2 Texans Down Under

I’ll be darn. I’ve been tagged. On line, I’ve been tagged.

The tagger is a good friend of mine who writes as “Granny,” thereby reminding us all that many young and vibrant people, these days, have grandchildren.

The “tag” she gave me is called the “Nearest Book Meme,” and there’s a drill that goes with it. Please read these instructions in case you’re one of the five I chose at the end. And, even if you’re not, feel free to consider yourself tagged by me, anyway, and proceed. (Sorry, Granny, if this violates any rules.)

Instructions:
1. Grab the nearest book that is at least 123 pages long.
2. Open to page 123.
3. Go down to the 5th sentence.
4. Type in the 3 sentences immediately after that 5th sentence.
5. Tag five people by sending them the three sentences and these instructions.

I took “nearest” to mean “the one I’m currently reading” since, technically, the nearest is my “Oxford Pocket Australian Dictionary,” a useful book indeed, but one that’s a little short on plot.

What I’m reading is a thin volume from the Australian Literary Heritage Series entitled Humorous Stories of Henry Lawson. Born in 1867, Lawson wrote about the outback and “bush people” in ways that can, today, jar those of us who prefer to avoid stereotyping others.

Nevertheless, this collection contains the funniest short story I have ever read, “The Loaded Dog,” and it makes me laugh every time I read it.

Somewhat less funny are the three sentences following the fifth one on page 123, but, appropriately enough, the story in which those sentences appear is about an American, “a cute Yankee.”

I’m sure Lawson didn’t mean “cute” in any positive sense, or, for that matter, “Yankee,” either. One has to be careful, here, about taking things at face value.

When anyone wrote or spoke about a “new chum” in those days, for example, they were not referring to a recently-found friend. The dictionary I just mentioned gives as the first meaning of that label (not, by the way, on page 123): “convict newly arrived in Australia.” The other definitions boil down to “greenhorn to be taken advantage of.”

Page 123 in the Lawson book of stories is near the end of one called “The Darling River,” which is, in fact, a real river that people admire, but the name is not a term of endearment.

Sentence six on page 123 comes after the cute Yankee has been invited to check out the Darling with an eye to putting a dam across it.

”Is this your river?” he asked.

”Yes,” they replied, apprehensively.

He tilted his hat forward till the brim nearly touched his nose, scratched the back of his long neck, shut one eye, and looked at the river with the other. Then, after spitting half a pint of tobacco juice into the stream, he turned sadly on his heel and led the way back to the pub.

Okay, that was four sentences, not three, but I thought you needed the last one to get the flavor of the piece. In case you can’t find this story in print and you’re wondering how this turns out, well, the cute Yankee decides against the project because Australians have too little energy: “You’ve got the makings of a great nation over here, but don’t get up early enough.”

The last three sentences of the story (a bonus extra, not a part of the meme) are about a Darling river project done earlier by native Australians:

They threw a dam of rocks across the river — near Brewarrina, we think — to make a fish-trap. It’s there yet. But God only knows where they got the stones from, or how they carried them, for there isn’t a pebble within forty miles.

Take that, cute Yankees!

So, tag time. I tag:

1. an excellent professional photographer of buildings and spaces in Australia, Peter;
2. an excellent therapist in Vermont, USA, Betty;
3. an excellent writer and friend in Massachusetts, Dorothy;
4. an excellent environmentalist/counselor/workshop leader in Texas, Liza;
5. and an excellent psychiatrist for children and adults in Massachusetts, Jack.

And you, if you want to play. — Bob