Saturday night was much welcomed by the older folk as it gave them an opportunity to get dressed up, kick up their heels, let their hair down and have some good old-fashioned fun. Gypsy tap, fox trot and Bride of Erins were just a few of the old time waltzes they’d slow dance to. Every now and then the old band would jazz it up a little bit and play something fast and that’s when everyone would break into the twist or a jive. There was no Ginger Rogers or Fred Astaires amongst us, but gee we had some fun. Never mind the ritzy bars of celebrity, glamour and fashion around London, Paris and New York – we had it all, right there in the dance hall of Cooladdi. Elegantly dressed in high heel stilettos, bright red lipstick and some of the most beautiful and attractive looking women you could imagine and none more so than Bobby and Violet – my two sisters. And men in swallow tail suits with their pointy-toe shoes and red socks, equally handsome as their female companions.
Supper would be prepared and served around nine o’clock and greatly appreciated by everyone because with all the dancing and chitter chatting going on appetites needed replenishing to continue late into the night.
Bobby and Violet had their fair share of admirers whilst living at Cooladdi. They were very attractive young ladies: not bad sorts you might say.
They’d be inside the house twisting and shaking themselves like Motown girls and listening to the Beatles or the Rolling Stones on the old windup grammar phone and no doubt fully aware of the boys outside dying for a bit of their attention.
Johnny Doyle and Desmond Anderson were the main actors, as they’d come around most nights of the week and perch themselves on the stack of railway sleepers just outside our house, hoping for a glimpse of the girls inside.
Their push bikes were attached with lights and horns and all sorts of coloured streamers poking out of the handlebars which looked very truckie like and of course they were splendidly dressed.
Brylcreem in their hair slicked back like a James Dean or Elvis Presley, tight fitting denim jeans and studded belts and then the pointy toed shoes and red socks a perfect match for any young female.
I don’t recall if any canoodling ever took place between the parties and if there was I’m sure it would have been well after I fell asleep and most certainly after Mum and Dad went to bed.
Carmel was the most active, energetic and organised person I have ever seen – the amount of work she did would make me tired thinking about it. A very accomplished and determined sportswoman, Carmel has always been the first to organise family events. A great legal mind, her first job was with the Aboriginal Legal Service in Brisbane and Secretary to former State Premier, Wayne Goss. She was the baby of the family when we first moved to Cooladdi and it was there, she would first attend school.
The school in Cooladdi was built up high on stilts and underneath was where we would do our folk dancing and other activities if it was raining. We were all there on this one day, dancing to the music being played on the gramophone when I noticed Carmel out of the corner of my eye. She was making her way back to the seats against the wall and she looked rather upset about something.
She was such an adorable child, so sweet and innocent, a child who you could instantly fall in love with. It hurts me to see her now, so slow in her movements and when I look into her eyes it feels to me like she is apologetic for her illness. She has multiple sclerosis. Our teacher at the time was a very kind and gentle person and when he saw Carmel seated alone he would say to her, something like ‘Carmel, are you okay dear, would you like to join in with the rest of us?’
It was so heartbreakingly sad when this sweet little child would answer her teacher in the most angelic little voice saying, ‘Please sir, my pants keep falling down and I don’t want to dance.’ I think it was either Bobby or Niecy who ran to her aid and decided to take her home and change.
Even today as I think back on that terrible moment and seeing my baby sister sitting there trying to explain to her teacher why she couldn’t join in still makes me feel sad.
Nobody should ever have to experience anything so embarrassing as what happened that day and I pray it never does again. Nowadays my dear sister spends most of her time cooking and playing the pokies down at the local RSL in Oakey. God bless her.
Garry Sonny Martin 