SOUL MINING

 

Investigating the past often involves travel and a second visit to Cootamundra occupied a few days for Kerry and me during this last week. Kerry was after some further intelligence on her family and the home of the turtle is definitely a base station for research and signage.

In transit, we passed through Harden on Thursday morning and it seemed almost deserted. The hub of the community (i.e. the Chinese restaurant) featured a ‘Closed’ card on the door which was probably significant. In fact, the whole place looked like a series of cardboard cut-outs which had slightly faded in the sun. While decay might be too harsh a word, there was an absence of humans and activity. Kerry and I walked the main street alone. Even the one operating pub only had action in the cellars and not on ground level. Muffled noise which couldn’t quite be pegged. Perhaps a theme for our task.

The entry to Cootamundra involved a first-up stop at the cemetery. Surprisingly large, it was very much a location of two parts. The first and older segment comprised knocked over gravestones, parched earth and snakes but the second did have some grass and more modern plots. Kerry located two important gravesites of her family members so the search was fruitful. I noticed a large goods train slowly making progress near one border of the property but there didn’t appear to be any goods on board and it would have been close to a kilometre in length.

While many parts of regional New South Wales are currently experiencing drought, we were surprised by the vast fields of canola that were everywhere around Cootamundra. However, we did hear one story that the lack of rain would mean that some of these fields would be used to feed livestock in preference to later harvesting. Appearances can be deceptive.

Cootamundra was large and there were plenty of people to be seen in the streets. The obligatory rural lingerie outlet may have seen better days but quite a few cafes, stores and commercial offices were located on the main drag. All Coota’s streets display great buildings, residences and parks and you could hit a reasonable approach wedge across most thoroughfares and fall short of the opposite side.

The railway still exerts a strong influence on the town and there’s the semi-regular distant rumble of bogies crossing iron junctures just like in the movies. Where those long metal snakes are going is anyone’s guess…..maybe to the far side of that graveyard.

The links between town and country were reinforced when Kerry not only found further primary sources of her family history in the local library but also Maguire/ Regan footprints in the fab Records made real- Lebanese settlement 1865 to 1945 bound paperback. Cootamundra and Gundagai aren’t that far apart and I salute amalgamation. I guess that my Leb background may lead to annual drug testing and man bag weapons’ searches. Hell, I hope the neighbours don’t find out. I’m now part of the problem concerning Middle Eastern infiltration of this once clean and respectable nation.

To qualify as a genuine recount, I’m compelled to assert that a good time was had by all. Kerry’s prospecting hit the mother lode and she has subsequently attacked the computer here at the ranch for data entry processes. I could live in Cootamundra but they’re going to have to do something about the exorbitant prices being asked for a quick 9 holes at the country club. Even a mad Arab would baulk at 25 readies on a weekday afternoon. Hang on, I qualify for that too.