Our Competition

New Zealand Journal of Agriculture, Volume 65, Issue 5, 16 November 1942, Page 315

Our Competition

MILESTONES

WHAT a host of interesting memories this competition has disturbed! As I read your entries I could see you looking back over the years, wondering which milestone has marked the most vital turning point of your life. The entry submitted by “Liberty,” of Gisborne, could easily have been submitted by many others, and it is because of its appeal that I have awarded it first prize. “Roundabout,” King Country, comes a close second, and highly commended we have “Laurel,” of Feilding.

First Prize TURN the pages slowly will find all the milestones here: it is a large black book, with “photographs” in gilt lettering on the cover. Look .at her, a lovely bride in white satin and orange blossoms. So shy, so sweet and so very happy. This is the first big milestone in her life. And a snap of her first home, a little snug place, full of dreams. Linger a little at the wee corners; afternoon tea on the lawn, the proud husband pushing the lawn mower. And what is this? - The bride again, with a baby in her arms. A big milestone this, and still that look of radiant happiness. All the next pages are full of small milestones: the baby in long clothes, now a christening robe, now short ones. Here he is showing his first teeth in a wide grin and just look at him staggering on his feet for the first time!

And the next one. He is going to school for the first time and the mother is on her knees saying good-bye. The little fellow’s arms are around her neck, and his new school bag shines in the sun. Such a big milestone thisno wonder mother looks a wee bit anxious. . ;

Turn the pages again— and then high school. Finally you turn them again and find—not a schoolboy any longer, but a soldier. He has gone overseas and is fighting for her, that starry-eyed bride, now his mother, who is Me. It is a big milestone this, and his father and I know lonely moments.. But it is a Milestone in the nation’s life too; a turning point, a vital moment. You smile through the mist that gathers in your eyes and over the radio there comes a song which is

a breath 'of comfort, a re-assurance, granting you . a moment’s, compensation for your loss. You listen and press your husband’s hand in silent understanding. While you have something vital to give, a Milestone where you stand and wait, you know. “There’ll always be an England” and England will be — Liberty, Gisborne. Second Prize I WONDER how many of us realise that in spite of each life being so different, we each and all of us . really travel the same road to the ultimate goal? The milestones we pass en route are the flags or emblems of achievement and once past we look back with fond memory, but seldom wish to retrace our steps, for with each of life’s varied experiences, we feel that we have achieved some little part of our purpose in being part of this wonderful world. < In my case, schooldays were milestones each year when I stepped into a new class and later I was deep in the interest of trying to teach others. Yet soon these days went and I entered the sphere of matrimony, which I think is the biggest milestone of all, for in adapting oneself to this life, both of the contracting parties have so much to give and take that it indeed stands forth as an important milestone of Life. The next most vital milestone, to me, is the birth of children. It was not until I had my first baby and realised all that it meant of responsibility and love, that I was face to face with the reality of what parents stand for in this world of ours. Until one is a parent, one is too apt to take one’s’ own parents too much for granted and apart from loving them dearly, one needs the wisdom of the years to show their worth. Yes, my biggest and' proudest milestone is “Home,” and many of you will be familiar with that old song “Where the milestones end, there’s home.” Roundabout, King Country. Highly Commended I HAVE been pondering over the milestones in my life and remem-

bered those that we counted on the railway journeys of school holidays. I recall some divinely happy milestones as well as some still poignantly sad ones, but we all have these memories which we do not want to'share. This is an everyday sort of milestone, but what a difference it made to life: it was the coming, of electricity to our district. When I came to live in the remote country I did not realise how I should miss the lights and electric iron of my girlhood home. It took me

months to stop rubbing the walls, feeling for light switches that were many miles away. I think I was a little afraid of kerosene lamps, but in time I learned how to keep my lamps filled and shining, and could easily cope with broken globes, smoky wicks and troublesome moths. Candles—how I dislike them! And when I read glowing descriptions of beautifully appointed dining tables, adorned with softly burning candles, I cannot work up any enthusiasm, as where there are candles there’s bound to be grease spots in

the most unexpected places. Still I must allow the humble candle its uses, as recently my bedside lamp fused, so it was lights out for the household and candles came to the rescue. Next morning, with husband away and being miles from town, I turned off the main switch and put in a new fuse wire, Everything went well, and I was able to do my ironing and listen to my favourite radio speaker. I’d never been courageous enough to do that before, so was that another milestone, Mary?— Laurel, Feilding.

THE two events in my life which stand out as milestones always make me pause to wonder where my lot would have been cast had they not happened. The first is tinged with sadness and marks the death of my mother while I was still in my teens. All thoughts of a planned teaching career had to be abandoned and instead, I had to undertake the care of a young sister and a home on the backcountry sheep farm. I had little practical knowledge of the new task which lay ahead of me and it must have presented many problems at times. A diary of those days would make very interesting reading now, but I think I must have been too busy to even think of keeping a diary. Thirteen years later marks another milestone, and although it meant a break away from home and earned then the disapproval of a very stern parent, nevertheless it brought me every happiness and no regrets. My housekeeping duties were able to be left in capable hands and as I had answered the call of duty when, it was most needed, I felt that I had earned the right to spread my wings. I went north to spend a holiday with a friend and from there ventured further afield. Suitable work came my way and later marriage, with a home of my own. I have been very happily married now for several years, and it is interesting turning back the pages of memory and seeing just how these milestones were connected. G., North Canterbury. “ A H! Could I be once more a Careys less child!” These words of Coleridge’s remind me of a certain milestone in my life, way back in pioneering days, when my fatherstouthearted pioneer indeedtook up a big section of land (then virgin bush) in the backblocks of Taranaki. And with him went my mother and eight young children —one of whom was myself. Fifteen miles of mud roador clay road as it is called nowadays—of it a rough bridle track to the nearest small settlement. . . . The hardships of those days—and yet we were so happy! Not the restless, impatient happiness of modern childhood, but. something very deep and satisfying. We literally made our own happiness and certainly a more contented family would be hard to find. This is why that particular milestone always seems so fraught with a poignant happiness, never again to be recaptured. A. M. Dowell, Taranaki.