Thursday, August 24, 2023
FUNNY FRIDAY
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Astute readers will note that I have reverted to the Funny Friday title. This is because people still refer to the segment as Funny Friday,so it will remain called that, even if I post it on Thursday.
A potpourri of Funny Friday humour today, folks, for your entertainment.
A word of caution, there is risqué content ahead.
By the way, ever wondered where the word potpourri, alternatively pot pourri, originated?
Usually referring to a mixture of dried petals and spices placed in a bowl to perfume a room, it has been extended to a mixture or medley of things.
From:
Long ago, Spanish cooks developed a slow-cooked stew made of mixed meat and vegetables which they called olla podrida — that’s “rotten pot” in English. No one is entirely sure why that name was chosen; the leading theory is that the slow-cooking process mimicked decomposition.At any rate, the stew must have been pretty scrumptious, because when the French got a taste of it, they started making it too, but they didn’t call it olla podrida. They translated the name of it literally, calling it pot pourri, French for “rotten pot.”The mixed-meat stew pot pourri — along with its name (later pot-pourri and potpourri) — found its way to England in the early 17th century. For English diners, the salient feature of the stew (which one assumes smelled pretty good) was that it was a medley of meats — its putrid past falling by the wayside. By 1750, people were creating new medleys of good-smelling items — primarily dried flowers and spices — and calling it potpourri as well.The word continued its trek into the metaphorical, and in 1855 we find the first use of potpourri to mean “a miscellaneous collection,” in that case a collection of music.
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SOME HUMOUR:
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When I heard they had a cure for dyslexia, it was like music to my arse.
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A truck loaded with thousands of copies of Roget's Thesaurus crashed yesterday losing its entire load. Witnesses were stunned, startled, aghast, taken aback, stupefied, confused, shocked, rattled, paralysed, dazed, bewildered, mixed up, surprised, awed, dumbfounded, nonplussed, flabbergasted, astounded, amazed, confounded, astonished, overwhelmed, horrified, numbed, flummoxed, speechless, perplexed, and gobsmacked.
Meanwhile, those waiting for the shipment were at a loss for words.
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A truck loaded with Vicks Vaporub overturned on the highway.
Amazingly, there was no congestion for eight hours.
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My grief counsellor died this week but luckily he was so good I didn't give a shit.
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Why can’t a dyslexic tell a joke?
Because they always punch up the fuck line.
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To whoever stole my thesaurus, you made my day bad. I hope bad things happen to you. You're a bad person.
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Did you hear about the dyslexic agnostic insomniac?
He lay awake all night wondering if there really was a dog.
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My new thesaurus is terrible.
In fact I'd go as far to say that it's terrible.
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A woman was married to a man who would make extremely loud and disgusting farts every morning as soon as he woke up. Every time he did so, the woman was disgusted and told him, "One of these days, you're going to fart your guts out!"
One morning the woman got up early to cook a turkey for a party they were hosting that night. As she looked down at the turkey's guts and entrails that she had just removed, she got a mischievous little idea...
The woman took the turkey entrails and guts and walked upstairs to her bedroom, where her husband was still sleeping. She carefully pulled down his shorts and placed the turkey guts inside them. She smiled and went back downstairs to finish her work.
A few minutes later, she heard her husband wake up with his usual "Sonic-Boom" fart, immediately followed by a blood-curdling scream. She laughed as she heard him run into the bathroom.
A short while later, he came down to the kitchen still panting from the scare. She tried to hold back a smile as she asked him what was the matter.
He replied: "Honey, you were right! You said one of these days I was gonna fart my guts out, and it happened! But, by the grace of God, some Vaseline and these two fingers I was able to get them back in."
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LIMERICK OF THE WEEK:
The following limerick is by famous English poet, playwright, novelist, and critic Algernon Charles Swinburne (1837 – 1909). It has been posted in Bytes previously and one can see the talent of a true wordsmith at work in its composition. It is posed again because I came across a sequel.
First, the original:
There was a young girl of Aberystwyth
Who took grain to the mill to get grist with.
The miller’s son, Jack,
Laid her flat on her back,
And united the organs they pissed with.
The follow-up:
Remember those two of Aberystwyth
Who connected the things that they pissed with?
She sat on his lap
But they both had the clap
And they cursed with the things that they kissed with.
By the way, have you ever wondered at the origin of the slang term ‘clap’ for a venereal disease, typically gonorrhea?
Here are some explanations, reprinted from K Health at:
A popular theory is that the term was coined from the French word, clapier, meaning brothel. In the 1500s, this word referred to a rabbit’s nest; due to the active sex lives of rabbits, the name was picked up as a slang term for brothels, a place where people engaged in regular sex and could spread the disease easily.If you had the disease, you had “clapier bubo.” This was eventually shortened to “clap.”Another theory suggests that the infection got its name in the days before antibiotics, when men would treat gonorrhea by slapping their penis against a board or clapping it between two hands to force out infected discharge.There are also some etymologists who believe the term originated from an old English word, “clappan”, which means “beating or throbbing.”In this theory, “the clap” could have originated from the symptoms caused by gonorrhea, like painful urination, and throbbing pain in the genitals.
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GALLERY:
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CORN CORNER:
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So I believe in helping dogs get a new home rather than getting a puppy... so, I bought a dog from our local blacksmith! :D
Turned out to be a good deal too! When we came home he made a bolt for the door.
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For those of you who are about to get married, here’s something to consider:
On the one hand, you get to wear a really cool ring.
On the other hand,….you don’t.
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Vaping is weird...
You walk past a group of dudes who look like gangsters but smell like strawberry muffins...
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Wednesday, August 23, 2023
POETRY SPOT
Monsignor Patrick Joseph Hartigan (13 October 1878 – 27 December 1952) was an Australian Roman Catholic priest, educator, author and poet, writing under the name John O'Brien.
Tangmalangaloo
- John O'Brien
The bishop sat in lordly state and purple cap sublime,
And galvanized the old bush church at Confirmation time;
And all the kids were mustered up from fifty miles around,
With Sunday clothes, and staring eyes, and ignorance profound.
Now was it fate, or was it grace, whereby they yarded too
An overgrown two-storey lad from Tangmalangaloo?
A hefty son of virgin soil, where nature has had her fling,
And grows the trefoil three feet high and mats it in the spring;
Where mighty hills uplift their heads to pierce the welkin’s rim,
And trees sprout up a hundred feet before they shoot a limb;
There everything is big and grand, and men are giants too –
But Christian Knowledge wilts, alas, at Tangmalangaloo.
The bishop summed the youngsters up, as bishops only can;
He cast a searching glance around, then fixed upon his man.
But glum and dumb and undismayed through every bout he sat;
He seemed to think that he was there, but wasn’t sure of that.
The bishop gave a scornful look, as bishops sometimes do,
And glared right through the pagan in from Tangmalangaloo.
‘Come, tell me, boy,’ his lordship said, in crushing tones severe,
‘Come, tell me why is Christmas Day the greatest of the year?
‘How is it that around the world we celebrate that day
‘And send a name upon a card to those who’re far away?
‘Why is it wandering ones return with smiles and greetings, too?
A squall of knowledge hit the lad from Tangmalangaloo.
He gave a lurch which set a-shake the vases on the shelf,
He knocked the benches all askew, up-ending of himself.
And oh, how pleased his lordship was, and how he smiled to say,
‘That’s good, my boy. Come, tell me now; and what is Christmas Day?
The ready answer bared a fact no bishop ever knew –
‘It’s the day before the races out at Tangmalangaloo.
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By the way:
From:
Hartigan was a Roman Catholic priest in rural New South Wales, in particular
the Goulburn diocese and later at Narrandera. He is less well known than
Banjo Paterson and Henry Lawson, the doyens of the Australian
bush ballad tradition, though he expresses a closer and gentler affinity for
the Australian bush and its communities than either of them.
Hartigan has
another connection with Paterson: he gave the last rites to Jack Riley of
Bringenbrong, the man whose legendary exploits are supposedly recorded in
Paterson's epic bush ballad 'The Man from Snowy River'.
According to legend, Hartigan was in the Albury presbytery in 1914 when word
came through that an old man named Riley was dying at a place called
Bringenbong on the Upper Murray, and had asked for a priest to bring him the
last sacraments. It took Hartigan several days to reach Riley, who he found
not at Bringenbong but at a place called Hickeys, in sight of Mt Kosciusko
at the end of the track. After administering the sacraments it was too late
for Hartigan to return to Albury, so he gratefully accepted local
hospitality and, in front of a blazing log fire, recited one of his
favourite poems, 'The Man From Snowy River'. After he had finished he
remarked that it must have been in these parts that the man from Snowy River
had made his famous ride. To his astonishment the laconic reply came that
the subject of Paterson's poem was none other than Riley, the old man he had
just prepared for death.
Tuesday, August 22, 2023
AESOP'S FABLES
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Aesop and the Fables:
Aesop's Fables, or the Aesopica, is a collection of fables credited to Aesop, a slave and storyteller believed to have lived in ancient Greece between 620 and 564 BCE. Of diverse origins, the stories associated with his name have descended to modern times through a number of sources and continue to be reinterpreted in different verbal registers and in popular as well as artistic media. The fables originally belonged to the oral tradition and were not collected for some three centuries after Aesop's death. By that time a variety of other stories, jokes and proverbs were being ascribed to him.
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Fable:
One day, in a stable on a farm, a dog lay asleep in a manger that was filled with hay. The dog was awakened by the cattle, which came into the stable tired and hungry from working all day in the field.
However the dog would not let them get near the manger, because he wanted it all for himself. Indeed, he snarled and bared his teeth at them: it was as if the manger were filled with the best of meat and bones, which he wished to keep all for himself. In actual fact, of course, the manger contained only hay (and the dog himself).
The cattle looked at the dog with undisguised contempt.
‘How selfish he is!’ said one of the cows. ‘He cannot eat the hay himself, but he will not let us eat it – even though we are so hungry for it!’
At this point, the farmer came into the stable and saw how the dog was acting. He grabbed a stick and drove the dog out of the stable, hitting him for his selfish behaviour towards the cows.
Moral:
Do not grudge others what you cannot enjoy yourself.
Comments:
- The story and metaphor of The Dog in the Manger derives from an old Greek fable which has been transmitted in several different versions. Interpreted variously over the centuries, the metaphor is now used to speak of one who spitefully prevents others from having something for which one has no use.
- Although the story was ascribed to Aesop's Fables in the 15th century, there is no ancient source that does so.
- From this fable and its moral comes the common expression ‘dog in a manger’ to refer to someone who has no need of (or ability to use) a possession that would be useful or valuable to others, but who prevents others from having it.
- The popularity of the ‘dog in the manger’ story appears to have had more to do with the spread of Christianity than the popularity of Aesop’s work.
- A version of the fable was alluded to in Saying 102 of the apocryphal Gospel of Thomas. This example involves oxen rather than a horse: "Jesus said, 'Woe to the Pharisees, for they are like a dog sleeping in the manger of oxen, for neither does he eat nor does he let the oxen eat'."
- See also Mathew 23.13:
"Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You shut the kingdom of heaven in men's faces; you do not enter yourselves, nor will you let others enter."
Gallery:
C 1831 platter featuring the Dog in the Manger
Child’s ABC plate
Child’s ABC plate
Walter Hunt (1861–1941), "Dog in the Manger" c 1885
Based on the Aesop’s fable, William Jennings Bryan is the dog that keeps horses from the “White House Oats,” even though he himself will not eat the grain. The cartoon manifests the common feeling that the twice-defeated Democratic presidential nominee of 1896 and 1900 was obstructing his party from unifying around another candidate. Bryan upstaged the 1904 nominee by announcing his own populist agenda, which many interpreted as the beginning of his campaign for the presidential nomination in 1908 (which he ultimately received).
Monday, August 21, 2023
SOME THINGS TO PONDER
The following were sent to me by John P.
Whether you agree with them or not, there is material there to think about . . .
Sunday, August 20, 2023
POETRY SPOT
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Henry Lawson (1867-1922)
The following poem, Since Then, by Henry Lawson illustrates how both the world, and relationships and friendships, move on. Meeting friends from the past does not equate to resuming the same friendships as in those bygone days.
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Slim Dusty put the poem to music.
Hear Slim sing the poem by clicking on:
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Since Then
Henry Lawson, 1895
I met Jack Ellis in town to-day —
Jack Ellis — my old mate, Jack —
Ten years ago, from the Castlereagh,
We carried our swags together away
To the Never-Again, Out Back.
But times have altered since those old days,
And the times have changed the men.
Ah, well! there's little to blame or praise —
Jack Ellis and I have tramped long ways
On different tracks since then.
His hat was battered, his coat was green,
The toes of his boots were through,
But the pride was his! It was I felt mean —
I wished that my collar was not so clean,
Nor the clothes I wore so new.
He saw me first, and he knew 'twas I —
The holiday swell he met.
Why have we no faith in each other? Ah, why? —
He made as though he would pass me by,
For he thought that I might forget.
He ought to have known me better than that,
By the tracks we tramped far out —
The sweltering scrub and the blazing flat,
When the heat came down through each old felt hat
In the hell-born western drought.
The cheques we made and the shanty sprees,
The camps in the great blind scrub,
The long wet tramps when the plains were seas,
And the oracles worked in days like these
For rum and tobacco and grub.
Could I forget how we struck 'the same
Old tale' in the nearer West,
When the first great test of our friendship came —
But — well, there's little to praise or blame
If our mateship stood the test.
'Heads!' he laughed (but his face was stern) —
'Tails!' and a friendly oath;
We loved her fair, we had much to learn —
And each was stabbed to the heart in turn
By the girl who — loved us both.
Or the last day lost on the lignum plain,
When I staggered, half-blind, half-dead,
With a burning throat and a tortured brain;
And the tank when we came to the track again
Was seventeen miles ahead.
Then life seemed finished — then death began
As down in the dust I sank,
But he stuck to his mate as a bushman can,
Till I heard him saying, 'Bear up, old man!'
In the shade by the mulga tank.
He took my hand in a distant way
(I thought how we parted last),
And we seemed like men who have nought to say
And who meet — 'Good-day', and who part — 'Good-day',
Who never have shared the past.
I asked him in for a drink with me —
Jack Ellis — my old mate, Jack —
But his manner no longer was careless and free,
He followed, but not with the grin that he
Wore always in days Out Back.
I tried to live in the past once more —
Or the present and past combine,
But the days between I could not ignore —
I couldn't help notice the clothes he wore,
And he couldn't but notice mine.
He placed his glass on the polished bar,
And he wouldn't fill up again;
For he is prouder than most men are —
Jack Ellis and I have tramped too far
On different tracks since then.
He said that he had a mate to meet,
And 'I'll see you again,' said he,
Then he hurried away through the crowded street
And the rattle of buses and scrape of feet
Seemed suddenly loud to me.
Note:
Some versions omit a last verse, as does Slim Dusty’s lyrics, that vrese being:
And I almost wished that the time were come
When less will be left to Fate —
When boys will start on the track from home
With equal chances, and no old chum
Have more or less than his mate.
I prefer it without the added last verse.
Your view?
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Saturday, August 19, 2023
QUOTE FOR THE DAY
"Everything I ever learnt as a small boy came from my father, and I never found anything he ever told me to be wrong or worthless. The simple lessons he taught me are as sharp and clear in my mind as if I had heard them only yesterday."
Huw Morgan in the film How Green Was My Valley
FOURTH TOP 10 + 2
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Here is the first instalment of the next Top 10 + 2, the fourth of such lists.
As I have I have previously posted, my Top 10 + 2 films is based on “watchability”, those films which you (meaning me) like to watch more than once and enjoy thoroughly for whatever reasons. Hence Groundhog Day was on the list, Citizen Kane is not, at least in my case never having had the urge to watch Citizen Kane more than once. My friend Steve cringes at my choices and saw fit last week to groan at my selection of Groundhog Day but I like it and have watched it numerous times. Howe many times have you watched Fellini’s 81/2 Steve?
The reason my first list was called Top 10 + 2 was that I had difficulty whittling the list down to 10. That list,, with comments and not in order of any priority, was:
Zulu
Groundhog Day
12 Angry Men
Godfather
Rat Race
Sin City
Chicago
Pleasantville
Runaway Train
Blues Brothers
Blade Runner
Full Metal Jacket
Sometime later I posted my Second Top 10 + 2:
42nd Street
Soldier
The Castle
Captains Courageous
Goodbye Mr Chips
Love Actually
Rollerball
Life of Brian
Judgment at Nuremberg
Down Periscope
O Brother, Where Art Thou?
Jeremiah Johnson
This was followed by my third Top 10 + 2:
Breakfast Club
The Enemy Below
The Searchers
The Quiet Man
Forrest Gump
Midnight Sting
Once Upon a Time in the West
Shawshank Redemption
Kill Bill
A Night at the Opera
Casablanca
Titanic
So today begins my Fourth Top 10 + 2, future instalments to come.
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How Green Was My Valley
I love the old black and white films from the 1940’s, especially the Brit ones.
So it is funny that this 1941 film, set in Wales and starring a host of UK actors, is an American film directed by the great American film director John Ford (1894-1973), the winner of 6 Oscars including 4 for directing, one of those being for this film. American Darryl F Zanuck produced the film and it was scripted by Phillip Dunne from a 1939 best selling book by Richard Llewellyn, who was British born and of Welsh descent. It was filmed in California.
How Green Was My Valley was nominated for ten Academy Awards, winning five, famously beating Citizen Kane, Sergeant York and The Maltese Falcon for Best Picture. Other Oscars included Donald Crisp for: Best Supporting Actor and Arthur Miller for Best Cinematography.
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If you haven’t seen it, you can watch the full movie for free on YouTube. Click on the following link:
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What it’s about:
Not wanting to give away too much, I will simply say that this is the story of a family, the Morgans, who live in a Welsh coal-mining town. The story is told through the eyes of the youngest son, Huw (played by a 12-year old Roddy MacDowall). The father and four oldest sons of the Morgans all work in the colliery, the lifeblood of the town and the source of pain, ill-will and death. The film also shows the relationships between the people in the town, how they develop and change.
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Cast:
The principal actors are Walter Pidgeon (Canadian-American), Maureen O'Hara (Irish born, naturalised American), Anna Lee (British), Donald Crisp (English), and a very young Roddy McDowall (British)
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Some facts and trivia:
- The title of the film comes from the fact that the valley in which Huw had grown up is no longer the beautiful green valley it once was. The valley and its villages are now blackened by the dust of the coal mines that surround the area. The film begins with a monologue by an older Huw: "I am packing my belongings in the shawl my mother used to wear when she went to the market. And I'm going from my valley. And this time, I shall never return."
- Huw: "There is no fence nor hedge around time that is gone. You can go back and have what you like of it, if you can remember. So I can close my eyes on my valley as it is today, and it is gone, and I see it as it was when I was a boy. Green it was, and possessed of the plenty of the Earth. In all Wales, there was none so beautiful. Everything I ever learned as a small boy came from my father and I never found anything he ever told me to be wrong or worthless. The simple lessons he taught me are as sharp and clear in my mind as if I had heard them only yesterday. In those days, the black slag, the waste of the coal pits, had only begun to cover the sides of our hill. Not yet enough to mar the countryside, nor blacken the beauty of our village, for the colliery had only begun to poke its skinny black fingers through the green."
- An older Huw also states:"Men like my father cannot die. They are with me still, real in memory as they were in flesh, loving and beloved forever. How green was my valley then."
- Roddy McDowall had only been in the United States for two weeks before being cast in the leading role of Huw. He had been evacuated from the UK with his mother and sister to keep out of harm's way during the Blitz.
- John Ford often referred to this film as his favourite.
- 150 builders took six months to construct Richard Day's elaborate set design. The mining village set cost $110,000 to construct and was modelled on the towns of Cerrig Ceinnen and Clydach, Cwmtawe. The studio brought in blocks of coal weighing over a ton apiece for the construction of the mines. To create the impression that coal slag covered the landscape in the opening and closing scenes, John Ford had the hillside painted black.
- Sara Allgood was the only actor who gave John Ford any trouble. At one point, she complained that a scene they were about to shoot wouldn't play. Ford called writer Philip Dunne to the set and relayed her opinion to him. Having worked with Ford before, Dunne knew what to do. He ripped the scene out of the script and said, "Now it plays!" Then Ford turned to Allgood and said, "The sonofabitching writer won't do anything to help us, so we'll have to shoot it the way he wrote it."
- The songs sung by the male voices are all authentic Welsh tunes. The song sung at the opening is "Men of Harlech", which was also used as the rallying cry for the Welsh soldiers defending against a Zulu attack in "Zulu" (1964).
- The filning was carried out in Southern California due to the continuous bombing of Britain by the Luftwaffe and the nervousness of Fox executives about the film's pro-union story line.
- The film was shot in black and white because the malibu countryside and the colour of flowers in Southern California did not match the colours of Wales. I for one cannot imagine this film as being anything other than in black and white and I would hate to see it ever colourised.
- In 1939, Frank Capra was the first person to win 3 Academy Awards for Best Director. John Ford tied this record for this film and won a 4th for "The Quiet Man" - a record that still stands in 2022.
- How Green Was My Valley has been the subject of criticism in Wales, especially since Richard Llewellyn’s claims to base the novel on how own life and experiences have been debunked. In fact, he had not been to Wales and based his book on what he had been told by Welsh families.
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Some movie pics and stills:
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If I haven’t convinced you yet to watch it, then I encourage you to do so, otherwise I will tell Steve who you are and that you love Groundhog Day.
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Friday, August 18, 2023
REMEMBERING HEROES
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The stories behind the names on the signs at the rest stops on the Remembrance Driveway, which goes from Sydney to Canberra.
The highway commemorates persons awarded the Victoria Cross by naming rest stops after them.
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The Victoria Cross (VC) is the highest and most prestigious award for gallantry in the face of the enemy that can be awarded to British and Commonwealth forces
The VC was introduced on 29 January 1856 by Queen Victoria to honour acts of valour during the Crimean War. The metal used to make every Victoria Cross medal has been made from cannons captured by the British at the siege of Sevastopol.
It may be awarded to a person of any military rank in any service and to civilians under military command. No civilian has received the award since 1879.
Australia was the first Commonwealth country to create its own VC, on 15 January 1991. Although it is a separate award, its appearance is identical to its British counterpart.
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JOHN EDMONDSON, VC
John Edmondson (1914-1941), c 1941Studio portrait of Corporal John Hurst Edmondson VC, the first Australian to be awarded the Victoria Cross in World War II. He was posthumously awarded the VC for his actions on 13 April, 1941 in Tobruk, Libya.
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Location of rest stop:
Federal Highway at Rose’s Lagoon, Collector NSW
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Background:
On 20 May 1940 Edmondson enlisted in the 2/17th Battalion after serving with the 4th Militia Battalion since March 1939. He was promoted to corporal. After training at Ingleburn and Bathurst, his battalion embarked for the Middle East on 19 October 1940 as reinforcements for the 9th Division. After desert training, his division relieved the 6th Australian Division at Marsa Brega in Cyrenaica on 9 March 1941.
On 31 March, the German forces under the command of General Erwin Rommel mounted an attack on the Australian and British positions, forcing them to retreat. The 9th Division took up new positions outside the port of Tobruk and on 11 April, the now famous siege began.
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Victoria Cross citation:
The announcement and accompanying citation for the decoration was published in supplement to the London Gazette on 1 July 1941, reading:
War Office, 1st July, 1941.The KING has been graciously pleased to approve the posthumous award of the VICTORIA CROSS to:—No. 15705 Corporal John Hurst Edmondson, Australian Military Forces.On the night of 13th–14th April, 1941, a party of German infantry broke through the wire defences at Tobruk, and established themselves with at least six machine guns, mortars and two small field pieces. It was decided to attack them with bayonets, and a party consisting of one officer, Corporal Edmondson and five privates, took part in the charge. During the counter-attack Corporal Edmondson was wounded in the neck and stomach but continued to advance under heavy fire and killed one enemy with his bayonet. Later, his officer had his bayonet in one of the enemy and was grasped about the legs by him, when another attacked him from behind. He called for help, and Corporal Edmondson, who was some yards away, immediately came to his assistance and in spite of his wounds, killed both of the enemy. This action undoubtedly saved his officer's life.'Shortly after returning from this successful counter-attack, Corporal Edmondson died of his wounds. His actions throughout the operations were outstanding for resolution, leadership and conspicuous bravery.
An hour later, 200 German infantrymen attacked the post, forcing the Australians to withdraw, and established a bridgehead in the outer defensive line. However, the fierceness of the platoon's defence pressured Rommel into diverting troops from his main attack. The attack failed, with the German tanks being mauled and forced to retreat with heavy casualties.
Corporal John Edmondson died of his wounds and is buried in the Tobruk war cemetery.
He was the first Australian to receive the Victoria Cross in the war.
Edmondson's VC was presented to his mother by the Governor-General on 27 September 1941. In 1969, she presented her son's medals and some of his personal belongings to the Australian War Memorial, where they still are on display.
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Legacy:
His name is still honoured by:
- the John Edmondson VC Rest Area at Rose's Lagoon on the Remembrance Driveway from Sydney to Canberra;
- John Edmondson VC Memorial RSL Club, Liverpool, NSW;
- a plaque in the Walk of Honour in Baylis Street, in his birthplace of Wagga Wagga, NSW;
- the school hall in his former school, Hurlstone Agricultural High School, is named after him;
- a high school in the Horningsea Park district in NSW is named after him;
- the Sydney suburb of Edmondson Park, and Edmondson Street in the Sydney suburb of North Ryde, are named in his honour.
- Edmondson St in Campbell situated in Canberra, within 400m of the War Memorial is also named in his honour.
- Freemasons' Lodge Victoria Cross No. 928 of the United Grand Lodge of New South Wales and Australian Capital Territory (UGLNSWACT) which meets in Fairfield, NSW, was formed in honour of Cpl J H Edmondson, who was posted to Holsworthy Army Barracks, and who was an attending member of Liverpool Lodge.
- The Edmondson VC Club at ARTC Kapooka, an outer suburb of Wagga Wagga, is also named in his honour.
John Edmonson Memorial Park images:
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Mother’s letter:
Read John Edmondson’s mother’s letter of appreciation to those who had written to her, by clicking on:
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Gallery:
The grave of NX15705 Corporal John Hurst Edmondson VC, of the 2/17th Australian Infantry Battalion, Tobruk War Cemetery
John Edmondson (far right) with his fellow platoon members in the Libyan desert.
John Edmondson’s mother and father at Admiralty House, on the posthumous presentation of John Edmonson’s VC, which Mrs Edmonson is folding.
Australian soldiers man frontline trenches on the defensive perimeter at Tobruk.
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War Memorial at Collector:
From:
Places of Pride
About 55 kilometres north Canberra lies the small village of Collector. The War Memorial at Collector is a simple four-sided obelisk. Names are engraved on two sides, one of which is dedicated “Fallen in their country’s service”.Many of the 44 men who enlisted from Collector were related by birth or by marriage and include brothers and cousins. Like young men in so many rural communities, sometimes all the sons in a family enlisted. At times, the father too enlisted. All too often, they didn’t all return. The men from Collector were farmers, labourers, railway workers, graziers and numerous manual trades.Alfred and Eliza Noble only had two sons. The first, Alfred Laurence, died of wounds in March 1917, serving with the 35th Infantry Battalion of the Australian Imperial Force in France, having begun his service in the 55th Infantry Battalion. He is buried in the Cite Bonjean Military Cemetery at Armentieres in France. His brother Joshua was killed in September of the following year, whilst serving with the 55th Infantry Battalion in France. Both men had enlisted on the same day, although Joshua wasn’t sent to France until September 1916, three months after his brother. Their names are on the Collector memorial.The family name Sheridan features seven times on the memorial. Cousins Stanley, Harry and William all died. Light Horseman Stanley was killed in action at Gallipoli. Harry and William met their fates in France. The 1916/17 winter in France and Belgium was the harshest in over a generation and many men fell sick in those horrific conditions. Harry Sheridan contracted pneumonia in April 1917 and although hospitalised, died just eight days after admission. William Henry Sheridan was serving with the 35th Infantry Battalion at Villers-Bretonneux when he was killed in action on the 8th of August 1918. He lies in the Villers-Bretonneux Military Cemetery, Picardie, France.
Thirteen of the 44 men who had enlisted from Collector died, but Stanley Sheridan’s three brothers, Harold, John and Ernest, were among those who returned home. Harry Sheridan’s brother Fred also returned. The impact of the war on the small village was significant, with the death toll of those who had enlisted being twice the national average. Even those not directly related would have known many of those men who enlisted from Collector. Most of those who survived returned changed by their wartime experiences, and many left the district soon after their return.If we consider the relationships between those men, perhaps we can begin to imagine the community-wide grief the Collector War Memorial represents.Lest We Forget
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