Monday 21 November 2016

82 Not Out! Hits the keyboard again

Yes...it’s about time and you will cheer because this update doesn’t go anywhere near the U.S. elections. How good is that?

            Why the long absence? Simple really...spent eight days in both the North and South Surgical wards at Cairns Base Hospital...and didn’t have an op. How good is that? Well it’s pretty good when you receive the kind of care I did. All praise to the staff. Over loaded in every department and area including the latest technology-they remain caring and professional coping with patients even as difficult as this outspoken Not Outer. Enuff of all that...I could tell you the whole story but enough to say it was a MIGHTY BIG WAKE UP CALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!

BIG BIG BIGGEST JOY -WHANAU ALL SAFE IN N.Z. EARTHQUAKES.
   scared and concerned during tremors but all safe!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Note- not a word about the U.S. elections or the unbelievable chaos trauma, displacement tragedies, riots and violence rocking our planet. My hero of the month the one man found in U.S. who did not know the election result...(tv little clip)

Now the joyfull stuff after a few weeks recovery and moving into a whole new lifecycle, diet, and hospital referral appointment diary –oh just love the nurses at North Cairns Community Health Facility..They are .the best ever helping me stay Not Out and getting me back into short fiction, poetry and blogging.

THEN-Unbelievable joy- Captain and Mrs Clara (or was it Candice?) Curlew appeared at my backdoor to parade their two new chicks. Amazing little chaps with such long long spindly legs. Just seeing them parading with such confidence lifted the heart strings.
THEN I listened to Alan Alda’s Press Club address. What a fabulous performance and well worth following up. This great actor has been working for years with scientists helping them to engage and communicate with listeners. He expressed concern about the way writers particularly educationalists share text with listeners. I have been saying for years that few writers share their original work effectively. Summing that up Alda’s advice: “excitement is contagious-so enthuse listeners.”  is the way to honour your own creative writing. Hopefully a few Not Outer addresses with tips on that  in 2017.
THEN- more joy watching the on screen Wiggles visit to Yarrabah-yes, excitement is contagious-what a delight to watch the young faces there!
THEN an unexpected lunch outing to the Baron River Falls Hotel –wonderful to step into such a historical treasure. Once a home from home for timber workers, the Tully Hotel developed as a stop on the Tableland rail line. Such historic places are always a joy for a writer encouraging one to dip into the past.
A big joy to finish off today – The physio at NCCHF took one look at me pushing the wheelie I had been given (don’t ask how...don’t even go there... never ask a poor writer how he or she comes by things)) and stated that it was a definite No No for me because half the time I was pushing with the brake on. Within ten minutes I had signed for  a NEW WHEELIE to be delivered before Christmas!!!!
The phone just rang as I was writing this...so someone up there  (you know where away from planetary chaos )is already reading this blog!!!
It is  being delivered tomorrow!Wonderful Queensland Labour Government!!!!!!

WOW! This Not Outer is beginning to live again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Some short stories and poems coming your way soon!
New books Spin Into Drama and Spin Into Speech & Drama Early Years   
have hit New Zealand -to be launched in Cairns soon.

Friday 16 September 2016

82 Not Out!  17th September 2016

The Good the Bad and the You’ve got to be kidding!

Heaps of good going  on up here in Qld.  Boy they grow them tough up here!First YEAH!  YEAH!   YEAH!  the COWBOYS and a yeah! yeah! to the Broncos. What a great game and Yes, this academic recorded Elizabeth for gentler viewing later!

More good news that 17 year-old offenders will no longer be sent to adult prisons in this state-and not before time!

International good news – Loud cheers for great actor Gerge Clooney instrumental in the organisation The Sentry. It has been following money trails for several years and has released news of leaders in corrupt countries (Sudan is one noted) who are keeping wars alive simply to profit by them.Guess money trails around wars always lead to profit for someone somewhere.

On money  stuff  great to listen to Everard Compton ( amazing fellow Not Outer!) addressing the Press Club stressing that pensioners arn’t all alike, that they can’t be stereotyped into one basket.  He stressed that continuous Aus. governments have missed the forest for the trees and that social and ethical contracts have diminished when it comes to fair and adequate pensions. Shocking genuine stats and thought provoking anecdotes of deprivation given.

Gee I’m glad I have two of my own  teeth left to grip very old dentures after hearing how many Australians have to blend their food because of dentistry costs.! Yes JCU training centre I will be heading your way sometime soon.

OH THE REALLY BAD news...Need I embark on it. The world is truly in one hell of  a mess  and close to home so is the Senate...so No I am not going either topic today  Won’t use energy to enter or listen to what I would have  kicked my kids out of home for saying!

Now the You’ve got to be kidding section.One news item upset me somewhat and I’ve only seen it on screen once.That whilst United Nations  accepts the legal responsibility it is refusing the moral obligation to pay compensation to Haiiti for the cholera it introduced there.

On a different note speaking to another writer the  other day (yes, don’t forget I am and always have been a writer –prolific across the genre and moderately successful-usually undervalued and always underpaid)...well this other writer said,

“I’ve just read a book- but it was crap. Now I’m coming to understand two things.-either the back blurb on the cover is false advertising –or the book was written for an audience I just don’t understand.”

Reminded me that I had the biggest laugh ever about life insurance ads. No.it wasn’t yet another, yet another, and still another funeral plan –it was a pregnant  mum- delighting the dad to be that they are going to be parents soon...and this is where the you’ve got to be kidding (or thick?) comes in...he promptly says  what they immediately need is an insurance plan!  My laughter was the memory reflection when I told men in my life they were going to be Dad’s and what their response was. Believe me friends insurance would have been the last piece of advice I received.
So  writers on and off the screen shouldn’t dialogue be REAL, RELEVANT and REVEAling???????????????????????????????????
Oh promise another short story or poem next blog...mean time more news My  Spin IntoSpeech and Drama Early Years is with publisher to be printed soon. Blessings,thanks for reading feel free to pass on!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hzl



Sunday 11 September 2016

82 Not Out! heard a really great life story the other day.

It was an unexpected gift that landed in my lap during a visit to a full afternoon at a St John’s Community Service social gathering.That’s the kind of environment where a writer can hear life stories from amazing folk all ages diverse and interesting. 

The day I went to meet the group I soon realised that some were over coming immense challenges in their ‘one day at a time’ everyday lives. The genuine hospitality of the carers there, the social contact, the bobs, and the bingo and of course the fellowship and camaraderie was an eye-opener for this Not Outer.

Now the remarkable life story leapt into life when it was announced the day was a special celebration day for one of the carers. The amiable man who lifted and gently moved those needing assistance told the gathering he had gained his Australian citizenship. Great cheers and smiles followed. Some around the afternoon tea table had assisted him in some way to achieve this desired status. 
Gradually I learned this small kind man who had been working at St John’s for the past three years was a refugee who arrived in Australia after spending 18 years in a refugee camp in Bhutan.

This is the kind of story that doesn’t make world headlines but it really set me thinking.
realized I was suddenly seeing another side of the refugee coin.One we don't see often enough in the media.

We are constantly bombarded with the news of boat people arrivals. We watch horrific events and episodes of the refugee crisis which is unfolding globally.  Our hearts go out to those experiencing such appalling conditions. We want to help them all –but we and governments worldwide have complex issues to solve to do so.

Unfortunately glibly phrased political rhetoric about dealing with our legitimised authorised refugee quota before accepting thousands of boat people doesn’t make the same impact as horrific current screen scenarios.

So as I watched this benevolent new Australian citizen I asked how anyone could judge or choose between his experience awaiting in a camp 18 years to begin a new and better life as more or less important than parents risking boats to send  children away from the horrors of war.

A massive percentage of all refugees are children.

As a mother, grandmother and great grandmother I have only  commonsense suggestions about all this.  First and foremost how about a quick hurry up to whittle down the legitimate refugee intake. ..and let’s hear more about the success stories...sort out the off shore detention crisis soon as possible...then get a move on to take more of the boat kids in...(into our country not someone else’s) because they didn’t choose the world to be this way...any more than  I did as a kid under the kitchen table in the London Blitz.

I was given safety some love and a community to grow up in and I reckoned I turned out alright

What d’you reckon??

Wednesday 17 August 2016

82 NOT OUT Aug 18.

Been wondering –is it just my age that brings certain issues to my notice?

First QuestionIs it just Not Outers noticing that there is  a current tsunami glut of funeral insurance ads on our tele screens at present.?Another thought-are insurers cashing in on the escalating FEAR and DREAD trembling round the country when the China Sea is mentioned?

Guess main reason for such  ads is that many eyes have been glued to the Olympic screen wonder show where many a trip, fall or triumph  calculated in nanno seconds holds the attention of millions.

Whilst Australia like other countries rejoices on the daily national medal tally I’ve had some reflective thoughts.Of course for  myself some special memorable highlights. The first being -

Bulla,Bulla Yeah!Yeah! Yeah! Fiji-a First Gold medal for thisPacific nation. The Sevens team deserve a national holiday on return home! Thumbs up my Pacific brothers and the sisters cheering them on. Grass or should I say coral root success story.
Then tears in my eyes for the appearance  of  Refugee Olympic Team –allpower to those who made this possible.
Now the profound stuff
What sort of message does this Olympics send the world when everyday Brazilians can’t afford the spectator seats a great percentage of which have not been sold? Isn’t something out of kilter in the fact that only now are these being made available to host country folk?
Interesting too that PEN reports that since 2004  24 bloggers and print journalists have been murdered in Brazil.The majority of these crimes remain fully or partially unsolved.

At least in Australia I don’t need to explore funeral insurance because I have freedom when I blog.  If I say I was not  impressed to see P.M. Turnbull hastily acknowledging and addressing a kerb person obviously in need of cash –I am free to say so. I’ll add that it appeared to be a convenient media shot too. It actually upset me tremendously because it came across as a condescending gesture  to a poor man made by an affluent VIP in a hurry.
Point is though that I can write  that and not be arrested or detained or maybe  lost forever before reaching another Not Outer birthday.

Now talking of writing which is what I think I  do best in life – I recently  read a web article by Beth Bacon ‘11 Ways to Overcome Marketing Dread’. Many others who think that writing is the best thing they do in life could consider and  take to heart two of her pieces of advice: Consider Your Book Your Business  and  this one is best of all ‘Make It Fun’ The latter sure has worked for me!
I always remember Brecht said to say the serious through comedy.

Here’s one of my recent poems re- one of the most important issues in current discussion today:
Pass on, network but acknowledge writer please.

Regrettable   229words  Hazel Menehira.

Regrettable event... tut tut...”  screen  politician states.
“Tut tut ...Indeed regrettable.” echo his fellow peers .

“We demand some action,” marching street crowds call
“It’s time for action... action... no more rhetoric please. 
Just end prolonged detention for all these refugees.”
.
“How come Australia hasn’t fixed this stuff ? ”
bright school girl asks in class.
“A detainee sets self alight before some VIP’s, 
explain how just ‘regrettable’ is this?
will someone tell me please?”

“We stopped the boats.” class nerd boy yells
“What next were we to do?” 

Girl glares,“ Not  lock them up  for years off shore ,
So folk conveniently forget just what they came here for?”

Wise teacher intervenes, “We have a lesson here.
Problems you leave or hide away don’t simply disappear
they can compound, become complex, difficult to solve.”

Class philosopher then speaks up,
“If we recognise we blew it, it could be time to say, 
let’s set this record straight- find  new strategies today.”

“Fine.” teacher steps in. “Assignment  for  tonight.  
Each draft a letter, express your views , outline one plan or more
for changes re - detention of refugees offshore.”

Groans followed,“ Uurgh, Tuesday’s training night...
urgh, we’re  not into issues Sir--”
Head high girl glares at class then gives a swift reply
“Now listen all you stupid guys maybe it’s time you were.”


 Now the winning Tropical Writers Short Short Festival story I promised last blog.The theme was a tricky one- A zookeeper,an elephant and a love story.

Barriers.   500words.
Samuel was a zoo man extraordinaire. Ungainly and exceptionally strong, the pockets of his Brendon Heights Zoo dungarees bulged with bits of metal. Bolts, screws, nuts, nails, and a motley assortment of small tools lived on him.
As both a youngster and teen Samuel had walked the zoo beside his handy man father. He gained knowledge, practical skills and know- how by osmosis. When his aged father was rest-homed Samuel inherited the zoo position. Advice drummed into him for years was  repeated on rest home visits.
            “Samuel. You let them eddicated vets and keepers deal with them animals. It don’t mean ya don' care about chimps, lions and elephants. Cos ya do...and ya show it because ya keep em safe inside. ”
            “There’s new trainee keepers,” said Samuel.
            “Huh. Trainees come and go boy...their job is the animals ... yours is keeping the whole zoo secure... running like a new Ford. Check everything.”
 He checked and double checked enclosures, cages, locks, chains, barriers, doors, machinery, but never sacrificed time to engage with animals or staff. Calm and capable he conversed little in the staff cafeteria unless approached to fix or mend a problem.
            The day he found himself bent over the cafeteria grill his life changed direction. Across the appliance his blue eyes locked into the questioning stare of two soft brown ones, He found it hard to concentrate. Something new rippled deep inside him. He thought he would explode as he fumbled in his pockets under her gaze, but all the bits of metal in the world could not protect him. After 43 years Samuel was falling in love.
             Cafeteria empty, the small quiet woman with grey curls made him coffee.
            “Nari. I’m Nari. Thanks for fixing,” she said.
            “Oh,   Going good now.” he responded. Then after a pause.  
 “ Samuel,”  he offered departing. Resuming work he wondered all day if he should have offered his hand.
He was drawn to prolong his coffee breaks to watch her absorbed in kitchen tasks. They passed few words until he discovered Nari spent all her free time by the elephant enclosure and he began to join her there on a regular basis.
            “Samuel. I love elephants. Make me happy. ..Remind me of young days in Vietnam village before life in new country. Elephants here same as me...not free but cared for.”
Gradually Nari confided in Samuel that she was a widow living with her cousins.
            “They good people –they protect, care for me but I not free... only here at work Samuel”
He wanted to cuddle and carry her home with him. But how to express himself?
Always practical he found a perfect birthday gift for Nari and set it on her veranda.
Within hours his phone rang.
“Samuel...Samuel ...the big coloured elephant. Family very upset. He is Hindu Ganesha. God of new beginnings. My family not Hindu. They say come collect him please- put on your lawn. Oh I love you Samuel so you collect me too please.”

Thanks and blessings to you all for reading my stuff. Next time I’ll tell you some secrets about my SPIN INTO DRAMA BOOK soon to be launched.            

Tuesday 19 July 2016

82 Not Out!   dont miss this!!!Blog July 20

Yes, I know. I have been slack-but you dear readers will be pleased to know that 82 Not Out! is back on deck –and is actually another year older. Retaining the blog name because  I like the sound of it. 83 Not Out would sound a little desperate I think –not quite  ‘cricket’.
So here we go again. 
Can’t tell you how many notes and jottings I have made since last blog published. Desk and lazyboy strewn with them. Some are now past sale by date but here goes...
Best news -Elections OVER!!!!!
All I can say is it was the best reality show circus on tv ever. MY firm personal deep understanding of KARMA remains intact.- a brand new unpredictable senate has come back to bite the wag of the dog that dumped it!
Best viewing throughout the election period was watching the body language as smiles and out turned  palms turned to clenched teeth and heavy fists. Now we are back into watching condescending supercilious teacher politician mode on  screen.
Oh I must add that I am a British and N.Z. citizen so didn’t vote...so yes... I am in no position  to judge democracy in action.

TheTweets on Q and A make great viewing! Some showing wit and intelligence that beats the panel speaking, shouting, over each other.
But really-   an Inquiry into Islam?  Why not into Christianity? Hinduism? Yoruba? That is just craziness and ignorance and lack of personal inquiry and study. Read, read, read and take time to study and absorb comparative religion and history. The family tree history and branches of all religions is amazing...lots of extremists  and  wars throughout there believe me.
OK. No more today on politics or religion. It is a combination that can be stressful to bring into any discussion as people (like myself) get emotionally charged up. Example-  you should have heard me after watching fine piece of reporting by Jane Bardon  called  ‘A Big Mob in the  Houseon indigenous housing in Arnham Land –what an idictment on society  that scenario is.

Back to Stress...pets in the USA cities  are on anti-depressants...does that surprise you?  Think about  it ...We humans are so concerned about stress on pets, stress on whales, stress on crocodiles on  bears on tigers  as we plough through their environment  and  now down under one of our cities is going to install large metal ferns for trees!! So so artistic! Leave us our green please. We humans are animals too!
Thanks for reading through so far. I’m not always outspoken...I lead a laid back unsocial lifestyle writing stories  or poetry. Next blog I’ll tellyou about the Poets  on Beaches amazing workshop I tutored at the visually stunning Kewarra Beach Resort.Having won the last two short  short monthly comps for the CTWF. Go to  the Cairns Tropical Writers Festival web page. And get ready for the August festival...Oh back to the short short  stories hope you will enjoy this one. On the theme Emma and the Bagman.
 It’s called Poster Man.
Poster Man.    Tiny shorts story. 447 words.    HazelMenehira

Lean in black leather Garcia rested a studded boot on a crumbling wall beside the remote market square. A nonchalant smile quivered over the lined sensuous face beneath the black sombrero brim.
 His keen vision targeted a spindly unkempt young girl trailing behind a corpulent nun. They were threading their way through market stalls toward the mission church beyond the fountain.
Garcia watched as Sister Roza ignored the seven-year-old charge who tugged at her gown imploring that they rest on the fountain steps.
“Emmamaria we late. You rest outside mission child.”
The girl frowned and dragged her feet. She was hot, thirsty and miserable. It had been a long dusty walk from the orphanage.
Then quite unexpectedly her face and attitude changed. She had glimpsed the marionette master entertaining with his colourful dancing puppets.
“Here. Here. Please... please Sister Roza. Look how they dance. Here. I rest here. Won’t  move. Here, I stay here.”
Emmamaria glared with defiance- but in habitual cunning fashion crossed herself demurely. Also hot and thirsty Sister Roza was exasperated. Eager to arrive on time for her business meeting she capitulated with a strong stare.
          “Not an inch. You hear me. Not an inch girl.”
Then she waddled off.
A skilful  modern bandito Garcia had no problem befriending Emmamaria. He loved little girls and also marionette shows. It was a breeze for him to lure, and abduct her.Life-experienced in important bandito matters - robberies, drug running, hostages-  he  also stole her favourite puppet.
          A delighted Emmamaria filled with tacos, oranges and soda pop was ensconced in the passenger seat of Garcia’s sleek but rusty black Cadillac. She dozed, sang or chatted happily for hours as they sped across the border.
          “I’m Emmamaria.  Emma for short. Who you?”
          “Me? Garcia Del Fiamenderamonez. Most wanted bandito poster man on planet,” he quipped. 
          “Long name,” said Emma.
          “Call me Bag man.”
          “Funny name too... well... where we go Bag man?”
          “Here,” he answered as they pulled into a city car park behind a flash tourist hotel. “My woman. She work here. Her name  Emma too.”
          “Yeah?”
          “Yeah.... She cleans, changes beds, handles laundry in basement. She cross border to city years ago. I do truck driver work then. I pick up laundry bags at backdoor. We talk. She tell me ’bout you. She first to call me Bag man. I take you back to your mother.”


THE END –next Blog some poems and another story.Blessings to you all Hzl
Oh Big news...just published my 16th book Spin Into Drama 

Saturday 30 January 2016


THAT TIME OF THE YEAR   and REMARKABLE   based on writing exercise TW Jan30 2016 397 words.

Great –school holidays, all the tribe away having their own holiday experience. Few visitors, few business commitments, few packed mall visits, For this 82 Not Outer it is time for reflection, reading, writing, watching favourite movies once again.

Whatever our age school holidays impact on the regular rhythm of lives. How that impact changes throughout our years. I’ve been reflecting on the phases I have experienced myself.

Before 1946 my British junior school holidays were muddy and weary ones. They were full of potato picking. 1 have cloudy memories of trundling along behind a tractor for the war effort and long hours of tedious rose hip picking for the syrup to keep us healthy

Teen years brought more exciting school holidays .Certainly more amorous. Each time I was sent to stay with relatives I fell rapturously in love. The strange boy next door to my Grandparents...the strong handsome Welsh farm boy on the top of his hay cart (he became a preacher by the way ) and topping them all my first underground war hero Yves Gouyet in the  Channel Islands. Of course he has a chapter in my memoir.

Recapping on the lengthy decades of school holidays as a mother of four it is all a mish-mash of never ending planning, BUDGETING, preparing and actioning camping trips, Folk club and New Age festivals...soccer and surfing events...ballet, drama and fishing competitions huis and other Maori celebrations. Even exchanging houses was squeezed into a chaotic often dysfunctional lifestyle. That proved disastrous when tools my boys had appropriated from the garage had to be mailed back to owners. What sort of mother did they have anyway?? The sort searching the neighbourhood ..you know her the hippy one who often set off without all the kids in the packed up car!!

Thanks to professional work lifestyle budgeting and planning eased in my Grandmother school holiday phase and it became a mission to accompany grandchildren to explore new pastures and adventures. Often it was large groups of exchange students like my Rainbow Theatre and White Rock school drama students-but that’s in my memoir too.

Now as a great grandmother I’m back at my opening paragraph...and it is time to relax with a cup of tea to select today’s favourite DVD. Oh my goodness school hols are over and there goes the phone.Twice a;ready.Dammit!  JUst when I wanted to write this amazing story. Do read on!!!!!!!!!!!!!

82 Not Out!                                                                614 words.Hazel Menehira.

REMARKABLE  

Yes, this is an extraordinary story about a remarkable man.
That I am writing this today is also remarkable.
Let me explain.

During the recent Christmas –New Year festive and holiday season I had plenty of time to write and think. Updating a series of text books kept my concrete mind on track –but that creative writing spark remained alive. Without effort I reflected on amazing people who had threaded the rich tapestry of my life.

Somewhere I read that even one brief meaningful meeting with a person may be life changing or unforgettable. At the beginning of this month one such 20 minute meeting in 1987 came clearly into view and I recalled always wanting to write about this man. A name continued to resonant. It would not leave me alone.  Life often moves us on too swiftly to follow up such writing urges when they occur. I had never made any further contact with him in the 80’s or 90’s or since but the name John Trudell kept dinging away in my mind during recent December and this month. At last I typed in his name and discovered that he had ‘walked on’ a few weeks earlier on December 8 2015. He must have been nudging me from some distant plane to finally write something.
John Trudell.  It is not a name that all readers will be familiar with. You will know it after reading this. Maybe it will ring a bell when I tell you that this Santee Dakota poet was one of the Native American students activists involved in the occupation of Alcatraz Island. November 20, 1969 to June 11, 1970.This amazing occupation eventuated in a manifesto We Hold the Rock, and book, Alcatraz is Not an Island.It led to the American Indiian Movement in Minneapolis.
For me personally his name is synonymous with the courage in action that was all part of the spiritual and metaphysical renaissance that established the New Age.
John Trudell devoted his life and talent  to indigenous human rights-but that is not all the full breadth of his story as I discovered, when as  naive Kiwi I walked head on into the first two day April 1987  New Age Expo in Santa Barbara. Whale songs were playing, crystals galore glittered and a galaxy of stalls for meditation, health and healing, provided invitations and workshops galore to open the heart mind and soul.
It was heady stuff. Unusual chanting sounds led me toward a stall where I purchased an audio tape of spoken poetry. It is called Tribal Voice and  it is the first John Trudell/ tape released in 1983 on his own Peace Company label. It is his poetry set to traditional Native American music The previous year he had released the chap book Living in Reality

Trudell’s passion for the oral tradition of indigenous people struck a chord with me instantly. My strong affiliation with Maori and a keen awareness of the movement for recognition of Te Reo  (Maori language)–setting up of Kohanga Reo (learning pre-school nests and later full Maori language schools) - plus the challenge of fulfilling land rights as written in the Treaty of Waitangi were all dear to my heart. 

Now for the big heart breaking story I learned that day.
I recall the tears in my eyes when I learned that John’s pregnant wife Tina, their three children and their grandmother died in a suspicious fire February 1979 in Nevada. Within 24 hours of this tragedy John Trudell burned an American flag on the steps of the Washington FBI building.

What a story and what a truly remarkable man. I am proud to have honoured him by writing this.  Read more about John Trudell  - actor,poet,activist.