The good old days

In these modern, fast-moving times when tranquillity seems rare, or anachronistic, those of us who have a number of years of life's experience behind us, sometimes look back and compare today with its counterpart of yesteryear.

Customs, habits, lifestyles, even fashions, have changed, slowly but steadily from the times of my childhood.

Lest these comments appear to be a nostalgic apology for a return to the past, let me say strongly, that I love the present and all of the developments that technology and emerging cultures bring to it. My life now is joyously brilliant and foreshadows the rapid, exciting and awesome changes to come. I am enthused by every new development, even though I may have to strive intellectually to stay on top of its understanding

I am young (or old) enough to have lived through some of the most stirring innovations which transitioned society from a seemingly calmer, more leisurely, more traditional way of life to our modern, more self-sufficient, culturally, politically, reasoning independent existence.

One factor which I love is the makeup of today's Australian society, thanks to our strong immigration moves.

My partner is Asian, something which would have been "unthinkable" as a child in a 1940's nation comprising an almost totally white Anglo-Celtic populace, yet which was becoming aware of other national values and traditions as thousands fled from war-ravaged countries to make a new home here, and brought their foods and lifestyles with them.

Yet it was interesting to observe how many societal customs were similar, or even the same, amongst the vast range of nationalities. This fact was obviously embodied in the experience I am recounting at the end of this article.

I muse of things such as when modern air travel was in a Douglass DC-3, courtesy of TAA or Ansett, the railways were still powered by steam, and the growth of the valve radio (or "wireless) into the radiogram, then its supplanting by transistor technology meant that power points were no longer critical to electronic entertainment, with the huge advantage of portability.

In my late youth, television began, and I remember Bruce Gyngell's welcoming Australia's newest media audience to this new exciting creation. His effect must have been very influential on me, because I moved from radio and went to work for him (and his benevolently despotic boss, Sir Frank Packer).

Prior to my deciding on a technical and creative career in radio, I did the customary five years of high school during which time I was given a good grounding in English, its grammar, structure and etymology.

English education is another development which I worry has not ridden the changes well, with its seemingly lessened practice of teaching knowledge about this science of communication.

Parsing, analysis, grammar, and comprehension are all skills which I was force-fed during my school days, and for which I am eternally grateful today.

I also absorbed societal mores by a kind of osmosis, yet still bridled a little at having to dress properly for dinner, a ritual which would mostly be totally out of place in today's domestic realm.

Yes, we carried over many of the British formalities and etiquette into our Aussie lives, probably because our parents were not that far removed in time from the traditions of their own forebears.

This was in the 1950's, when country NSW seemed even more a place of slow transition from bygone ways to what was then city modernity.

I used to take delight in driving through much of it during school holidays with my father, who was a sales representative for a twine and cord manufacturer. His work took him to rural areas where there was a good market for ropes and baling twine in the hay production, and flour milling industries.

These agricultural businesses were normally in, or close to, major country towns where pubs not only provided much sought after daily hospitality, but also a reasonable standard of overnight accommodation for the many travellers of that post-war era; motels had yet to evolve.

Commerce was getting on its feet again, as was the gradually developing tourist trade, helped, no doubt, by the increasing affordability of cars, but one aspect tended to remain in the past permanently - that of the layout, style, presentation, and naming, of hotels.

My memories are of the dozens of Railways, Imperials, Civics, Excelsiors, Centrals, Royals, and Occidentals of the time, many with the pungent smokiness of wood-fuelled kitchens and lounge room fireplaces wafting over their roofs.

A highlighting commonality was that of their Victorian-era dining rooms.

These were usually traditionally formal settings of rich timber wall panelling, set amidst shaded lights, shining smooth wooden floors, small dining tables, complete with crisp white linen tablecloths, faultlessly folded serviettes, sparkling silver cutlery, shining water carafes with their equally gleaming glasses, and iconic chairs of curved wood.

On a memorable evening at one such hotel in a smallish central western country town where we had decided to stay overnight, my father had downed a beer, and I a lemonade in its briskly trading bar, before moving into the traditional dining room for dinner.

The aura in that space was one of quiet conversation, as the well-dressed guests prepared for the evening meal, their tones hushed to match the ambience of the setting.

At one end of the room, two waitresses, clad in black frocks with meticulously starched aprons, and white caps on their flawlessly groomed hair, moved quietly to bring steaming cauldrons from the kitchen, and place them on a serving table. The feeling was of a promise of gentility in the complete dining experience

Then my dream was shattered, as one of these ladies turned to face the seated guests, and in a piercing voice commanded: "All youse that want soup, put yez 'ands up!"

Perhaps nostalgia is not all that I would wish.