Shoefiti and me

I don’t know how long they’ve been there. But I first saw them some months ago. High above the streetfront of Mole Creek’s Fire Station. Suspended on power lines. A pair of sports shoes. Tied together by their laces. I don’t know why someone tossed them up there. I don’t know who it was. And neither do my Fire Brigade mates. The shoes have stayed there. Even during the 16 September gale [1]. Every time I go to, or past, the Fire Station I look up to see if they’re still there. And they are. The power company, Aurora Energy, hasn’t bothered to remove them. For me those shoes have remained an enigma. But as Violet Fane wrote: ‘Ah, all things come to those who wait’ [2]. In last Tuesday’s Age, an piece by writer Toni Jordan [3] validated my perplexity about sports shoes hanging from power lines, provided some causal theories, and even disclosed its name: shoefiti. A google search on ‘shoefiti’ revealed thousands of citations [4]– including a Wikipedia page [5], a shoefiti website [6], and a revelation – that should’ve been obvious to me, but wasn’t – that shoefiti’s a compound word derived from ‘shoe’ and ‘graffiti’ [7]. So shoefiti, like much in our fast moving and every morphing world, is something that’s been around for a while yet passed me by. Until recently. The question occurs to me that hypothetically had I known of shoefiti sooner, whether my life would’ve been any the better for it. Ho hum.

A Solomonian hypothetical

Solomon [1]. According to the Hebrew Bible he was a king of Israel, the son of King David, and the builder of the First Temple in Jerusalem. He reputedly had 700 wives and 300 concubines. But I write of him today because of his wisdom [2]. Especially the Judgement of Solomon [3] – regarding a scenario not amenable to compromise. Trees have been on my mind a lot lately. Notably the aftermath of the 16 September windstorm [4] including the collapsed woodpile [5]. Yesterday I read that a Dutch university study suggests wi-fi radiation may be harming trees [6, 7, 8]. The researchers say their results are inconclusive and merit further study. But of course those with a big stake in debunking this inchoate causal association have lost no time in debunking it – even without criticising the Dutch research methodology [9]. But let’s for a moment imagine wi-fi radiation does indeed damage, and kill, trees. And no tree on our planet is immune from such damage and death. In that case, mankind would have to choose: wi-fi or trees. Because wi-fi and trees is not an option. It’s a scenario not amenable to compromise. A clear Judgement of Solomon matter. A decision must be made – because not choosing is the same as choosing wi-fi. But King Solomon, who legend has it is the wisest person who ever lived, is long since dead. What will happen? What would you choose? Me? I’d choose trees. Undoubtedly.

I love my land

Devastation. Mayhem. Havoc. Chaos. They all happened last Thursday. Winds of 140 km/hour lashed Tasmania [1, 2]. Including our property. For hours and hours. At home I could hear trees crashing. All morning I was too scared to venture outdoors. Mid-afternoon I went out – as I had to feed hay, collect mail, and feed Sharon’s dogs. Our driveway was blocked by fallen trees, so I walked. And I heard, and saw, more trees crashing down. As I walked east to the post office, the westerly tailgail was so strong I had trouble keeping my footing. Roofing iron flew through the air. And I was worried about electricity wires coming down on me. By the time I walked home, more trees had fallen on the driveway. Once home I stayed home. That night I lay awake listening to the wind howl. At 4 a.m. Friday it quietened. Then I slept for a few hours. On Friday morning I walked all the fencelines. See some photographs here [3]. On Saturday morning my neighbour Todd’s father Daryl cleared the road. How kind of him to help me like that. The rest will take months to clear up. Maybe years. But at least I’m safe. And my house and Pete [4] are unscathed. How do I feel? Bereft. Distraught. Empty. Brokenhearted. I love my land. And its trees. Some fallen trees were over 100 years old. I know I’m not personally to blame for what happened. But what happened I feel personally.