Fremantle: The Hole in the Ground

The sky is blue and the wind from the Indian Ocean blows over the sea front, balmy and fresh. Life is so sweet in this part of western Australia today.

But there is a large hole in the ground there. At least thirty feet down and years earlier it served a most diabolic purpose; human suffering of the most dastardly nature was permitted to be practised here. Thousands of human beings were rounded like cattle and thrown into this pit and imprisoned there like animals to await transfer by sea to perish in a desert island off shore.

White settlers to the newly founded country were in need of land to plant crops and rear livestock. They banded in armed groups, roamed the surrounding countryside and rounded all the aborigines they found there, dragged them to this pit. The land was then freed from its undesirable inhabitants and made available for use and exploitation of its mineral resources.

Memories of Mt. Tabor, New Jersey

That evening Bud, our friend living at Mt. Tabor, had dressed up to look like the Count Dracula it being Halloween. The children of the neighbourhood would soon be going around from house to house for Trick or Treat as was the American custom and tradition. The sky was dark and the wind was fresh but chilly; the fallen autumn leaves on the ground swirled around blowing hither and thither under the trees. In the near distance, across the park and downhill past the traffic lights junction to the row of shops, a train had just arrived from downtown Manhattan. Blowing its shrill whistle, it braked and came to a stop just behind the row of shops to discharge some homecoming passengers.

The Rattlesnake Restaurant, found at the end of the row of shops nearest the train halt, had already put on its lights and begun to open for the evening's business. We went and had dinner there one night when we were served passably good beef and swordfish steaks. Next to it was a Save on Food supermarket, catering for the senior citizens of the area, a real Indian cigar store,selling ice cream and the NJ lotteries,and a Korean family laundry, taking up the other end of the row.

There was a chill in the air signalling that winter would soon be here in this part of the country. And according to the weather report broadcast out of the favourite AM radio out of nearby Morristown, an early fall of snow was expected. In the park, the squirrels running up among the tree branches had already made their collection of nuts for the day and were scampering home beneath the autumn leaves.

Bud had collected a stockpile of wood for his specially made stove in the basement of his house to heat up the water for the central piping system to keep him snug and warm during the coming winter. An ironmonger and a highly skilled grille maker by profession he had turned his house into a veritable museum of grilles, trellises, iron tubs, pipes and bars, all beautifully designed and set in place within the house that were a marvel for his friends to see and admire.

We were on a visit to our daughter Jennifer, her husband Todd and son Evan who had a house close to the fire station by the park. Todd had been a volunteer at the fire station and saw some action with his fellow resident friends since giving his service there. But this summer, there wasn't any incident of fire in the neighbourhood and the huge fire engine had not been called out. Nevertheless, he and his friends had been kept fully trained and ready for any eventuality. A well stocked library could be found in an old cottage a little further beyond the fire station and the librarians there were quite busy looking after the books and publications for the use of the residents of the township.

Mt. Tabor is about ten miles west of Washington's first capital, Morristown and within walking distance to Denville. A road linking these two New Jersey towns passes between the park and the row of shop houses.
It is truly a lovely place to live in.