Living in the 70's

This blog thing seems to be falling way down on my list of things to do. It shouldn't even be on my list of things to do, cos if it feels like a chore then what's the point, right? And because I hate it when people have blogs and never actually update them, I start feeling guilty if I don't post regularly. It's not a good cycle to get into. Blogging should be fun or therapeutic or both.

On that note I'm going to post (yes, a real post!) about family history, because it's something I've been thinking about since my birthday, when I was going to write about what my parents were doing when they were my age. Then I realised that I didn't even know! My natural instinct was to research them on the net - like I could somehow look up their biography on Wikipedia or something (technically I could put them on Wikipedia, though there may be a slight problem with citation of supporting material).

Anyway that kinda shocked me, I mean where's our sense of family history? Family stories play such a big part in shaping identity, helping us feel connected to family and culture. It made me realise how little I really know about the story of my parents. In fact I probably couldn't write more than a vague biography about their lives thus far.

So one of my goals this year is to learn more about my parent's past, as a way to learn more about them and about me, I guess. It is hard to see them as people and not just parents. To get past all the family baggage that has accumulated from years of bad habits (hang on, I think I've posted about this before.) So perhaps this will help.

At least now I know what my parents were doing when they were my age.

When she was 28 my mum was living in Yogyakarta with her family. It was 1971. She had finished her economics degree and was working in an office, which she loved. She had a boyfriend (not my father) which was kind of serious (I think). She liked making her own clothes.


Here she is (far right) having a picnic with friends.

At her desk in the office - typewriting!


When my dad was 28 he was living in Indonesia, researching and writing about Indonesian politics and history for his PhD from ANU (I think!) It was 1974, and he was living with a local homestay family, completely emmersing himself in the language and culture. He didn't have a girlfriend, but not long after that he met my mum (they married in 1976). He had a big red beard, and wore batik shirts and flares.


Researching (with man standing to attention in background).



My dad's homestay family (photo taken by him.)