I name you Bronze-wing – OR – Lennie the larrikin

This morning I walked along the tracks through Aussie bush not far from our house. 

There are all sorts of creatures living there and I love to stop and see if I can spot whatever it is that is creating rustling noises not far from the track. There are goannas, snakes, birds, lizards, echidnas (though I have never had the luck to see one of those), and the occasional wallaby.

Today, there was a rather large bird pecking about near the dry creek. I could not identify it – a stranger.

As I walked back that way, two of them flew up and into the trees not far away. I was lucky to meet a man and his wife just then. They identified the birds as bronze-wing pigeons. Beautiful people, those people, friendly and kind. The birds are rather dull-coloured, though apparently if the sun shines on the bronze, it is beautiful. To me it was a beautiful experience, though – bringing back absolutely beautiful memories, and the feeling of something clicking into place.

When I was a little girl, growing up in the country, there was a young man – a “bit of a character” – who had a perfectly chosen nick-name for everyone in the district. Mine … because of my own name, Bronwyn, was “bronze-wing”. He was a bit of larrikin, but well-liked, and occasionally, my family would refer to me as bronze-wing, or remind me that that was the name Lennie had given me, always with humorous respect for him and with tender love for me.

I don’t remember ever meeting or being shown a bronze-wing pigeon then or since – until today. It was just Lennie’s lovely nick-name, and it brings back memories of those days – images, scents, sounds, and the pervading feeling of love. Click!

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Bronze-wing : Part 2

Lennie, the larrikin.  Lennie the name-giver.

I think life was painful for Lennie.  

He did have a wonderful sense of humour, possibly it could be called a wicked sense of humour.  

I guess he could have been seen as wicked.  When we went back 10 years or so ago to the centenary of the primary school he and I attended, there were the records of the canings he was given – almost daily.  I don’t remember what misdemeanors he committed – possibly swearing …, but he probably made life difficult for the teachers.

I suspect he saw no relevance in school, or its operations.

He loved his car, I remember.  It burbled – certainly a V8.  I remember him arriving at a rodeo, driving slowly behind the cars parked around the rodeo ring, looking for a pace to stop, and creating a jaunty little change to the burble of his car as he passed, as a way of saying “hello”.

He grew up on a farm as we all did, but obviously had no desire to stay there.  He drove school buses for a while and then became a long distance truckie.  It must have a been a huge worry for his wife.  He was a diabetic, but rebelled against the stringent diet and exercise restrictions.

He was a person who questioned life and expressed his views with that special witty humour. Everyone  in that community, as far as I know, appreciated his wit.  He did have a sense of humour and there was often a twinkle in his eye, though also often a grimace.  I know he had the knack, whenever he saw me, of communicating both a question as to the most basic of my assumptions about myself and what I was doing, and, simultaneously, a feeling of love, respect and fellowship.

Funny.  Clever.  Different.  Irreverent.  Insightful.

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Today I have just read that the autopsy performed on Robin Williams showed no traces of drugs or alcohol.  The final indignity.  

But this, too, was a man who was funny, clever, different, irreverent, insightful and with that same communication of love, respect and fellowship.

R.I.P. Robin Williams.

R.I.P. Lenny …

and thank you for my totem, “Bronze-wing”.