Carmel 5oth Anniversary Reunion
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חמַרְמֹרֶת
It was an at times emotional reunion of ex Carmel School students at Moshav Olesh. Perth’s version of Moriah College or Mount Scopus College was established some 50 years ago and the jubilee has been reason enough to justify a string of celebrations, reaching as far as Israel.
It was a diverse collection of people that met in the mottled shade of the wizened mulberries in the courtyard of the Deutch meshek. There were representatives from the earliest miniscule Carmel School classes, to former teachers, to founding fathers/mothers of the school, to graduates born after I’d made aliyah and whom I wouldn’t know from a bar of soap. There were even some entire family units who’d emigrated from Perth over the years.
A do like this can be an excuse to catch up on people you’ve lost touch with for years. It’s that and more. There’s that nostalgic aspect but there’s also that slightly sinister side to these sort of functions. Hiss. Snarl. (Well maybe just a little bit.) Let’s be honest. Just for a moment. The narcissistic ogre inside every reality show viewer,always trying to out, keeps asking that ill-bred question , “How well have you been keeping up with the Jones?”
But all that’s of negligible significance. In fact it’s talking with someone potentially on the vulnerable side, which takes you beyond that regular cocktail banter, to some place where you’re thinking and feeling outside the box. After all its that quality that I like about Australians. We’re more down to earth than your usual garden-variety ethnic subculture. It’s probably that multicultural, fair go, ethos from down under, which dampens our innate snobbery and allows for the majority of people to follow their own fate and aspirations without us getting too judgemental and self-righteous about other peoples vagaries.
One point of interest for me was that nearly all the male participants had donned kipot, something almost nobody did in public in the Perth Hebrew Congregation of the 1960’s. Things change.
Unfortunately for me and for some of the other older veterans, Michael Singer, the school’s second headmaster couldn’t make it to the party, but did send warm words on an old fashioned cassette. He’s convalescing and hopefully will return to full health. Mr Singer’s soft-spoken manner, non-competitive values and nonaggressive Jewish education left an indelible imprint on the lives of many of us both spiritually and academically. His Londoner’s perspective and retrospective on the tiny and comfortable Perth Jewish community of the 60’s rang true word for word. It’s hard to imagine that without the foresight of a small bunch of parents setting up a Jewish kindergarten and day school the Jewish community would have survived the comfort and ensuing complacency afforded by the easygoing Australian political culture and lifestyle.
It was a diverse collection of people that met in the mottled shade of the wizened mulberries in the courtyard of the Deutch meshek. There were representatives from the earliest miniscule Carmel School classes, to former teachers, to founding fathers/mothers of the school, to graduates born after I’d made aliyah and whom I wouldn’t know from a bar of soap. There were even some entire family units who’d emigrated from Perth over the years.
A do like this can be an excuse to catch up on people you’ve lost touch with for years. It’s that and more. There’s that nostalgic aspect but there’s also that slightly sinister side to these sort of functions. Hiss. Snarl. (Well maybe just a little bit.) Let’s be honest. Just for a moment. The narcissistic ogre inside every reality show viewer,always trying to out, keeps asking that ill-bred question , “How well have you been keeping up with the Jones?”
But all that’s of negligible significance. In fact it’s talking with someone potentially on the vulnerable side, which takes you beyond that regular cocktail banter, to some place where you’re thinking and feeling outside the box. After all its that quality that I like about Australians. We’re more down to earth than your usual garden-variety ethnic subculture. It’s probably that multicultural, fair go, ethos from down under, which dampens our innate snobbery and allows for the majority of people to follow their own fate and aspirations without us getting too judgemental and self-righteous about other peoples vagaries.
One point of interest for me was that nearly all the male participants had donned kipot, something almost nobody did in public in the Perth Hebrew Congregation of the 1960’s. Things change.
Unfortunately for me and for some of the other older veterans, Michael Singer, the school’s second headmaster couldn’t make it to the party, but did send warm words on an old fashioned cassette. He’s convalescing and hopefully will return to full health. Mr Singer’s soft-spoken manner, non-competitive values and nonaggressive Jewish education left an indelible imprint on the lives of many of us both spiritually and academically. His Londoner’s perspective and retrospective on the tiny and comfortable Perth Jewish community of the 60’s rang true word for word. It’s hard to imagine that without the foresight of a small bunch of parents setting up a Jewish kindergarten and day school the Jewish community would have survived the comfort and ensuing complacency afforded by the easygoing Australian political culture and lifestyle.
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