G'day

A birthday seems as good at time as any to start spinning yarns in a blog.

Yep, last week was my birthday and the good people of Facebook sent me lots of happy birthday messages. I don't know most of them but it was a really nice thing for them to do. There were even a couple of cards in my Suggestion Box on Lipson St. So thanks everyone, you made my day special.

Granny Gladys and Aunt Pearl had me over for a birthday dinner - honestly, they should open a place in the Port, they'd be packed out - the food is so good.  I had a few beers at the Railway after that (cheers Fred) and when I got home to Jane Street, happy and with a full belly, there was a parcel waiting for me at the door.  

I don't know who it was from but there was a note and, in the box, an empty key ring.  The note said "we've thrown away the keys, the Port's open and it's all yours, sorry."  I couldn't wipe the grin off my face – what a good prank, I thought.

When I was growing up in the Port it was tough but good at the same time. Even 60 years ago Port Adelaide was full of history and a bit gritty.  Geez, it was a real port, so it had ships and boats and stuff - a place where kids and their imaginations could run wild.  The best thing was that it didn't matter who you were or where you came from, if you were a good bloke (or woman, sorry Gran), you'd always be welcomed by the locals and there'd a place for you if you wanted to stay and be a part of things. That’s the reason I came back from my travels.

You see, I ran into a guy in Turkey of all places. Years ago, his dad and mine worked together on the waterfront in the Timber Mills. This bloke was telling me that property developers were trying to change the people of the Port. I just couldn't believe it.  So since Gran and Pearl aren't getting any younger, I thought it was probably the right time to come see for myself.

It's good to back home. There's something real special about this place.  

The other night Gran, Aunt Pearl and I were having a good laugh about the old times when Gran mentioned this woman named Minnie who used to ride around the Port on an old pushbike. I remembered her, too, but confessed that when I was a kid, my mates and I used to make fun of her.   Minnie never said a word to us and never did anyone any harm. She moved so slowly on that bike, how she kept it upright, I’ll never know but there she was, every day, riding around in her own world.  She'd stop every now and again to pick up cigarette butts, which she took home and re-rolled into a single smoke.  I’m ashamed to say it now but we kids saw her as an easy target.  

Anyway, one day in about ’45, us kids were outside the Ozone (here's a picture of it in St Vincent St - its a River's shop now - ironic name, hey?).  We were jumping up and down alongside Minnie, poking fun, pretending to smoke and acting kinda weirda.  No sooner than we’d started, but out of his shop comes Big Jim and lands me a stinging clip under the ear. Yeow! In his deep voice Jim said sternly, "Don't be an idiot, son. Minnie don't deserve to be laughed at. You get outa here before I tell your dad."   Well, I ran all the way home, scared as all get out.  Dad didn't say anything, which made it all the worse. For weeks after, there I was just waiting for another physical reminder to behave myself.

When I finished telling my yarn, Gran, looking sad, said it was a good thing that Jim stood up for Minnie, cos that was the right thing to do. Minnie had fallen on hard times. Gran didn't blame us "you kids weren't to know", she said and went back to quietly knitting. Gran doesn’t like to gossip and I know better than to pry but all the stuff about what it means to be a Portonian came flooding back to me and I was real glad to be having my birthday back home.  The people make sense here.

Well, I’ve been banging on for long enough today. I hope you liked my yarning.  I must remember to write to that guy in Syria and tell him that the developers didn't win and that the people of Port Adelaide haven’t changed the way they think. There’s still a place for everyone, and even though we don't take ourselves too seriously, it doesn't stop us from looking out for the next person.

It’s the people today who are responsible for tomorrow’s stories – the ones our kids will learn from. I know I’ve only been back a while but I’m chuffed that the developers and their locks are gone. The best birthday present ever (sorry Gran, I still love the socks...!). And thanks to all those people who helped to move them on!

The Port is now open – it belongs to us again - to the descendants of Lartelare and SA’s settlers, the sailors, the wharfies, and the immigrants; to the shop keepers, artists, and truckies; to people down on their luck and those able to make their own; to Fred, Big Jim, Minnie, Gran, Aunty Pearl; and to all the kids, the mums and the dads; and to everyone who has a connection to South Australia - it all passed through here. I, for one, will be getting a little more involved in shaping the future of our gritty, wonderful town - and I won't be waiting for permission!

Larry


ps Would it be to much to ask for a Port Premiership this year, too?  Go you Maggies!