Garry Sonny Martin

My name’s Garry Martin, but most people know me as Sonny.

Welcome to my Blog! I will be updating this page with new stories from time to time. 

I write stories about my childhood growing up in western Queensland to show the next generations what it was like growing up as a Blackfulla in the 1950s and 1960s.

I write these stories with the help of my daughter, Angie Faye Martin, to preserve memories of the past for future generations. Above all, I hope my granddaughters – Lailah and Ruby – find joy and meaningful connections in these stories.

I started documenting my childhood when I was in Oakey with my brother, Owen (Poe), and my mother, Zona Martin née Leslie. It was a quiet and nostalgic time for me – I finally felt time and space to really reflect on the past. My daughter was calling frequently from Melbourne during the Covid lockdowns and wanting information about the past for her debut novel, Melaleuca. She was particularly interested in stories from the yumba and how life was back then.

I hope you enjoy these yarns, have a laugh and remember our loved ones. There’ll be more coming soon!

Saying Goodbye to Granny

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Ray and I called in to see Granny on our way to work on Bullo Downs, a cattle property near Thargomindah. She was living uptown in Charleville, with her daughter, Aunty Doris. We didn’t stay too long with her as we wanted to make it through to Cunnamulla, where we would overnight with Auntie Katie Mitchell, Granny’s sister-in-law.

I knew Granny was still smoking, so I brought her a tin of her favourite tobacco, Log Cabin, and I gave her five dollars to buy something for herself. If I could capture that moment in time, I would store it away in a bottle and keep it forever!

She looked up at me with such enormous gratitude on her face and she gave me the most beautiful heart-warming smile you could imagine. The only thing I could do was take her hands in mine and give her a gentle kiss on her forehead.

As I was driving down to Cunnamulla that afternoon, I was thinking of Granny and the five dollar bill I had given her, realising she most likely wouldn’t know its true value as I recalled how scared she was when pounds, shillings and pence were changed over to dollars and cents. I smiled happily to myself. I didn’t know then, but that would be the very last time I would ever see or hold my beautiful Granny.