Independence Day – Gippsland Edition

Living overseas has made us feel more, not less, American. The simple fact is that’s how people refer to us: "the Americans". In the US everyone is a Yank so you’re never introduced as “my American friend". But here that's the inevitable first impression and so when you meet someone you're immediately saddled with all the baggage, good and bad, of the United States. There's plenty of good, mind you. Everyone wants to share their stories of travelling to the US. But I can't tell you how many times people have expressed surprise at my thoughts or behavior because it is, in their mind, un-American; i.e., not wasteful, loud, and ignorant of the rest of the world. And we are also expected to explain or, sometimes, defend whatever US event makes the news. We also worry more about our behavior ("Was I inadvertently loud or rude like the stereotypical American tourist?") because we know what we do will color people's impressions of USA. In short, it's a daily fact of life that we must act as unofficial, unpaid ambassadors.

With that in mind, when invited back to the farm in Yarram over the July 4th weekend we offered to cook up a real American 4th of July BBQ spread for everyone. This was immediately accepted (what host in their right mind turns down the offer of the guest doing the cooking?) and we set out to show them just how tasty an event this could be.

Motoring down the Monash Freeway to Yarram on Friday after work, traffic conditions were just like I-35 heading north out of the Twin Cities on a Friday afternoon. Slooooow. But this left us plenty of time to consider the names of the towns along the way: Koo Wee Rup, Nar Nar Goon, Bunyip, Kurumburra, Noojee, Mount Baw Baw, Won Wron (one hit, no errors, no one left on base), and Moe (pronounced “mo-EE”).

No trip to Yarram is complete without some sort of drama from Matt. You may recall on the last trip Matt was shooting at empty beer cartons with the other guys when one rifle – the one with a particular kick –gave Matt a half moon scar on his forehead as a permanent reminder of the bush. This time the drama involved the “road”. The track up to Fay’s house is long, very steep, and windy. It’s unpaved and riddled with washouts, potholes and gullies.

ANYWAY, Matt got about 1/8th the way up and immediately slid into a narrow ditch on the side of the rode. Alas, the Commodore, for all her lovely virtues, does not have 4x4 clearance and we were stuck. As Matt started to walk up the ½ mile track to the house (using his cell phone as a flashlight), the people in the house realized we were missing and drove down to find us.

No worries. Fay called the RACV (the Victorian version of AAA) and “Baggsy” rocked up about 10 minutes later in his Ute to pull us out. Which took about 5 seconds. As thanks, Fay invited him in for a can of beer, which, being the typical Aussie bloke, Baggsy accepted. And being a typical Aussie bloke, he immediately fished his stubby holder (beer can cooler) out of his jacket pocket and awaited his VB. He later let slip it was his third one of the night – rescue and beer, we understand.

On Saturday afternoon a bunch of the local young farmers showed up in their 4x4s and Matt was invited out for a ride. Marlys did not see him depart and so was unaware of one important feature of the ride: it did not involve sitting in the cab of the 4x4, but standing in the bed of the pickup and holding onto the roll bar. Don’t worry, he received top notch safety instructions: “If it starts to roll, jump away from the roll. And go quick because if you’re slow everyone else will use you for leverage.” One has never lived until they’ve driven along washed out fire roads at 40 mph on the back of a pick up. The scenery was gorgeous (Matt saw a lyre bird, which is very rare) and although the Ute never rolled (some people seemed disappointed) Matt was sufficiently terrified to deem it a once in a lifetime experience.

Marlys (let’s be honest, she’s the chef and party planner) put on a fantastic BBQ. There were frankfurters, baked beans, potato salad with eggs, cole slaw, and 3-bean salad (note to self: cabbage, 2 bean dishes, eggs, and lots of pork products = an aromatic ride home). And in true O’Toole family tradition, our friend Dom ensured there was an American flag dessert. Afterward we all sat around a bonfire, lit sparklers and stayed up late talking and looking at the stars. This far out in the bush the constellations are unrecognizable because there are so many stars! The 4th couldn’t have been more perfect.

Crimson Rosellas. There were a dozen that hung around the house.

Dom's Flag Cupcakes