MY WESTERN HERBS

Oregano, also know as wild marjoram. These I grew from cuttings. In fact, I have found this herb the easiest to handle so far, and they are very healthy. Don't know how to use it culinarily though.

French tarragon is the latest addition to my herb garden. I bought these and after a few weeks of transplanting the plants, although healthy, they still don't seem to stand up as straight as other tarragon I have seen. The larger leaves at the bottom left corner of the picture are rocket.

These rosemary I buy, have not yet managed to propagate them. A few times they wilted due to aphids but this batch has managed to overcome the aphids and had a surge of growth so I think they will prevail and hopefully we will get to see them eventually flower. Rosemary and chives are the herbs that my hubby uses most - lamb dishes.

This is a new plant so it still looks nice and fresh. I bought it at the supermarket and just transplanted 2 days before this pic. Usually for sweet basil, we get about 6 months use out of it although after a while it gets woody and does not look so nice. When its time to change the plant, the old woody ones go to the herb hospital outside my room patio. We use this a lot chopped up with garlic and butter for garlic bread. Also for mixed herb pasta (with lemon zest).

Thyme. I bought this too although I have successfully rooted a few roots from cuttings from the supermarket. That takes so long and there is a high casualty rate though. These were grown in Seremban for export, I wonder to where? Last week we deep fried some thyme and basil leaves to put atop burgers.

This English parsley I bought although have managed to propagate some from seeds before. The seeds are readily available here. One thing I have learnt about herbs, it takes a very long time to sprout them, unlike veges. My English parsley tends to get a little yellow here and there and I have not yet managed to figure out why.

Dill seed is also available readily here. They get too tall though. This one has just been earthed up a little. Since taking this pic, we have staked this plant to give it more support. We don't get much use out of dill much (don't think we ever cooked anything with it) but only for garnishing 'cause it looks nice and lacy.

This plant I bought. My hubby chops this up, mixes it with mayonaise and wasabi as a dip for fried tempura prawns. I have tried sprouting from seed, no luck. Also I have never seen the beautiful pink fluffy ball flowers form on the chives even if I leave it untouched for months.

Basil minette. This one I seeded myself. My Mum got me the seeds. It takes a very long time to get to even an 8 inch plant but it lasts a long time. My sis-in-law took some to put in Chinese soup noodles though I have not tried it that way myself.

I've tried seeding this, no success yet. After transplanting it seemed weak but seems to be strengthening up now.

This Italian parsley I bought. It lasts about 5 to 6 months and is very useful especially fresh as a garnish with Chinese dishes. It tastes a bit like Chinese coriander so its nice on the side with meat dishes or even atop creamy pastas. I have managed to seed some of my own but the plants are not yet ready for transplanting.

This sage I got from cuttings. It is right next to the wall so it gets the least hot sun. The cuttings need to be shaded for about 2 weeks to stabilize and I find the cuttings planted on the inner side of the plot survive best and cuttings just a foot away with a little more sun die off. When the plant grows however, it is okay in the sun. We used this last week for English onion soup.

Mint is easy to grow. I just got a bunch of mint from the market, put in in water for about 7 to 10 days to root and then plant out. Mint is invasive so now I've got it in a pot not in my herb plots. This one I just transplanted again last week as it was getting old. This pot is now in my herb hospital recuperating.

Rocket, the only non-herb in my herb plots. My sister in Holland got me the seeds. This plant I have left in the ground for more than 5 months but it still has not gone to seed. I am trying to see if I can get my own seed. Because the plant is old, the leaves are super super bitter. On occasion I will pull a leaf off and munch. Just one leaf is enough to freshen me up! Rocket is a cut-and-come-again plant, which means you can cut some and it will re-grow.

Lemon Thyme; very pretty.

My Mum got me lavendar seeds in Melbourne (came with the purple pot too). This is my second attempt to sprout lavendar. I know there are some being grown in Seremban also for export and a few plants will be available for sale here in a few months so I hope my personal banker is not reading this stuff . . . The seeds my Mum bought are English dwarf lavendar which has purple flowers but the ones that will be on sale will apparently have silverish flowers. The saga continues . . .

My herb hospital.

ROSES IN DECEMBER

"God gave us memories
so that we might have
roses in December"

- Sir James E. Barrie -






Picture : Banquet at Bangsar Village; Taken by Robyn Oct '08.

FUTURE REMINISCING

It is good
To have a past
That is pleasant
To reflect upon
Take care
To create
Such a gift
For your future

Dec 25, 2000
Matthew Joseph Thaddeus Stepanek
1990 - 2004

Picture : To town for the day. Taken by May Fook circa 2004, Kuala Lumpur.

CALVIN'S THOUGHT OF THE DAY

THE CALL OF NATURE

Sometimes we need to rest a while, when we have lost our way
To find ourselves enthralled within a deep sun-sweetened day
Draw a curtain on our barren days, a cavern look to find
So on a journey we can go, grist for life's soul mill to grind

To forests ferny floors we go, a healing stream flows by
Releasing the silt of days and years, touching the well-spring of life
Be innocent of guile, have an unclouded brow, "mea culpa" be willing to say
Find peace that the world nor gives, nor the world can take away

The western sun gleams rich and red, the fields wear a scarlet gown
Lone travelers we are, traversing, a quiet road, a quiet church, a quiet town
Enjoy life's little moments, kneel deep within our souls
Listen long, do you hear what I see? A mountain, an icicle, a candles glow

All these places are my own, a season of mellow fruitfulness
In the eagerness of hope, a note of joy, a nourishing and abiding consciousness
Breathe in when the wind is high and strong, embrace the wildest of weather
Step out beneath the driving rain, get drenched in its splendour and wonder

Nature with its pencil, draws and designs, the hills, the plains and isles
The woods, the glens, the cliffs, the fens, trees slender tops against the sky
A cow, a barn, the wheat, the hay, each bush, scrub, sprig, bud and bee
A crag, a peak, a lake, a creek, a snowflake in its grand filigree

There is a hushed beauty that endures, when in natures embrace we rest
A certain self mastery from within us, a hint or two of zest
So we set our hearts in motion, let our faith arise, its spring!
Listen long for a song of the earth, we may just hear the angels sing.

Robyn Toh
29th May 2008


Pic : A view of my Grandmothers mountain and bluff in Brooloo, Queensland. In the foreground, a lemon tree.

THE SAILOR

A sailor on life's journey, a pilgrim on the seas
A wild ocean lies before me, now and then a touch of breeze
Boist'rous waves push here and there, hiding rocks on treacherous shoal
There are no words left for me to speak, unknown waves before me roll

The tide rises, the tide falls, fearful breakers roar
My life of idle words, and vain, I'm shaken to the core
My arm of flesh has failed me, black shadows stain my soul
All my crowns lie in the dust, my anchor will not hold

I feel like a ship without a sail, a buoy without a bearing
Calamities of heart and mind, my burdens are a pressing
My heart grows sick at havoc wrought, hunted like a deer
Suspended in the frigid air, nameless dread and fear

Then one fine day I said to myself, stop this tomfoolery
There is One who can pilot me over, life's tempestuous seas
Chart and compass comes from Him, He makes a steady keel
The Rock of Ages from before time, to the waves He says "Be Still!"

And so returns the sailor to the shore, my soul is vexed no more
So picturesque this starry night, my heart begins to soar
For in God's ocean portrait grand, till time and times are done
He is and always will remain, The Way, The Truth, The One

Robyn Toh
29th May 2008


Pic : Admiral Cove Marina, Malacca 2007. Taken by Robyn.

VIVA!

Are you buckling under strain, are you mothballed by fear
Are you stuck in your past, and can't seem to think clear

Do the days seem too long, are you lonely beyond telling?
Do you think that you are a sorry excuse for living

Are you a prisoner and puppet, to your emotional strings
Do you feel pushed around and can't stretch your wings

Is the remoteness just awful, the stillness intense
Bad breaks happen to you, and yes, it does not make sense

Do not mourn what you've lost, and what you cannot find
Do not brood in the gloom, cut the fetters from your mind

Change is part of the struggle with the coward inside
Its time to bring an end to this time that you've cried

You've had your time on the edge, now its time to come home
A joint venture with yourself, a coming into your own

Leave your battered past behind you, talk no more of ill
Look at the beauty of the sun, as it illuminates the window sill

Reorient your thinking, enlarging your soul
Strangely but surely new life will take hold

A life that is more, abundant and free
Have your eye on the woods that lie beyond the trees

Grow yourself a new tale, of a deep abiding love
And do not hesitate to call on dear God up above

Stay deliberately grateful, count your blessings one by one
Look far and wide like a weather-cock, shining in the sun

Set a high value on yourself, your raison d 'etre to be
You have still your life expanse, enjoy your sweet company

You'll find again life's fascination, it will help you to be strong
The glistening of the morning dew, a distant bird in song

Learn of every butterfly its strength, as it flits overhead
Learn even from red rose, growing in the flower bed

Tis harvest time throughout, peace descends upon the land
VIVA! We stand. A new season is at hand!

Robyn Toh
30th May 2008


Pic : Carcosa Seri Negara taken by Robyn, 2007; A lovely place to spend time with yourself.

WEATHER

Whether the weather be fine
Or whether the weather be not
Whether the weather be cold
Or whether the weather be hot
We'll weather the weather
Whatever the weather
Whether we like it or not!

Anon
Smiths Countryside Treasury



Pic : Light through our frangipani; Taken by May Fook, 2007.

WHY YOU WOULD PREFER DAUGHTERS.

A few pictorial reasons why you may rather have daughters than sons . . . . . . . . and a few more pictorial reasons why you should think twice before allowing your son access to your camera equipment . . . . .







All above are self potraits by Leon.

MY SHADOW

I have a little shadow, that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me when I jump into my bed.

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow -
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
But he sometimes shoots up taller, like an Indian rubber ball,
And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all.

He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
He stands so close beside me, he's a coward you can see;
I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!

One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.


Robert Louis Stevenson
(The Child's Book Of Verse)


Pic : Ryan, my current shadow; In Malacca Nov 2007.

READING

My Little ABC book.

Reading in the walk-in-wardrobe.

A revolutionary way of reading.
Richard Scarry is a genius!

Heh heh, a rotan (cane) to "help" with reading Chinese characters!

With Grandma reading on the swing.

Opening the birthday gift Auntie Mae sent Toni from Amazon.com!

Our Christmas presents from Auntie Sook Pin.

In Club Med, Cherating, before Ryan was born.

Reading to Amah.

Now Ryan, read this part to me.

All the menfolk sleeping while Toni reads.

This is the life, eh.

Another day, another book.

Thomas The Tank Engine.

Reading a Thomas book within our train set!

Little books everywhere.

Toni reading with Bruni on her lap.

Our in-house reading machine.

Ryan reading on his little bed.

This Richard Scarry book is nice, heh Leon.

What a funny book this is.

The true university these days is a collection of books; Albert Camus.

How many a man has dated a new era in his life from the reading of a book; Henry Thoreao 1817-1862.

Reading makes immigrants of us all - it takes us away from home, but more importantly, it finds homes for us everywhere; Hazel Rochman.

GRAEME HAROLD USHER

As I pen this eulogy, I am sitting in my car looking out on this vast old Chinese cemetery in the heart of Kuala Lumpur. The many graves on the hilly slopes sit quietly resting as they have been doing for decades and decades. Many of the earliest Chinese settlers in Kuala Lumpur that used to work the tin mines have found the end to their life journey here. Amongst the influential patriarchs of the city buried here are Yap Ah Loy, Ling Lian Yu and many others. There is also a memorial there for the Nanyang Voluntary Corps, volunteers from Malaya and Singapore who in WW2 built the supply line from Burma to Chongqing. This Volunteer Corps was led by the businessman, philantrophist and de facto leader of the Chinese community in Singapore Tan Kah Kee, who incidentally is the Great-Grandfather of my Singaporean brother-in-law Poh Deh Tong. Tan Kah Kee was the founder of Jimei Schools (now Jimei University) in Fujian China, The Chinese High School (now Hwa Chong Institution) in Singapore and also Xiamen University, one of the most prestigious and selective universities in China.

No, I am not here to meander through a soul seeking journey. More on a practical note, I am here waiting to pick up my kids from their new school which is about a 1 km walk from where I am parked. It is exactly an hour before school winds up for the day; and no, I am not a sadist wanting to walk so far to the school gates. Its just that so many dedicated parents have got here before me and this is the closest spot I could find. Just in case this deplorable pick-up-from-school situation gives Kuala Lumpur a bad name, let me just say its a new school, Chinese parents are crazy and the school authorities are trying their level best to sort out a smoother and workable traffic flow. Undoubtedly, next week I will not be sitting here this early.

But to the point of this blog entry; a man named Graeme Harold Usher. My uncle, my mothers eldest brother, born 15th May 1939. He was buried 2 weeks ago on the 29th of Dec 2007 in Baradine, New South Wales at the age of 68. I did not know my Uncle Graeme all that well, living in different continents and all, but what I did know had a deep richness about it. It is not often that a life of another leaves you with that richness and it is a wonderful thing when that can happen.

Graeme was named Harold in memory of his Uncle Pat. In fact he did not know this until very much later in life, perhaps no one thought to tell him. He did not know the man he had heard of by what turns out as a nickname 'Pat' was actually Richard Harold Usher. Pat died at a young age of 20 after being kicked in the head in a football accident. I was told that many of both Catholics and Protestants attended the funeral of this young lad. During those early years the community was very much divided along these religious lines but the tragic death at such a young age of Richard Harold brought the community together. My Great-Grandfather Michael Usher and my Great-Grandmother Belinda Agnes Ross had 7 children; Edna, Richard Harold (Pat), Vivian John(known as Uncle Viv; he went to war in New Guinea), Nada, Marion Isabel, my Grandfather Leonard William (known as Len) and Beryl Agnes. At present, they have all passed on except Aunty Nada who still lives in the Sundale Retirement Village in Nambour, Queensland. She and a good friend Rene moved there after both their husbands died many years ago even before my parents were married in 1965. Both Nada and Rene were childless. Nada would have just celebrated her 101st birthday this past 26th Dec 2007.

I would safely say that my Uncle Graeme was one of the most intelligent persons I have ever met. Naturally, he was well read and had a great understanding on the pulse of what was going on around him, in his country and in the world. When I last met him, Australia was heading to its general elections and Graeme was reading 'Kevin Rudd, The Biography'. He was a cantankerous old fella, but is one of the only 3 people I know who have what I term "a twinkle in their eyes". He was born with a condition called pyloric stenosis and had to be operated on when he was just 8 days old - in 1939! This is a condition where there is a blockage from the stomach leading to the intestines. It occurs more often in boys, is often hereditary and occurs more often in firstborns. He went from a birth weight of 8 1/2 lbs to 5 lbs on the day of his operation. When he was 5, he contracted meningitis, and when he was 11, polio. This meant a 1 year stay in Brisbane General Hospital 100km away where he was put on an "iron lung". His mother, my Grandmother Iris, could only visit him once a month.

I have always known him to walk with a profound limp, a result of the polio. He had to wear surgical shoes or none at all, so often he used to go barefoot like so many young Aussies do these days. Going barefoot would give him greater security in terms of the contact of his feet on the ground. Once while having lunch with my Mum in Mooroochydore, a waiter came over with a complaint from a patron about that restaurant being the type of establishment where one had to wear shoes. Graeme's reply "I have 2 options, go barefoot or put on my surgical shoes" drew many an apology from the poor waiter. Imagine a lifetime not being able to wear slippers!

Graeme was what you would call a lab technician. He and his wife Dr. Weisia Wielebinski (her actual name is Wieslawa Wielebinski) owned and operated a pathology lab in Lane Cove and had another lab in partnership with some others in Paramatta, Sydney. My Aunt, another wonderful character herself, was born in Poland. Her family had been sent to a workers concentration camp in Germany before being offered a passage to Australia in the post-Nazi era. They had actually earlier been offered a place in Argentina, but when they went to get their visas, they found that their places had been 'hijacked' by those with connections in high up places - this is another story in itself. Anyway, for some years my Aunt was Director of Pathology at what used to be St Margaret's Hospital in Sydney. She used to get up just after 4 in the morning, spend some time looking through a microscope and assessing results before heading off to the lab in Paramatta to assess and sign test results, then to their Lane Cove practice to do the same thing, then to the hospital.

Graeme and Weisia had 4 kids - Michael, Anna, Kathryn and Christopher. They all love animals and it is no wonder my cousin Anna is now a vet. I remember on one of my stays in their Lane Cove home overhearing my Aunt say to her kids "We'd better get those snakes out of the bathtub before Grandma comes down from Queensland next week" in a cool very matter of fact kind of tone that so typifies her. It was in the backyard of this house that my siblings and I had a whale of a time on the first trampoline we had seen. Incidentally, it was also at this Lane Cove home that in 1986 my Mum smashed her heel and resulted in her not being able to walk without crutches for 8 months. My Mum had dropped me off in St. Peters in Brisbane to begin my Year 12 and had proceeded down to Sydney to visit Graeme and Weisia. As 3 nights a week my Aunt had Directors meetings at the hospital and only be back by 8:30 or 9:00pm, my Mum had wanted to cook some fried rice so Weisia could eat with them at home instead of going out. She opened what she thought was the pantry door, but the door opened into 'nothing' (there were steep steps there) and she fell feet first onto the cellar floor - but that too is another story in itself.

When Uncle Graeme was 4, my Grandmother Iris used to take him to the rail motor station in Brooloo (Brooloo no longer has a station) where the family farm was. She would pass him to Mr. Mills, the rail driver, who would look after him and pass him to his (Graeme) Grandma Helen Wilbraham at the Nashville Station in Gympie. No doubt the little 4 year old boy would have sat on Mr. Mills lap driving the rail motor (nowadays known as the Mary Valley Rattler - a tourist train). My mother Helen Isabel was named after this Grandma Helen Wilbraham who was named after her Grandmother, Helen Ellen.

I get the feeling that Uncle Graeme loved the land. There is talk that he did not get much support in that regard from his own father who deemed him 'unsuitable' to work the land because of his bad leg. As soon as Graeme retired, he sold his Swansea property for about AUD1 million and with the proceeds purchased a total of 4500 acres in Baradine. On reflection, my Grandfathers Brooloo property of 650 acres seemed small in comparison.

Baradine is about 500 km from Sydney, a 6 - 7 hour drive. When I asked him why he bought land so far from Sydney, his reply was "It was what I could afford". In the same conversation he told me "I am the laziest person on earth". He also said "I needed to buy the property to keep me out of mischief!". Well, this lazy mischievous person loved his property and despite his physical difficulties got the place organized and at the time I spoke to him 4 months before his death, was running 600 head of cattle (mixed composite / hybrid) on the land, had 11 paddocks and 20 dams. He had 1400 acres with share farming crop (mostly wheat) which would have been able to give him another 4 paddocks. The border of his property ran at 27km. He did all this on his own while my Aunt, one of those workaholic type people, at the age of 67 became a civil servant. She is now the senior pathologist in the whole of northern New South Wales and is based in Tamworth, a 2 hour drive from Baradine. This meant she could go to Baradine at weekends and Graeme could visit her during the work week. When Weisia thought she would apply for this job in Tamworth, it was Graeme who suggested to just go see the Doctor doing the hiring first. At his urging, she did. As it turned out this Doctor upon receiving her said that in his younger days, it was while attending one of her lectures in St Margaret's that he decided to go down the pathology line of medicine. Not surprisingly she got the job!

About 18 months ago, Uncle Graeme found out that he had cancer of the oesophagus - as if he needed more medical issues to deal with. I think he suffered greatly under the treatments but as much as he could, would have tried to have that twinkle on. Even in his post-treatment days, he went back to his beloved Baradine farm. We were so honoured to have him, Aunt Weisia and cousin Christopher over in Kuala Lumpur for my sister Dorene's wedding in Sept 2007. Even then, his eyes would light up when he spoke of Baradine. By his demeanour you would not have thought he was in pain, but he was in fact healing from a broken rib sustained due to the severe coughing he had gone through earlier. No doubt his crutches were eating into his ribs. True to form, I was told while at the KL International Airport on his trip back to Sydney he walked all the long way on his crutches, refusing a wheelchair. He would pass on just 4 months after that trip.

About a month before he died, he found out that the cancer had spread to his bones and that he would only have a short time to live. The way he put it to my brother Greg was "They tell me I have between 5 days and 3 months". He lived for another 2 weeks. He had time to set his affairs in order and spend time with his loved ones. In advance, he organised the details of his own funeral. I was told his funeral was lovely and simple, just as you would have expected of him. As Greg subsequently said to me "He is ready to go and not everyone has that".

Farewell Uncle Graeme.

At my sister Dorene's Wedding in Kuala Lumpur; Sept 2007

Graeme, Weisia, their youngest son Christopher, my sister Sheryn, her son Mitchell and my mother Helen.

Picture at the beginning of article; Graeme 10 years of age in 1949 on his horse 'Peter Pan', a year before he contracted polio.

CALVINS TAKE ON MATHS

Dedicated to all the lil' primary school kids out there . . .





P/s If you can't read the cartoon, double click on it and it will expand.

Contributed by Helen Lim while thinking of all her grandchildren in school.

THE WORLD IS MY OYSTER

It has been for a few years now that a revolutionary (revolutionary to me) body of thought has been slowly growing in my mind, stemming from when I first read two great books - The Power of Positive Thinking by Norman Vincent Peale and The Magic of Thinking Big by David Schwartz. I am convinced that we are all loaded with talent, ability and capability. We are seeds that contain the capacity of the life expanse. As Paula White, an American minister sums it up, "the life God put in you is bigger than the life you're living".

These epiphanies have been coagulating, adjusting and recoagulating adding a richness to my worldview. New epiphanies occur, and as I internalize them, they add even more flavour to this broadening worldview.

For me, the problem is getting it all out! Internalizing it all thoroughly that it spills over enough to nullify areas of weakness and bring visible and progressive results. I must be careful though to find a good grounding in all this as it runs deeper than just the "rah rah I can do it" mentality that finds attractiveness in the minds of youth. Nevertheless :

If you want a thing bad enough
To want to go out and fight for it
Work day and night for it
Give up your time and your peace and your sleep for it
And all you dream and scheme is about it
If life seems empty and useless without it
If gladly you'd sweat for it, fret for it, plan for it
Lose all terror of man for it
If you simply go after the thing you want
With all your capacity, strength and sagacity
Faith, hope, confidence and stern tenacity
If neither cold, poverty, famish and god
Nor sickness, nor pain of body and brain
Can keep you away from the thing you want
If dogged and grim you besiege and beset it
You'll get it!!

By Berton Bradley



Pic : My family who all jolly wish I would get some of that "hidden talent" out there and functioning!

A TOAST!

David and Dorene Niotakis.

Congratulations to my sister Dorene and her fiance David who got married this 1st of September. It was a charming garden wedding in Carcosa Seri Negara here in Kuala Lumpur and here are a few stills of the delightful occasion.

The place.

Sisters International.

The mother of the bride and the celebrant aka brother of the bride.

Silver bells?

Pretty maids all in a row.

The garden aisle.

The pledge.

DESIDERATA

Go placidly amidst the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of the spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labours and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Strive to be happy.

Found in Old St. Pauls Church
Dated 1692

Picture : An age old doorway; Rothenberg, Germany

ISABEL

Isabel is my niece who lives in Melbourne. She is named Isabel after my Mum whose middle name is Isabel. Thought these photos of this jolly little girl were all very nice and sought to do them justice in my little blog. The pics were all taken by my brother Greg.

RYANS WORDS

Ryan just turned two not that long ago.
Here are some other words he has developed.




mell - smell
catch back - scratch back
eh phant - elephant
yobot - robot
tans po mer - transformer
fiderman - spiderman
jim water - drink water
vishan - this one
bus ober dare - bus over there
cam i ya - camera
danjes - dangerous
pire enjin - fire engine
candew - candle
booni - Bruni (one of our dogs)
pissss - please
dan ku - thank you
yay yen - ryan


Photo taken by Greg; Dec 2006

PROVERBIAL PROVERBS

First think and then speak.
A stumble may prevent a fall.
Still waters run deep.
Rob Peter to pay Paul.

Caught between a rock and a hard place.
Death is a great leveler.
Don't cut off your nose to spite your face.
Discretion is the better part of valour.

Ignorance of the law excuses no man.
All that glitters is not gold.
Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.
Revenge is a dish best served cold.

In for a penny, in for a pound.
Never judge a book by its cover.
Lost time is never found.
Fire is a good servant but a bad master.

He that plants a tree plants for posterity.
Look before you leap.
Every man is his worst enemy.
Beauty is only skin-deep.

Spare the rod and spoil the child.
A stitch in time saves nine.
Out of sight, out of mind.
A miss is as good as a mile.

The last straw breaks the camels back.
Easier said than done.
Let not the pot call the kettle black.
Half a loaf is better than none.

One man's meat is another man's poison.
Every dog has its day.
There are two sides to every question.
Where there's a will there's a way.

Birds of a feather flock together
Like father like son.
One good turn deserves another.
Two heads are better than one.

He that knows nothing, doubts nothing.
Ask no questions, hear no lies.
A proof of the pudding is in the eating.
It is best to be on the safe side.

They that dance must pay the fiddler.
Business before pleasure.
Christmas comes but once a year.
Six of one, half dozen of the other.

Jack of all trades, master of none.
Crime does not pay.
A woman's work is never done.
Tomorrow is another day.

Robyn Toh
16th June 2007

CHRISTMAS IN JUNE

A latte at a sidewalk cafe.
French cuisine.
Reading poetry.
A good book.
An inspiring cook book.
Photographs.
A trip to the highlands . . .


. . Christmas in June . . . .


Picture : Taken by Robyn ; Dec 2005

CHEAP GRACE?

Is my face like a sour apple
Do I bitterly complain
Of old, unhappy far off things
Of cherished hopes proved vain

Do I have a string of broken songs
That stem my restless pursuits
The glamour of that fatal fame
Drugging my mind at its roots

Am I a caffeineted one man show
Given to verbal acrobatics
Am I a very talented fool
Mind brilliant but morally stupid

Am I parched and cracked like overbaked bread
Am I known to be stiff and proud
Do I play to the modern no-holds-barred
And find life in the centre of a crowd

Our humanity is in dire-dire straits
"With all your might" in the end does not work
We are in clear and very present danger
Behind our self-brilliance it lurks

Our troubles have a redeeming feature
To show us an exquisite sublime plan
The truth that we really need a Saviour
And through GRACE then only we can

For our qualification is our disqualification
To receive this sweet interlude
When we REALLY REALLY get this
It happens - a vital shift in our attitude

In grace we are not unhappy for our lack
A stillness thats strangely compelling
Grace has its special blend of gladness
When in it we are fully dwelling

It was grace that broke open history
When He died that we all might live
In God's profound tapestry of events
Not cheap, but real grace did He give

So . . . . . .

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me
I once was lost, but now am found
Was blind, but NOW I SEE . . . .

Robyn Toh
21st May 2007



Photograph : Taken by Greg Lim, Dec 2006

MY MAGNUM OPUS?

Runt of the litter?
Scum of the earth?

Pah!

Gee, I'm right as rain
So please don't be a pain
Different strokes for different folks
So keep your cerebral opinion

Dogs bark but the moon still shines
Like water off a ducks back
I don't give a rip, so keep your tip
I don't worry, I just hit the sack

Robyn Toh
18th May 2007

Pic : Wilbur of Charlotte's Web

MATTIE'S HEARTSONGS

Anniversary Reflections

I remember the day Jamie died.
Except . . .
I didn't know that Jamie DIED
Because I didn't know
What it was like to look or be dead
I remember you told me Jamie died, and
I remember his tubing wasn't on his trach, and
I remember that you wouldn't let me
Get in bed with Jamie that morning.
But I thought it was because Jamie was asleep,
Except . . .
He was really dead.
I remember that, but I didn't know that.
I remember all the people coming over
And going into Jamie's room, but
His music was playing, and
His nurses were there, and
He looked just the same in his bed,
So I never really knew he was dead.
I remember the day we went to church
And then to the cemetery to bury Jamie's body.
Except . . .
I didn't know that I wouldn't see him again.
I remember you put him in that little white box,
And you showed me how comfortable his body looked.
And I put a picture of us in his hand
With his cross and his Mr. Bear and his Blue-Bunny-Rabbit,
And I knew that we should Never put Jamie in a box on the floor
But it must be okay because
The nurses were helping you.
I remember the little white box in church and
I remember thinking it was time for Jamie
To knock on the box and we would open it and
He would sit up and yell, "BOO!" and we would all laugh.
I remember that you said this was
A celebration for Jamie at church,
So I knew it was just a game and that he would come out.
Except . . .
He didn't.
And the box got all buried into Heaven but under the ground,
With Jamie inside of it, because
He was dead.
I remember the day Jamie died,
And I understand now that it means Forever
And that he wasn't asleep and couldn't yell "BOO".
But I don't understand why you sent me to school that day.
If you knew that dead was Forever,
Why did you send me to school?
I should have stayed home like you,
To be with Jamie before he went
Forever into his little white box,
Because I want to remember Jamie,
Forever.

Mattie Stepanek
November 1995

The Left-Over Child

A long time ago, my parents
Had a little girl named Katie.
They thought that they would only
Have this one little child,
But then mommy started growing
Another little baby inside of her.
It was a little boy named Stevie.
But little Katie died, and
Then little Stevie died, and
My parents were alone
Without any children at all.
Then, they grew another baby.
It was a little boy named Jamie.
And then in 1990, they had
Another little boy named MAttie,
And Jamie and Mattie were
Brothers together for a long time.
But then Jamie died, too,
But Mattie was still alive because
He didn't die like his brothers and sister.
Now, he's not really the only child either.
Mattie is the left-over child,
All alone with the parents of dead children.

Mattie Stepanek
February 1996

About Watches

I like wearing
Lots of watches
For two reasons.
Firts,
If they are all set
A little different,
No one's ever
Too late, or
Too early, or
Right on time.
They just "are"
Second,
With all these
Watches on me,
It's like having
"All the time
In the world!"
And never having
To think about
The end of time,
Or about dying.

Mattie Stepanek
August 1997

On Being Thankful

Dear God,
I was going to thank You tonight
For a beautiful sunrise,
That was pink behind the fog down the hill,
And for a wonderful rainbow,
That I ran under pointing to
All my favorite colors,
A for such a great sunset,
That sparkled orange across the water.
I was going to thank You tonight
For all of these special gifts,
Except that none of them happened.
But do You know what?
I still love You, God,
And I have lots of other things
That I can thank You for tonight,
Even if You didn't give those
Very special gifts to me today.
It's okay, God,
Because I'll look for them all again,
When my tomorrow comes.
Amen.

Mattie Stepanek
November 1995


Matthew J.T. Stepanek was born in 1990 with a rare form of muscular dystrophy, a disease that weakens the muscles that hold together the bones of the body. His sister and two brothers died from the disease in early childhood. His mother has the adult form of the disease, diagnosed only after her children were born. Mattie's medical needs included a tracheostomy (tube into the trachea through his neck), ventilator, oxygen, Broviac (tube into top of the heart for medications and IV fluids), red blood and platelet transfusions (weekly), wheelchair, and more.

Mattie had 7 books published, mainly poetry, of which at least 3 were on the New York Times Bestsellers list. The 4 poems above were taken from his bestseller "Journey through Heartsongs", from his Heartsongs series. Mattie passed away on June 22 2004, when he was 13 years old. He was laid to rest next to his 3 siblings.

With his mother Jeni.

For his funeral, two fire trucks were parked at the gate of the cemetery with their ladders extended into an arch, with an American flag hanging at the top. A firefighter honour guard was present outside the church.

Mattie's eulogy was delivered by Jimmy Carter who said "We have known kings and queens, and we've known presidents and prime ministers, but the most extraordinary person whom I've ever known in my life is Mattie Stepanek"

HIS FIRST PRAYER

God bless Favver,

God bless Muvver,
God bless Sisser,
God bless Bruvver;
God bless Uncoo
Out at sea,
God bless all
An' God bless me!

No, Ryan did not come up with this poem. His vocabulary is however rapidly expanding. Here are some of his words that come to mind.

yite - light

twain - train

waining - raining

tonder - thunder

scat - scared

hey-yo - hello

cardodo - crocodile

i-chim - ice-cream

cawwy - carry

bowwer - flower

pitter - picture

pish - fish

penpenpok - pencil box

kos - close

battey - battery

skoo - school

ting - thing

eon bikle - Leon's bicycle

Poem by Norman Gale

Taken from The Child's Book Of Verse

OUR CRAZY WORLD

Is it safe to come out now, Toni?








Papa's gym.








What did you think shelves were for!








Kampung hair cut.








Heh! Heh! Heh! Were gonna leave you here!








Hope they don't mistake me for groceries and put me in the fry pan.








Mitch wrestles Lucky.








Dr. Mitch.
Look at the gullible patient.







Yahoos.








Gee, such hard work at the office!








Nothing like ice cream to instill a lil' discipline.








Even the dogs are amused.








Tribal fantasies. Poor slaves!








Don't mess with Mum, ya hear!








Here's that tribal thing again.








Aw, come on!!!








Woof! Woof!








Yes, dogs like going down slides.








And they complain Mum is lazy.








Here lil' fishies.








Gosh, wonder if 'em crabs know they're our dinner!











Transport - Papa style.








Aunty Sook Pin & Leon.
Insanity in action.








Psalm 42:8 By day the LORD directs his love, at night his song is with me -

TREES

The Oak is called the King of Trees,
The Aspen quivers in the breeze,
The Poplar grows up straight and tall,
The Pear tree spreads along the wall,
The Sycamore gives pleasant shade,
The Willow droops in watery glade,
The Fir Tree useful timber gives,
The Beech amid the forest lives.


By Sara Coleridge
Taken from Smith's Countryside Treasury

THE THINGS WE TEACH OUR CHILDREN!!

Viking versus Knight of The Round Table.








The hallowed Knight himself.








Pseudo Robin Hood!








Fencing.








Take that you . . . . .








Hiah! Hiah! Hiah!








Mini Musketeer.








One of Robin's men;
With his quiver of "rotans" and lego shield.







Peace and goodwill to all men . . . . . . . .

DEDICATED TO THE WORRY WORT

Luke 12 : 25 - 28 Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? . . . . . Consider how the lilies grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendour was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today, and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will He clothe you.


Pics : By looking at similarities of both pictures, what advertisement could these pictures represent? The answer is not Valium!

HOW THE LITTLE KITE LEARNED TO FLY

"I never can do it," the little kite said,
As he looked at the others high over his head;
"I know I should fall if I tried to fly."
"Try," said the big kite; "Only try!
Or I fear you will never learn at all."
But the little kite said, "I'm afraid I'll fall."

The big kite nodded : "Ah, well, good-bye;
I'm off"; and he rose toward the tranquil sky.
Then the little kite's paper stirred at the sight,
And trembling, he shook himself free for flight.
First whirling and frightened, then braver grown,
Up, up he rose through the air alone,
Till the big kite looking down could see
The little kite rising steadily.

Then how the little kite thrilled with pride,
As he sailed with the big kite side by side!
While far below he could see the ground,
And the boys like small spots moving round.
They rested high in the quiet air,
And only the birds and the clouds were there.
"Oh, how happy I am!" the little kite cried,
"And all because I was brave, and tried."


Anonymous
Taken from The Child's Book of Verse


Pic : May Fook and Deh Tong kite-flying; Pasir Ris Park, Singapore

MORE ABOUT SAM WALTON

• Forbes ranked Sam Walton as the richest man in the United States from 1985 to 1988, ceding the top spot to John Kluge in 1989 when the editors began to credit Walton's fortune jointly to him and his four children. Bill Gates first headed the list in 1992, the year Walton died.

• The Walton family held 5 spots in the top 10 richest people in the United States until 2005.

• If alive today, Sam Walton would be the world's wealthiest person, twice as rich as Bill Gates.

• Sam Walton introduced the concept of check-out counters at one location in the store. Registers throughout the store were moved to one location near the exits. Customers could be rung up for all their purchases and pay for them at one time, instead of paying for several things at several locations.

• Sam Walton quote "There is only one boss : the customer, and he (or she) can fire everyone in the company from the chairman and down, simply by spending their money somewhere else".

• Sam Walton quote "I'd hate to see any descendants of mine fall into the category of what I call "idle rich" . . . I hope they'll feel compelled to do something productive and useful and challenging . . . working on cures for cancer, or figuring out ways to bring culture and education to the underpriviledged, or becoming missionaries for free enterprise in the Third World. Or maybe - and this is strictly my idea - there's another Walton merchant lurking in the wings somewhere down the line".

• Quote about Sam Walton; by David Glass. "One thing you'll notice if you spend time very much time with Sam about Wal-Marts success. He's always saying things like 'This was the key to the whole thing', or 'That was the real secret'. He knows as well as anyone that there wasn't any magic formula. A lot of different things made it work, and in one day's time he may cite all of them as the 'key' or the 'secret'. Whats amazing is that for almost fifty years he's managed to focus on all of them at once - all the time. That's his real secret".

• Quote about Sam Walton; by Charlie Baum, an early Wal-Mart partner. "I've known Sam since his first store in Newport, Arkansas, and I believe that money is, in some respects, almost immaterial to him. What motivates the man is the desire to be absolutely on top of the heap. It is not money. Money drives him crazy now. His question to me at 6am not long ago was 'How do you inspire a grandchild to go to work if they know they'll never have a poor day in their life?'.

• Today some people say about him "He was a good guy, except if he was running you out of business".

SAM WALTON

One of my favourite books is Sam Waltons's "Made In America". Where money and wealth was concerned, he seemed to espouse an interesting old fashioned view, and was not ashamed to say so. He in fact wrote this book on his death bed; he was suffering from bone cancer; so one can imagine he would speak of what he thought very important.

Anyway - here is an abstract from his book :-


"So along comes Forbes in 1985 and says I'm the richest man in America. Well, there's no question that if you multiply the Wal-Mart stock price by how much we own, then maybe we are worth $20 or $30 billion, or whatever they say. The family may have those kinds of assets, but I have never seen that myself. For one thing, Helen and I only own 20 percent of our family's total interest in Wal-Mart. For another, as long as I have anything to do with it - and I'm confident this attitude will last at least another generation - most of that Wal-Mart stock is staying right where it is. We don't need the money. We don't need to buy a yacht. And thank goodness we never thought we had to go out and buy anything like an island. We just don't have those kinds of needs or ambitions, which wreck a lot of companies when they get along in years. Some families sell their stock off a little at a time to live high, and then - boom - somebody takes them over, and it all goes down the drain. One of the real reasons I'm writing this book is so my grandchildren and great-grandchildren will read it years from now and know this : If you start any of that foolishness, I'll come back and haunt you. So don't even think about it.

Not that I am trying to poor mouth here. We certainly have had more than adequate funds in this family for a long time - even before we got Wal-Mart cranked up. Here's the thing : money never has meant that much to me, not even in the sense of keeping score. If we had enough groceries, and a nice place to live, plenty of room to keep and feed my bird dogs, a place to hunt, a place to play tennis, and the means to get the kids good educations - thats rich. No question about it. And we have it. We're not crazy. We don't live like paupers the way some people depict us. We all love to fly, and we have nice airplanes, but I've owned about eighteen airplanes over the years, and I never bought one of them new. We have our family meetings at fine places like the Ritz Carlton in Naples, Florida or the Del Coronado in San Diego. This house we live in was designed by E. Fay Jones, who lives down the road in Fayettville and is a world-famous disciple of Frank Lloyd Wright. And even though I think it costs too much, I have to admit that its beautiful - but in a real simple, natural kind of way.

We're not ashamed of having money, but I just don't believe a big showy lifestyle is appropriate for anywhere, least of all here in Bentonville where folks work hard for their money and where we all know that everyone puts on their trousers one leg at a time. I'm not sure I ever figured out this celebrity business. Why in the world for example, would I get an invitation to Elizabeth Taylor's wedding out in Hollywood? I still can't believe it was news that I get my hair cut at the barbershop. Where else would I get it cut? Why do I drive a pickup truck? What am I supposed to haul my dogs around in, a Rolls-Royce?"


Samuel Moore Walton
(1918 - 1992)

SEASONS

Our lives are full of seasons
The good Lord made it so
Although some seasons seem to hurt us
We need them all to grow

What we fear most are the dark times
When the sun has left the sky
We become like a sage in days of yore
Who wondered much and sorrowed more

The shadows press in all around us
Like a kite tossed by the wind on high
Tumbling, darting here and there
A dark cloud that sails across the sky

I'm well acquainted with these dark times
They come by every once in a while
Now I don't fear but hide in a huddle
And smile myself a little smile

For there is much magic in the night
Under the bright silver moon
For the stars He lets out one by one
And we can't see the stars if its noon

In time spring peeks through the crack
I was just at the edge of the dark
The fog gets blown away from the sea
And the colds good for an orchard so young in the bark

Again it goes back to character
And so the seasons intervene
There is something bright in all weather
So He brings us these mingling scenes.


Robyn Toh
14th October 2006



Pic : At the Gold Coast before a storm while on our honeymoon, 1996.

WALKING

Wandering in the garden.








"Lets get back to the house, Leon."








A walk with Mum and Dad.








"The way seems far on these short legs of mine; good thing I'm one of 'em strong super duper hero type boys!"








Amah and Lucky (behind her). On her way back to the house after watering her vegetables.







Ak Kong taking a walk in the garden.








Down to the lake.








"Gee, I'm out of breath walking up this steep path!"
At the bird park.








Leon and Papa at the Bird Park.








Kung Kung and Mitchell.








Walking with the Singapore cousins.








After the kindy concert.








To town on the train.








A day out in Kuala Lumpur.








An evening walk.








Weribee Wildlife Sanctuary, Vic.








Toni and Papa; out for a morning walk.








The Lake Gardens.








Avillion, Port Dickson.









Isa 40:31 Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

IF I WERE AN APPLE

If I were an apple
And grew on a tree,
I think I'd drop down
On a nice boy like me.
I wouldn't stay there,
Giving nobody joy;
I'd fall down at once
And say, "Eat me, my boy!"

Anonymous
Taken from The Child's Book Of Verse

Prov 25:11 A word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver.

Pic : Naomi, Isabel, Leon and Toni eating apples at the Weribee Wildlife Sanctuary, Vic, Australia.

MY LIL' TONI

We have a little girl named Toni
She is such sweet company
Well – that is almost all the time
‘cept when she decides to be grumpy.


Her hair is usually well brushed and neat
She implores us to keep it long
She’ll stay for hours looking at flowers
“My Favourite Things” is her favourite song.

Like a clock, truth is written on her face
Her Dad says she’ll make a good lawyer
She’d remind you of things inconsistent
You’d know what I mean if you meet her.

Books – she ravenously reads them
At great speed goes through one by one
Her favourite authors Enid Blyton
But most books she finds really fun.

My girl is a chirpy little thing
Seeing some good in all weather
She loves different kinds of sweets
But doesn’t like fruit that is sour.

Toni has a number of nicknames
“My Shadow”, “Sunshine”, “This n’ That”
I sometimes call her “My Sidekick”
‘Cause, on many an errand by my side she sat.

She is the most understanding child I’ve ever known
She has the most patient of virtues
Although she has got to that stage and age
That she constantly tries on my shoes.

Comes dark when her little feet grow weary
And her eyes get droopy at night
We pray she’d have peace and God’s rest
As she sleeps till morning’s light.

Robyn Toh
15 Oct 2006

MY SON LEON

We seem to worry continually about our little fella Leon; being such an active child whether he eats enough, whether he will injure himself, whether he will grow up to be a responsible individual, etc . . . etc . . . . . However, his take on life can be seen below :

Relaxing - Penang

Relaxing - Port Dickson

Relaxing - Port Dickson

Relaxing - With Ryan

Relaxing - With his dinosaur book

Relaxing - Drawing (probably dinosaurs)

Prov 19:23 The fear of the Lord leads to life: Then one rests content, untouched by trouble.
Prov 3:26 For the Lord will be your confidence.

BROODING ON THE EDGE

Sorrow and grief, you have become my closest friend
Wooing me with such ferocity, to you time has no end
Excluding me from the world beyond my mind
Is it insanity, madness you wish me to find . . .

Despair and devastation, you have had your way with me
Haunting, wounding, hours of tears draw no mercy from thee
Piercing my depths, ah, not a soul to hear my wail
I whimper through the hours, where I once thought I would sail

Desperation and rejection, crushing my heart, oh, yet again
I fear thee, I fear thee, no song but darkness where I once sang
Another teardrop splashes right on my wounded heart
Insisting breathlessness and hopelessness still be of me a part

Desolation and loneliness, I thought I had you at bay
But so surely, oh, so surely I was such a fool to say
To underestimate your power to kill and to maim
There seems none but death that will find you tamed

But they say there is Jesus who can mend a broken heart
Joy for sorrow is what he promised from the start
He did not say our trials and troubles soon would end
But hope, help and comfort he promised he would send

From the grave of despair and sorrow You lept up high
You are the One who will never, never die
Creator, our Maker, the Lord that healeth me
Please grant me hope and healing, in your promises may I be.

Robyn Toh
March 1999



Isaiah 61:3 He will bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.


By the way, I have just found out that a storm is called a "hurricane" when it develops over the Atlantic and eastern Pacific Oceans; a "cyclone" when it develops over the Bay of Bengal and the northern Indian Ocean and a "typhoon" when it develops over the western Pacific.

Photograph : Florida; by Otis Imboden 1973

THE HEAT OF LIFE

The city dwellers all complain
When August comes and brings no rain.
The pavements burn upon their feet;
Temper and temperature compete.


They mop their brows, they slow their pace,
And wish they were some other place.


But farmers do not mind the heat;
They know it ripens corn and wheat.
They love to see the sun rise red,
Remembering what their fathers said:
"An August month that's dry and warm
Will never do the harvest harm."

Michael Lewis
Taken from Dick King - Smith's Countryside Treasury


Romans 5:3 We also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance character; and character hope.



Photograph : Newfoundland; by Sam Abell 1970

WHAT A WONDERFUL WORLD!

I see trees of green, red roses too

I see them bloom for me and you
And I think to myself what a wonderful world
I see skies of blue and clouds of white
The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night
And I think to myself what a wonderful world

The colours of the rainbow so pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces of people going by
I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do
They’re really saying I love you

I hear babies cry I watch them grow
They’ll learn much more than I’ll ever know
And I think to myself what a wonderful world
Yes I think to myself what a wonderful world

Oh, yeah

Lake Gardens.

Ulu Kancing.

On my Grandmothers property, Qld.
Her farmhouse can be seen as a white object in the rear next to the big tree.

The mountains in the distance - The Glasshouse Mountains.

Batu Dam.

Sung by Louis Armstrong, 1967

John 10:10 I came that you may have life, and life abundantly.

MAYBE SIMON, JUST MAYBE . . . . .

The lance smashed straight into the middle of the Black Knight’s shield and he fell off his massive chestnut horse. Victorious once more, the White Knight cantered up to the front of the King’s grandstand to accept his prize. The King stood up to make a speech of the White Knight’s bravery, courage and strength. He . . . . .

“Simon!!! Come here now! Stop dreaming this instant!” Simon regretfully put away his fantasy, storing it for further use, as he went to see Rachel, the Dragon Mistress in charge of the kitchen.

“Simon! Get on with your work, you have dishes to do, potatoes to peel and corridors to clean! And they had better be finished before supper or you shall get none!” Simon started washing the dishes, and there were many, considering the many inhabitants of the keep.

Just when he had almost finished the dishes, Remlin, the keep’s wizard swept imperiously in and commanded “Come here, boy! Unless you wish to be turned into a frog?!” Simon hurriedly rushed to his side, keeping his head humbly bowed. (Who wouldn’t with the threat of spending the rest of your life a toad?). Remlin handed him a message, and said, “Deliver this to Atrell, the witch of the fens.”

“But . . . .”
“Do it!”

“Yes, sir!” said Simon, while alternately backing towards the door and bowing his head. He finally turned and rushed through the door, tripping over a broom on the way.

In a way, Simon was glad to be out of the kitchen, away from chores, and into the sun’s warm and friendly rays, on a bright and cheerful day. But then again, who in their right mind would want to enter the forest, a place of dark and mysterious magic, as well as the strange sounds and cries of unseen monsters.

He set off, walking through the bustling village outside the keep. Past the sing-song voices of traders and the cries and laughter of little children, playing childish games in imitation of adult life.

Soon, he was past the village, then the keep’s gates, heading towards the dark, murky, forest. He could hear the rustling sound of the wind, rushing through the trees. It was very spooky under the green canopy of leaves and branches that blocked the bright sunlight which frightened away fear. He walked on, going deeper and deeper into the forest, following the path that winded around the trees, heading towards the fens.

His short, gasping breaths seemed to be the fiery breaths of a dark slimy monster hiding in the bushes. His light footsteps seemed to be the heavy footsteps of an invisible pursuer. His loud, fast, pounding heartbeats seemed to be a beacon for every evil, malignant monster in the forest.

A rustle in the bushes in the clearing ahead stopped him in his tracks. He stood there, petrified, frozen, unable to move, run, fight, or even think. The rustling got louder and louder and more violent, and then . . . . . . it stopped. Simon finally shook himself out of his trance and picked up a long stick on the ground. He bravely told himself that it was a rabbit or something else small, innocent and harmless. But his mind told him that it could be the most ugly, disgusting and revolting creature that he had ever seen. All his fears seemed embodied in the creature in the bush.

He approached the bush with the stick held out in front of him for protection. The closer he got to the bush, the more his fear intensified. When he was almost close enough to poke at the bush with his stick, his fear overcame him and he abruptly about faced and ran blindly away from the bush.

“Coward! His heart cried.
“Clever! Said his head.

Confused and afraid, he ran on and on, his fantasies of valiant knights left behind in a clearing, next to a bush where a small, blue sprite sat giggling hysterically.

Simon finally stopped running, his chest heaving, trying to get precious air into his lungs. He thought of his cowardice and he felt ashamed. “A knight?!! More like a kitchen hand!”, he thought to himself. “Running at the slightest sound, at an imaginary monster. How could I ever think to dream that one day, maybe one day I would be the bravest, the most courageous knight in the entire land?” Despair caught his heart in its inexorable grip. Tears of shame, despair and defeat ran down his cheeks.

He angrily brushed the tears away, and picked his pride of the ground and continued on, determined to complete his errand and return to the keep . . . . . . . . and reality.

He refused to listen and see the sights and sounds of the forest. Concentrating on the path ahead, on each step. Not noticing the smell of smoke, the increasing heat, the tendrils of smoke weaving eerily through the maze of trees.

The forest slowly changed to swamp. As he picked his way through the long grass, the crackling of the fire eluded him. His mind and thoughts were closed off. But as he entered the clearing with the wooden hut of the witch, he suddenly saw that blazing flames licking at the walls, burning, killing.

He stood unthinkingly, staring at the flames. Mesmerised by their dance of joy and hunger. Suddenly, he heard a cry from the inside of the burning hut. His mind clicked together and he rushed into action. Sprinting up the stairs and bursting through the door to see a form huddled near a window at the back of the hut. He ran to her side, narrowly dodging sparks and falling wood, jumping over blazing furniture, trying to get closer to the huddled form.

He finally reached her, knelt down and turned her gently over, shocked and disgusted by the deformed face. He carefully picked her up, shielding her from the flames. He started making his way to the door, through the maze of flames. Quickly, yet carefully, narrowly missing a falling beam on the way. Finally, after eternity was over, he made it through the door and on to the sweet, cool grass. He lay her down, looking for help but seeing none. The clearing was silent except for the crackling laugh of the flames. The smoke billowing up to the sky was a beacon to all around, yet none came.

Simon was very relieved when she started to cough, to breathe fresh air. Her eyes opened and her deformed face faded from memory as he looked into those ancient eyes of beauty and wisdom. She slowly sat up and then thanked him for his bravery and courage . . . . . and her life. Somehow cleansed by her gaze, by what he saw in those eyes that forgave everything, and saw everything.

Simon started to believe again, to hope and to dream of knights in shining armour cantering up to collect their prize, as he thought to himself, maybe Simon, just maybe . . . .

Written by my sister
Dorene Lim
Year 11, 1992
St Peters Lutheran College, Qld.

Pic : Dorene shown er . . . er . . . where is the pic taken Dorene?
Reply : Ok, she has said pic taken in Yosemite National Park in the USA. Apparently not seen in pic are some deer in the background which had really soft flurry antlers.

LISTEN!

Footfalls along the corridor,
Mumbles from within walls,
Birds argue from a distance,
A piano tinkles from afar,
A car drives along an unseen road,
A machine whirrs and hums,
Scrapes and creaks from furniture,
Stirrings of existence, of people,
Laughter and giggling from peers,
Your own breath, your heartbeat -
Rhythms of life.


By my brother
Gregory Lim
Year 11, 1988
St. Peters Lutheran College, Qld.

Rhotograph : Souther France; by Maynard Owen Williams

HOME

The outline of the house stood bleakly against a stark, black stormy sky. Joe Sackett stood at the bottom of the driveway and gazed at the old Victorian house. Joe was a ruggedly handsome man despite an ugly scar that ran from his forehead to his left ear. He put a hand up to it and thought of the events that had happened since he had left this old house where he was born.

Joe Sackett had been a young man of nineteen when he was drafted into the army and sent to Vietnam to fight the Viet Cong. He had served his full tour of duty and had even been in the battle of Khe San. Just before he was scheduled to return home, he was wrongly implicated in a blackmarket raid in which two military policemen were killed. Joe was court-martialed and dishonourably discharged and stripped of his rank. His shame prevented him from returning home and he had caught a plane to America.

That was many years ago – nine to be precise. It was a long time to be away from home. Home. There was a word he hadn’t used much for a while. The sky was darkening, and there was a fresh smell of coming rain. It had been raining when Joe said his goodbyes to his family.

His parents, his younger brother, Jubal and he had been standing on the verandah while the rain poured down and the lightning lit up the sky in brilliant flashes. He had returned from basic training a week ago and now an army Land Rover was waiting to take him to the airfield where a transport plane was waiting to depart to Vietnam with him and the rest of his platoon on it. His dad was shaking his hand and asking him to take care of himself and his mother was crying softly and telling him to listen to his dad. His brother, Jubal, was staring at the Land Rover with the burly corporal in the driving seat and two M-16’s on the back seat. Jubal had been so excited at his brother’s leaving to fight “those b . . . . . . commies” and had been blowing up his toy soldiers with fire crackers. Now that Joe was about to leave, he was suddenly quiet and quite detached. They had sent the first bodies back the day before from Vietnam. They had shown the coffins being unloaded on TV and death was suddenly part of Joe’s leaving. Joe had run to the Land Rover and climbed in and had shouted goodbyes while the vehicle trundled down the driveway.

Joe walked up to the house and stood on the verandah. The old heavy wooden door, the stained glass windows and big round doorbell which had never worked, brought memories flooding back. It had been so long.

After he had arrived in America, he had traveled around the country doing odd jobs just for cash to eat and carry on. After a couple of years he had got a job driving a taxi in New York. That suited him fine for a while but after a few years he had got the itch to travel again and went west. In Nebraska, he got a job as a trucker and traveling was paid for. He had received an assignment to send a truckload of farm machinery up to New York to be sent to Brooklyn to be exported. It was about two in the morning when he was driving through Harlem that he was caught in a gang clash between blacks and Hispanics.

Joe smiled grimly at the memory. It was the first time he had seen the face of a man he killed. In Vietnam, killing had always been so ‘impersonal’, as a colleague of his out it.

The big eighteen-wheeler had the front tyres shot out and it crashed into a parked car. Joe had jumped out of the truck to be faced with a machete-wielding Hispanic who was obviously ‘high’. That’s when his face was cut open. The Hispanic died from a broken neck.

Lying in the hospital, Joe had decided to come home and there he was on the verandah. The house was in pitch darkness and Joe frowned, puzzled. Even if they were out, they would have left a light on.

A car suddenly pulled up behind him and he turned to face it. It was a police car. A young policeman stuck his head out of the window and asked Joe whom he was looking for. Joe replied ‘The Sacketts. Do you know where they are?’ The policeman said that the old couple had died a couple of years ago. Seemed like their youngest son had been killed in action two days before he was supposed to come back from Vietnam and the older one had been missing for quite a while. The policeman asked if they were friends of his, and Joe said, ‘no’. It’s just that he had come by this house when he was younger and he liked it. He thanked the policeman and walked off down the driveway. The policeman watched the lonely figure, carrying his duffel bag, walk down the road through the rain. ‘Strange,’ he said.



Gregory Lim
Year 11, 1988
St. Peters Lutheran College, Qld.

Pic : Greg on his bike outside his home in Melbourne

LOOKING

Hey, who's that playing in the park?









Watching the chickens n' ducks.








Neighbours on a speed boat!








Looking for shells.








Toni looking out our room window.








At the Bird Park, Lake Gardens.








Looking out from the train.








Here fishies . . . . here fishies . .








Fireworks display at New Year.








Looking for fish.








Macadamia Factory, Qld.







With Naomi & Isabel.
Weribee Wildlife Sanctuary, Vic.


Port Dickson.
Club Med, Cherating.
Hey! Theres our dog Rusty!


Jer 29:13 You will seek me and find me when you search for me with all your heart.

BE STILL

In the matter of an hour . . . .

Psalms 46:10 Be still and know that I am God . . .

RICH MULLINS

Lately there seems to be much exposure on heroes cut down in their prime. A song that has been my no 1 favorite for the past 2 months is "Sometimes By Step" by Rich Mullins. Mullins is best known for the church standard "Awesome God". Even my 7 year old daughter sings along in the car as we zip around.

Not surprisingly, with my jurassic exposure to these sorts of issues, I actually thought "Sometimes By Step" was one of the latest songs released. Recently when reading of the demise of Steve Irwin and Peter Brock, I was rather taken aback to see Rich Mullins name juxtaposed as another hero prematurely taken from this world. Another poignant death, and as I will write another day, by no means the last to be brought into "my little world" these few weeks. He died 9 years ago in what the world terms a "tragic accident" when he was just 42. The song "Sometimes By Step" is in fact 15 years old! Do not know that Mullins death was a tragic as we seem to think. It has been recorded that in the afternoon of the accident that took him out, he told his manager that he was in a period of the greatest peace he had ever known. Uncanny huh.

A little about him - whilst Mullins was known as a great song writer, he had a great living compassion for the poor and adhered to a vow of poverty. From his music earnings he took a small salary and the rest was channeled out to the needy world. He modeled his life after his hero St Francis of Assisi and with some friends whom also took vows of poverty formed the charitable support organisation "The Kid Brothers of St Frank" which is still very active today.


Sometimes by Step by Rich Mullins and Beaker
As Recorded on The World as Best as I Remember It, Volume 2

Sometimes the night was beautiful
Sometimes the sky was so far away
Sometimes it seemed to stoop so close
You could touch it but your heart would break

Sometimes the morning came too soon
Sometimes the day could be so hot
There was so much work left to do
But so much You'd already done

Oh God, You are my God And I will ever praise You
Oh God, You are my God And I will ever praise You
I will seek You in the morning And I will learn to walk in Your ways
And step by step You'll lead me And I will follow You all of my days

Sometimes I think of Abraham
How one star he saw had been lit for me
He was a stranger in this land
And I am that, no less than he

And on this road to righteousness
Sometimes the climb can be so steep
I may falter in my steps
But never beyond Your reach

Copyright 1992 - Edward Grant, Inc., 1991 - Kid Brothers of St. Frank Publishing


Pic : The sky at dusk one evening in 2003. Taken from our Templers Park home.

PEACE IN THE STORM

Buttercups are beautiful,
delightful and free
Sleigh bells and mistletoe,
and lights on a tree
The laughter of little ones,
filled with such glee
Yet where are these things,
can the eye see?

The fragrance of a daffodil, drifts through the air
The memory of a charming smile, so fresh and so fair
The touch of the breeze, caressing my soul
But of these things, where can the eye behold?

The mountains, the valleys, the secrets they hold
The clouds in the sky, as they rumble and fold
The vastness of a lake, so calm and serene
So tempting its calling, but where can it be seen?

The tempest of life, is a ravaging force
Hiding the sunshine, with desperation and loss
Do not be fooled, by the storms darkest clouds
For right in its eye, are shined jewels and crowns

For character and humility, there is a heavy price to pay
The results – not efficiency, nor glamour, nor fame
But a broken spirit, mending in time
Able to hope and pray, and hear God’s bells chime

So look for the little things, God has placed at each mile
Through your tears see the sunbeams, and then see His smile
Live not in regret, but in His pictures in your mind
And peace within the storm, you surely will find

Robyn Toh
The Lake Gardens
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
8th May 1999


Proverbs 14:30 A heart at peace gives life to the body . . . .

Pic : Ryan looking out from our bedroom.

CRIKEY!

I like most others who have been exposed to Steve Irwin and his fervour for animals, was saddened by his harrowing and untimely death. It was our fortune that my kids Toni, Leon and I had the priviledge of visiting Steve's Australia Zoo with my father on one of our trips to Australia, this one being in July 2004. The Australia Zoo in Beerwah is situated about an hours drive north of Brisbane and is on route to my Grandmothers farm which is yet a further hour north inland. My mother was spending the day with my Grandmother at her retirement home in the quaint town of Maleny not far off which saw the rest of us trooping off the get a dose of Steve's zoological passion.

We did not see Steve on that visit that day. However, in taking in the different aspects of the zoo, we could feel a marked spirit of dilligence and conscientiousness in the animal carers and other supporting staff. The animals were chirpy and healthy, the place was clean and there was a sense of "vision" in the air with us visitors being educated on how the zoo was expanding step by step to deliver a more complete and expansive experience with nature. Passion coupled with practical planning had obviously made the difference.

What however brings me to my blog this time is to recount a chance experience I had at the zoo. There was a daily "ritual" where at a certain time, a few elephants would walk by and stop at a certain spot to be fed by excited (and nervous) children. These children were of course made to line up first and each child was given a piece of cut up fruit. It was while waiting in line that I overhead what seemed to be a senior staff telling a junior compatriot - "cut up more fruit to make sure that every child has a go". There were obviously more children than expected that day and in a spirit of excellence, the carers did not wish any child to miss out on the feeding experience. Steve's rich and wholesome approach to animals and their conservation had so obviously permeated into the work ethic of those exposed to him. Sometimes we seem inundated with cliches but "make a difference" had not been just a cliche to him.

AUSTRALIA ZOO

The "feeding the elephants" ritual. Behind Toni - brave Leon standing as far back as he thought safe.

Lil' crocodile hunter wrestling a croc.

Waiting with their Grandfather at the crocoseum for the show to start. At the time of our visit, the crocoseum had only been open for about a year.

Up close with little kanga.

With a rare albino kangaroo.

Feeding time.

IN MEMORIAM

These past two weeks Australia has lost two living legends whom we picture as having really lived. Unfortunately, both lost their lives tragically. Both with different passions, but both made their mark. Both were offered state funerals. Steve Irwin's family has famously declined the offer saying he would have wanted to be sent off like an "ordinary bloke". Peter Brock, the racing legend, is however being accorded a state funeral in Victoria.

Two years ago, in September I lost my own living legend. My Grandmother - Iris Helen Usher nee Wilbraham (1913 - 2004). She lived on a farm two hours north of Brisbane and to get there we would actually need to pass the Irwin family's Australia Zoo in Beerwah, near the Landsborough turnoff. My Grandmother had just the sort of mind that made me often think she was far more equipped to handle the modern world than I am. She had a quick mind and was a fast driver. I used to tell her that to my friends I refered to her as my Speedy Gonzales Grandma. The cheeky lady was tickled pink by this. On our errand cum shopping trips to Imbil or Gympie, she explained to me numerous times how to navigate safely on gravel roads in the face of the occasional oncoming car - press your brakes to slow the car down, and only then move the vehicle off to the road shoulder. This was to avoid the car skidding.

Grandma Usher learnt to drive in 1952 when she had to begin taking my Uncle Graeme (born 1939) to the train station in Brooloo on Monday mornings for him to catch the train to Gympie for school. She would again make the trip on Friday afternoons to pick him up for the weekend. My Grandfather, Leonard William Usher (1911 - 1975) worked in a saw mill in the day. In the mornings and after work he would milk his dairy cattle that grazed on his 640 acre property. On weekends he would also tend to the beef cattle he was rearing over the ridge on some forestry land he had leased. It was thus left to my Grandmother to do the ferrying to and from the train station. She also did this for my Mum Helen (born 1941) and her younger brother Darrel (born 1945) when they came of age. She enjoyed driving and actually drove until about the age of 87. Her last car was a spiffy red Mazda Astina.

My Grandmother had her share of difficulties but always managed a certain twinkle in her step. Her eldest Graeme, became a victim to polio in the last polio outbreak that began in the summer of 1950. He was attending a small school in Brooloo and of the 30 odd students there, 6 contracted the virus which also resulted in 1 death. Graeme who was 11 at the time, spent a year in hospital, from 18th Feb 1951 to 17th Feb 1952. He was sent to a hospital in Brisbane to be put onto an Iron Lung and the polio caused paralysis in his left leg. Brisbane was about a 2 hour drive from the farm. My Grandmother could only visit him once a month. The mail man would throw the newspaper - The Courier Mail - at the gate of the property every morning on his way through. Once a month she would arrange for him to pick her up on the way and drop her off in Landsborough where she would take the train down to Brisbane. In the evening she would take the train to Eumundi where my Grandfather would then pick her up. I remember many times when I myself took the train to Eumundi and she would be there to pick me up.

My Grandfather died in 1975. He had a weak heart although officially the cause of death was pneumonia. I only met him on my first trip to Australia when I was 4. I do remember him, . . . perhaps more the aura of him. When my Grandmother and Grandfather went off on their first date, they both were on horseback! I remember feeling a great mix of thrill and fear while us kids looked out the window when he and some other guy had a horse on the ground with its face covered in cloth. The were doing something to the hoof or shoe of this horse which looked huge lying down. I remember the air was tense so whatever was happening must have been dangerous. My Grandmother inherited the farm and in doing so she became the owner of the only privately owned mountain in South East Queensland. The bluff on that mountain was named Duwirri, an aboriginal term. It was from this bluff that her ashes were released into the wind after she died.

I vividly remember one evening at dusk while I was near the tank of molasses by the gate seeing her scurrying out of the barn to the farmhouse just before twilight having a jug in her hand. The jug was full of fresh milk scooped from a large storage tank of freshly milked milk. I remember the taste of Sarspirilla, a soft drink that for some reason is associated with my memory of her. Bacon never tasted as good as when she cooked us bacon and eggs. The smell of frying bacon awoke us from our beds on the verandah on the far side of the house. Under the house was sandy and dusty and sometimes we played there looking for eggs the chickens had layed. She had strawberries in her garden and she made her own jam. She also made shortbread and fruitcake. Before she was married, being the oldest, she would sew the clothes for the rest of her family. She sewed her own wedding dress, as did my mother in her wedding to my father in 1965. Incidently, my mother, who is also a great seamstress, also sewed my elder sisters wedding dress.

At the farm, I remember us kids sitting in the scoop of the tractor - driven by my Uncle Darrel - heading into the paddocks in search of a tree to cut down that would suit as a Christmas tree. There was a creek at the bottom of the hill upon which her farmhouse was and in that creek lived a rare platypus - the famous egg laying mammal. Us kids never saw it but heard it splashing into the water when hearing us come near. Being a creek of stones, the water was always very cold. Sometimes when there was a suitable vine we could swing and splash into the water - carefully though - depending on the height of the water which could be shallow if there had not been much rain. I also remember following my father out one evening when it had been wet, looking for yabbies. He would find holes, put a baited string in and later pull the string out and if we were lucky there was a claw grabbing onto the bait. Those yabbies were quickly put into a bucket and later cooked!

My Grandmother was an accomplished pianist. Nearly every time I would visit I would get her to play the "Robins Return" which has since become a favorite of mine. She later gave me a copy of the sheet music to the song as well as a Thompson grade 1 piano book! She loved sport too and always had the radio on in the afternoons, listening to the cricket; and she always knew what was happening on the world tennis circuit. Her letters would always let us know the latest on these fronts as well as the latest rainfall measurements and a good opinionated dose of politics. One letter told of a decision of the authorities to name the bridge at one end of her property "Iris Bridge" after her. She however said she prefered it called "Usher Bridge" which it is now called. She would call me and her other grandchildren on our birthdays and I still treasure her last call to me in May 2004. She was by then in a nursing home in the dainty town of Maleny. Her voice sounded quiet and frail and she would breathe her last just 4 months later.

I can still hear her words :

"Good, better, best - never let it rest
Till your good is better and your better best . . . . . ."


. . In Memoriam . .

IRIS HELEN USHER

Duwirri - my Grandmothers mountain. It was from there that her ashes were released to the wind.

Usher Bridge naming ceremony. Far right Rob Borbidge, the then Premier of Queensland.
From left, my cousin Donna, Uncle Darrel, Uncle Graeme, my Grandmother, Grame's wife Dr. Weisia Willabinsky, Darrel's wife Aunty Maureen.

At the front of the farm house.

With one of her horses. In the back the tank of molasses can be seen - a thick brown liquid made from raw sugar - a treat for the horses. To the right of the tank is the gate where the mailman threw the daily Courier Mail each morning on his way through. Later in her life when my Grandmother grew weak, she would hop in her red Astina parked under the house and drive up to the gate to get the paper.

Playing my favorite "Robins Return" with May Fook listening on. She later gave me a copy of the sheet music to this song. The piano was a gift to my mother whan she was young and it now has a treasured place in my brother's home in Melbourne.

Toni & Leon taking it all in from the motel in Maleny. In the far distance . . . the Pacific Ocean.

The Erowal Retirement Home in the quaint town of Maleny where my Grandmother spent the last 2 years of her life. The home is run by the Uniting Church of Australia.

4 generations. In the rear is my Great Aunt Dorothy my Grandmothers youngest sister. We chanced upon her as she was up from Towoomba for the day.

The last time I saw my Grandmother. She would pass away in her sleep 2 months later on the 2nd of September.

Picking oranges in the grounds of the retirement home.

Leon in an Australian Army truck. The Salvation Army were there that day to give the residents of the home an orchestral performance. Lucky fella!

VISITING JAMIE

 

RYAN WAS BORN

 

ROBYN AND ANAK MALAYSIA

ANAK MALAYSIA?

Papa and the Kids

LEON TRYING TO BE FUNNY AS USUAL!

Robyn and the Kids

Wonderful Moment Boating On The Lake

A MIDNIGHT SERENADE

A MIDNIGHT SERENADE

The clouds congeal together in a mighty volcanic array
Shutting out sight of the deep blue sky
Mighty rumbles though not heard
Are seen with minds eye

Beyond the clouds a twilight tapestry
Interwoven in divine majesty
The stars twinkle way yonder
Oblivious to natures call light years away

The gentle rustling of chattering leaves
Against the urgent "click clack" of the regal red palms
Vento, the wind, triumphs through the valley
Announcing the arrival of the earth's longing

Little yellow posies dance gleefully in anticipation
The Birds of Paradise sway in equal delight
The birds huddle in their hidden nests
Stirring at the sweet aroma in the air

Like Santa's Reindeer sleighbells at Christmas
The windchimes sing a dainty song
The source of its music caressed by the breeze
Twirls in a magical dance

Tiny droplets begin their descent
Like molten glass, sparkling and shimmering
Each drop splatters gracefully
Adding to the chorus of the night

In moons half light - the silhouette of a man
His thoughts flickering in nights shadows
Intoxicated by the priceless display before him
His heart longs to join in natures orchestra

He closes his eyes, his lungs drinking in creations wonder
His mind floats on the waves of the wind
Bobbing up and down . . . the past, the present . . . the future
From his lips, a hushed sigh

Pausing softly he welcomes the presence of The Almighty
Like old friends they enjoy life's beauty together
Embracing, the man and his God
Dwelling in the night, so dark, to the soul so bright
Awaiting the promise of dawn, to continue on life's call


Robyn Toh
Sri Hartamas, Kuala Lumpur
Malaysia 1997


Picture of Toni on the balcony where this scene unfolded late one night before the rain