff who popped in every now and then to make sure that everything was OK.
The hardest thing was when my uncle and myself left to drive back to Melbourne - both of us knew that this was probably the last time we'd see her alive, and saying goodbye took on new meaning.
It was. She died 10 minutes after my other uncle arrived (having driven over the speed limit the whole way from Melbourne when Mum phoned) on Boxing Day. My brother, de facto brother-in-law and father went to the Boxing Day test. There wasn't really a lot left to do, and Mum basically said she was fine to organise it with my sisters.
This year my uncle - the one I drove to/from Melbourne with - is in PMCI with lymphoma. He's already had one lot of chemo (didn't work), radiotherapy (worked on one tumour but not the other) and a new treatment that is in clinical trials (didn't work). Now he's up to last ditch chemo. It's going to be another quiet Christmas.
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