telecast grief

She thought about the Funeral, how bits from the telecast kept on straying through her mind unbidden all day. Even while she was teaching and watching The Piano with the students.

The evening before, she'd flopped onto her bed in the Bungalows* and watched TV because she'd been too tired and viral to do anything else.  She began by alternating between ABC News and Imparja's repeat telecast of the Funeral -- not that she needed to do a channel change at times -- and then, as she continued to watch the ABC, snippets from the Funeral were replayed in news bulletins and current affairs programs.  Until she felt as tho she'd watched the Funeral from woe to go.

The problem was that she was quite fascinated by the Funeral really, tho she felt it might be in bad taste to blog about it, because it involved other people's sadness and misfortune.  She also felt particularly sorry for people like Terri Irwin and Mr Irwin, having to be in the public spotlight at a time like this.

But nevertheless she was quite fascinated by the Funeral.  She enjoyed it more than what she'd seen of the Other Funeral, the perfect one, with its racing car number plates donated to Tobin's and its Wurundjuree smoking ceremony.  It was probably the convergence of so many bizarre elements that she enjoyed.  The Crocoseum. The khaki. The stars.  The blue wiggle as MC. 'Crikey' in yellow flowers.  Feeding time at the zoo (as she foretold in an earlier post, the animals were in attendance.  She imagined a meeting with Harriet the Tortoise at the Pearly Gates was on the cards). The fact that the PM would attend the non-State Funeral of an entrepreneur -- and manage to get in a speech about family values. The way that telecast grief, especially by link-up, didn't seem to work so well. The stars looked like they were rehearsing for their Oscar speeches. And Little Bindi... (wasn't the wobble board man's daughter also called Bindi? ) Well, she couldn't help but be impressed by the girl's composure and that someone from the immediate family had had enough sang-froid or chutz-pah or whatever to say something, but somehow it all seemed so terribly American.

But nevertheless she was quite fascinated by the Funeral, how it seemed to throw some of the worst aspects of Australian and American culture together.  At one stage, they interviewed a BBC journalist who said how they'd just had to be there and film it all, the BBC, because the British loved everything about Australia.  Of course the Poms would love the Funeral; they might even watch it with the same cringing fascination as she had, in their case because it was the kind of Heightened Australiana they mistook for Australia.

So, now she was blogging about it, in a cowardly third person kind of way. She was blogging in the seminar room as she didn't want to use a terminal in Admin, because of the endless war of attrition between academic and admin staff, neither of whom believed the other ever did any work.  And because it would mean sitting opposite the woman called Pru who really did talk like 'Pru and Trude' and who externalised all her thoughts, like a bad performance poet doing a Stream-of-Consciousness piece.

It was scary, sitting near the Stream-of-Consciousness woman and being reminded that yes, those Ugly Australians, so beloved by the British and other television audiences, really did exist.  And it was amazing, really, how blogging immediately made her feel a little less viral, whereas timetabling (which she was meant to be doing) didn't.

But now she knew of at least one person who liked 'True Blue'.  And that person was dead.

* N.B. Not the Guesthouse.

Comments

[Jude]

Tell her that she should remember it wasn't the actual Funeral she was watching, but the Memorial Service, and that it was held expressly for members of the public who had a need for that huge outpouring of sentiment - as well as a chance to express their grief.

Remind her that Irwin's family had attended a private funeral proper, earlier, and were accorded much respect for their choice in not accepting a State affair. I am sure they were happy with the media bonaza that yesterday became (Steve himself would have loved it!) and very glad that it was nothing like that truly apalling Other Funeral.

[Melly]

DON'T tell her that my daughter and I ended up sobbing on the sofa together and snotting all over tissues saying that poor little girl and we only managed to Boo Little Johnny in little voices cause we were busy being utterly utterly revolting. ME! Who always dismissed him as a lunatic who taught my kids how to milk cane toad poison.

I wonder if she cant get the rotten "True blue" tune outta her head this week now either?

[susoz]

Wow, thanks for blogging about this and in this way. You see, I had the same internal dilemma - could I blog about the awfulness of the funeral without looking tasteless. I decided to err on the side of caution as I wasn't as creative as you in thinking my way around the problem.
The Americanness of it was fascinating in an awful way.

[elsewhere]

She thought that the yarning around the campfire bit was probably the funeral to be at.

Nevertheless she couldn't help being intrigued by the notion of a funeral as wholesome, commercial family entertainment.

She was bemused by reports that the Croc Hunter had been buried on his own property. Would his grave be unveiled as a public memorial like Elvis's at Gracelands or Lady Di's Tennysonian island? Or would it be a top secret, undesignated location, somewhere in the wilds of Irwin's privately owned bushland?

She couldn't help thinking of that quote about Hemingway himself being the final game, tho it wasn't quite appropriate.

She felt Little Bindi would be orright, despite child psychologists' fears, because Bindi was just doing what she'd been brought up to do and she was probably exhibiting the phenomenon of Childhood Resilience Bounceback, seen in very young, seriously ill patients (who don't understand the full implications of what's happened to them).

Really, she remained sorry for poor old Steve's Dad and Terri and the sense of collapse they would feel once the media hype was over and they had to Face the Vacuum.

[tigtog]

Thanks, elsewhere, for this. I couldn't wrap my head around it to attempt to blog it, but I think you've nailed a lot of the elements that were individually weird yet still somehow worked, for this memorial, for this person.

[Kate]

What she said.