Through my Eyes

Come cast your minds back if you will,
To the early years of Mick and Lil,
Through joy and heartache, sweat and tears,
Let's recall the memories of a hundred years.

Of a city lad, a clerk no less,
Who upped his stakes and headed bush,
To Central Queensland and the valley wide,
Who viewed it all through a new chum's eyes.

What a challenge he took to select the block,
Not a cleared acre, not a head of stock.
Just brigalow scrub and wallabies thick.
Hell, Michael was an optimist!

Portion 25, ... "Ashgrove" named,
Where prickly pear grew quite untamed.
Where water was scarce but not the flies,
Became home sweet home to Grandad's eyes.

1915 and the call to war,
There were deeper wounds than the scars he bore,
For you cannot imagine the brutal truth,
Unless you've trudged in a soldier's boots.

Enter Lily to the old bush hut,
A woman's touch could do so much,
To a pioneer shack with the kitchen outside,
A promising start for the fresh faced bride.

1924 the train chugged through,
The district then became Jooro,
My dad was born at that same time,
When they opened the Callide Valley line.

And the children came in a steady stream,
To boost the numbers of the milking team.
Each one of age had a bale alotted,
And they felled the scrub to plant some cotton.

Through the Depression, those anxious days,
When wretched men might waltz their way,
Grateful for a meal or two,
But things were lean then at Jooro.

And for a school land was donated,
To see the children educated.
With teachers boarding, I have to smile,
To imagine the family through the teacher's eyes!

Sons all growing up strong and tall,
Were not a comfort with a looming war,
Signing up and the fearful goodbyes,
Tears no doubt in the family's eyes.

God spared their boys and home they came,
A joyous day but still the same,
Dark days approached who could have known.
How greatly things would change at home.

Faith and trust were sorely tried,
When shortly after, young John died,
And Mary simply wrote "Pat cried",
And I feel the pain through my father's eyes.

What hope and promise in weddings and children,
Sadly though, the joy was shortened,
When Bill's young life was also taken,
How must their lives and faith been shaken.

But God is gracious and upholds
The broken hearted and we know,
That while these shadows came their way,
God granted strength to endure and stay.

Time the great healer ticked along,
And soon the girls had also gone,
To pursue their nursing and religious lives
Seeing a new world through sheltered eyes.

How Grandma must have missed them so,
But in-laws and children helped ease the blow.
Still I can't imagine what pain was known.
Aware that Julia would never again see home.

So by ' 62 when I was born,
The hundred years were half way gone,
My golden childhood, I can't deny,
That I viewed the world through rosy eyes.

With Grandma and Grandad over the road,
Cousins galore, and a safe abode,
With mum and dad and our own large crew.
To me paradise was right there at Jooro.

These were the happy golden years,
Of childish play and memories dear,
Of school and church and family ties,
When rarely a sorrow crossed my eyes.

I remember droughts and floods and storms
The days when Paul and Greg were born,
The day we learned that Helen had died...
Then the sad acceptance in my mother's eyes.

There was boarding school for us kids to face.
And life away from the safe home base,
Then early 80's saw the end of Mick and Lily's lives,
The end of an era in the mourners eyes.

The shadow of death soon touched us again,
When Les and Tina felt the pain,
So young and shining, Michael died,
And grief stared out through their stricken eyes.

Faith and hope always prevail,
A family survives through every trial,
The legacy they all have left behind,
Is one of pride, and characters fine.

Now Les is gone and Frank has too.
A new generation at Jooro,
And we barefoot kids who rollicked and roamed,
Have kids and grandkids of our own.

And some have visited distant parts,
As we dreamt long ago with our 'venturous hearts,
And we've shared the joys but also tears,
As we've travelled across this hundred years.

So if Mick and Lily still were here
I wonder what advice they'd share?
Never to judge or criticize,
Till you've viewed the world through another's eyes.?

Future generations are blessed so much,
With this heritage of pioneering stock
And in some future distant year
The locals will say, "The Clairs lived here."