Summer reading
Our Community Matters • 5 •
Calling Picola BY SUSAN N CORRY
I wasn’t always proud of my mother. She was so immersed in the local community that as a teenager in the 1960s, I found it difficult to distance myself from her. My mother was the glue that held our little district together.
it over her shoulder and rushed to grab the Bakelite phone from its cradle in the den.
She was always out there getting things done, raising money for some special cause or another, cooking food to take to dances, sporting events and church functions. Mum was loud and vivacious, which was highly embarrassing for a teenager trying to be groovy. I wanted her to be the quiet, retiring type who was seen but not heard.
I hoped the loved-up bullies down the back weren’t paying attention. I daren’t glance around and risk their “What’re you gawkin’ at?” snarls and the glares from my older sisters for drawing attention to myself, and by default to them. The female Bus Captain cuddled up next to her current boyfriend, the male Bus Captain. She giggled as she opened her mouth and blew out a big pink balloon of bubble gum. It popped and deflated. She stuck out her pink tongue, dripping with saliva, and twirled the bubble gum around and around with it, teasing her boyfriend. She then deposited the pliable gum into his open mouth, which was moist with expectation. They amused themselves by transferring the gum back and forth on their tongues for the entire journey.
I travelled to school by bus, which played the local radio station, and every morning the presenter named a town in the listening area in northern Victoria. The first person to call in from that town could request a song. As soon as the announcer said “Picola”, I knew Mum would call in. I visualised her at the kitchen sink listening to the radio. “Goody!” she would yell as she swiped her hands on the dripping wet tea towel, threw
I slid down in my seat in the middle of the bus, where we Form One students sat. The front seats were reserved for primary school students, and the back seats were bagsed by the oldest kids.
I hoped they were so involved with their flirting
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