History Matters

In truth, it’s really quite a small building. More of a shed, really. They call it ‘The Big Hut’.
You’ll find it at Fishermans Beach, tucked away on the north side of Long Reef headland, just off the main road as you drive through picturesque Collaroy. Scattered in the sand dunes around it, overgrown with grass and rusted by time, you’ll find the winch bases standing guard. And on a good day, with clear skies and the waves gently crashing on the rock platform, you can forget everything. And you can start to remember. You can start to create.

I’m working with Northern Beaches Council as part of a special program entitled Our Stories: Yesterday | Today | Tomorrow. Together with Bethany Falzon, Council’s Arts & Cultural Development Officer as well as the rest of the Social Planning & Community Development Team, we’re asking how much residents know about the unique place they call home. Our Stories aims to explore the fascinating heritage of the Northern Beaches and offer creative perspectives of engagement between communities, their location and their history.
I hope for my project to pose questions. About how, if at all, communities, local residents and others are engaging with the unique heritage stories at Fishermans Beach and Long Reef more broadly. About how heritage conservation has the dynamic potential to be built around historical storytelling, not just strict preservation ideals.
At the end of the day, stories are the driving force here. They are how we tell history; or, at least, how we’ll tell this history.
And this little Big Hut has so many stories to tell.

I have to admit, I had absolutely no clue what I wanted to do for my project when we were first introduced to it.
There we all were on a Tuesday afternoon, sitting in a seminar room and listening to Mike talk about all the amazing things that past students had done – writing cookbooks, designing websites, making documentaries – and all that was going through my head was just pure nothing. Okay, maybe not just nothing. I was also injected with a healthy dose of fear and anxiety that made my eyes feel like they were going to bulge out of my head. I tried my best to hide it though. When Mike asked if we were all okay, I just smiled and nodded, trying to ignore the black hole that had suddenly appeared inside my brain, draining me of ideas and depositing them in a parallel universe.
When I got home that night, I called my boyfriend and curled up on my bed with my dinner. “I’m stuck,” I said, sadly shoveling forkfuls of pasta into my mouth. “Well,” he said, “There’s plenty of places you can start. What about a church? Or a cinema? Or a hospital –“
I froze mid-chew. A lightbulb has suddenly switched on inside my head. Hospital. Of course! It made complete sense. My mother had been a head nurse when we lived in Hong Kong, and I remember running through the corridors of her hospital as a kid. In the space of a few minutes, I had leapt up from my bed, grabbed my laptop and began an email to the first hospital I thought of: The Heritage Centre at the Royal Prince Alfred Hospital. Conveniently located right next to university, the Centre is made up of three branches: the hospital museum, which exhibits medical instruments and other historical objects, the archives, which hold an insurmountable number of patient records and materials spanning from 1868 onwards, and the library, which contains a collection of medical texts from the 19th century, as well as histories of the hospital itself.
The next few days went by without a reply, but I still held back from emailing my other two preferences. There was something about this one that spoke to me, and I didn’t want to step away from it. I was so glad that I didn’t. A week later, I received an email from Scott Andrews, Manager of the Museum and Educational Facilities at the RPA, letting me know that he was available for a meeting to discuss the course and the project. Walking through the corridors of the RPA was a little nerve-wracking; the stark white walls and the shiny linoleum aren’t really conducive to calming down a small, anxiety-prone student. But stepping into the museum was like stepping into another world, separate from the body of the hospital itself. Black and white photos of nurses and doctors lined the walls, as well as wooden cabinets filled with old medical instruments. Scott greeted me, cheese toastie in hand, and began to guide me around the museum.
It turns out that I may have emailed the RPA at an optimal time. Scott has only been manager for the past two years, but in those two years he has made it his mission to reform the museum. “I want to give everything a narrative,” he kept on saying on our tour of the rooms, “Everything needs a story. Right now, there is no story.” And Scott was right. Though every instrument and piece of equipment had a fascinating history, the sheer amount of them, coupled with their organisation, overwhelmed visitors instead of speaking to them. He has made a variety of changes to the layout of the museum in the last two years, installing plaques and new cabinets, but he still has a lot of visions he wants to see out. “You’re our first ever student volunteer,” he told me, “Lucky for you, there’s a lot of things that you can do.”
In our meeting, we discussed everything from re-formatting the layout of the museum, to giving tours and printing out more plaques. Scott was delighted that I already had experience digisiting the archives at the Art Gallery of NSW, as the museum has a lot of documents and objects still unaccounted for on their database. Perhaps the most interesting project that Scott had in mind was the making of a huge timeline on the corridors of the hospital about the history of the institution. With my background in art and design, I knew for certain that this was a project that I could help him achieve.
As of now, there are still various forms and applications I need to fill out – you know, to prove I’m not a criminal. I am still frequently conversing with Scott over email, discussing the administrative aspects of my volunteering, as well as the online training I will need to complete before I start. Right now, I am sitting at my desk with books and pamphlets about the history of the RPA, some of which I have already started reading. I have no clue where this volunteering will take me, but one thing is for certain: I am filled with excitement for new beginnings.

If you ever find yourself in Mona Vale Village on Sydney’s Northern Beaches, you will find there is one building in particular that stands out as a noticeable hub of activity. This building is Pittwater Pharmacy, owned by the same hard-working Italian family – the Papandreas – for almost 50 years.
In the first few weeks of this subject, I was encouraged to reflect upon where I belong and the communities that I consider myself a part of. As I reflected in my diary entry, I came to the realisation that I do not actually feel very connected anywhere, an epiphany I found quite distressing. I pondered this personal dilemma deeply, asking myself the question: “Where do I actually belong?”. It eventually came to me that while I may not be able to refer to Sydney as my ‘home’ with conviction, I nevertheless feel a sense of belonging whenever I am in Mona Vale. I grew up in Church Point, about a 15-minute drive north of Mona Vale, and the latter served as our local centre of sorts – when I was a child, I would find myself in Mona Vale regularly, whether it was spending a day at the beach, doing the grocery shopping or catching up with family friends.
When my parents moved back to New Zealand, they made the decision to purchase a unit in Mona Vale to serve as a base. Whenever my parents are in Sydney, I often spend time with them there, and have come to appreciate Mona Vale as a trendy, vibrant, friendly and laid-back community. Most importantly, it is a place I feel a connection to.
Pittwater Pharmacy features heavily in this connection, going back all the way to my birth, when Ralph Papandrea, the pharmacy’s founder and patriarch, used to give my mother advice on the best ointments and treatments for a newborn baby. ‘The Boys’, as we fondly call them, are a group of five Italian men, aged from 22 to 73, who work in this pharmacy and are almost like family to me. Everyone in Mona Vale knows and loves the Pittwater Pharmacy – not only do they have time for everyone and deliver unparalleled personable service, but their charitable contributions and pro bono community work are renowned throughout the village.
For example, Ralph Papandrea continues to work every Wednesday in order to provide older members of Mona Vale’s Italian community with free medical advice in their native tongue. In my family, we refer to this as ‘Wacky Wednesdays’ – you know to steer clear of the pharmacy on these days because the line of customers goes out the door! The family also provides assistance and funding for local charity events and organisations, and regularly makes generous donations to the local Catholic Church.
I have often wondered how the Papandreas came to run their small, bustling pharmacy in the heart of Mona Vale. Although the pharmacy has a website, there is virtually no information about its history. Therefore, I plan to start off by interviewing members of the Papandrea family and generating transcripts in order to document their migration to Sydney’s Northern Beaches and the work they have done for the community since the 1970s. I will then conduct research into the role the business has played in Mona Vale’s local history by investigating resources from the Northern Beaches Council’s archives.
Finally, I would like to either design and publish an informative brochure or create an addition to the pharmacy’s website that will amalgamate these elements. If I decide to produce a brochure, this can be made available at the pharmacy so that its many customers will have the opportunity to read about its history and form a better understanding of the role the family has played in shaping the community.
My ultimate wish is to give back to a family that has given myself and the local community so much by making their numerous and diverse contributions visible to the public they selflessly care for.

The St George District Cricket Club has an incredibly rich history spanning over 100 years. The club was founded in 1911 and lays claim to the greatest batsman to ever grace the game, Sir Donald Bradman. In total, the club has had 13 of its playing members go on to represent Australia in test cricket and 49 players who have represented New South Wales.
My interest in the club has stemmed both from my involvement as a player as well as my family connection with the club. I have found the club to have such a fascinating history, with so many stories to be told from over a century of cricket. I have met up with the club President and mayor of the Georges River council Kevin Greene and also with author/historian Ronald Cardwell who have both been very helpful.
I have begun some cataloguing work with the club which has involved collating items such as team photos, team caps, team ties, shields, trophies, signature bats, books, and commemorative items among many other things into an excel document. Through this process it has become abundantly clear that these gentlemen have forgotten more about these items than I will ever know. Their memories and historical insight have so far been invaluable to the work that has been completed. Due to many historical books and annual reports, it has been fairly easy to locate information surrounding particular pieces that would have otherwise been very difficult to find.
I have been meeting up on a regular basis with Mr Cardwell to sort through these items in the cabinets of the Booth Saunders Pavilion (named after the two patrons of the club, Brian Booth and Warren Saunders) at Hurstville Oval. We hope to have collected all the necessary data within the next week at which point we will be able to put together a report of our work.

Logo of the Assyrian Universal Alliance

Continue reading “Assyrian Universal Alliance (Australian Chapter)- Good Samaritans with a Rich List of Achievements”

Working with the Ku-Ring-Gai Historical Society has so far been an absolute joy.
History, of course, is one of my strongest passions. Growing up, it was not only major events in history such as wars and politics that intrigued me but also the “little things” of history; ordinary people, doing ordinary things; which is what I believe to truly define and make history. Things like exploring random historical houses or reading stories of certain soldiers during the wars has always fascinated me.
But of course, history in university and at an academic level always focusses on the big picture events, people, and eras. This is why this course seemed perfect for me- a chance to see how history plays out with these ordinary people.
My local history has also been so fascinating to me- I have numerous books that are full of stories and pictures of my local area in times gone by- and I love to spend hours at a time going through these just in awe at how things have changed for the people of Ku-Ring-Gai over the years, including the shocking sight of just a single car on a dirt Pacific Highway many decades ago! After all, it is these people, rather than the politicians or the elite, that have shaped my area and made it the reason it is today.
However, to my absolute joy, these stories may not be well known or famous by any means but are definitely far from forgotten! The Ku-Ring-Gai Historical society was first created in 1963 by the councils mayor, growing to over 600 members throughout its first 50 years. The work it does for our community is unparalleled; studying the history and times of the area with a massive collection of information, photographs, and other significant documents all available because of the dedication and hard work of the members. I had always known of the group, as they have a small display of local history images and stories on display at my local Gordon Library- a heritage building itself that use to be a school! And being the history nerd I am, I loved checking out this small exhibit every time I was at the library (usually to pick up a history or historical fiction book!), and even when the exhibit remained unchanged for months at a time, I still loved to look at it.
Thus, I contacted the group via their website and was extremely happy with the response. A lovely member, Neil, was keen to meet up with me and so we did, with another member, and I was very excited to meet another young person who was active in the group for their own historical interest- and the society was definitely very excited to have us, and their member base is predominantly older as you can imagine. We went over the course, and they were very insistent that I select my project first and they would comply with whatever I chose!
So the next week I started going Tuesday morning to get a better idea of the society. Here, I watched the team in action and saw how their standard Tuesday worked. I was shown their archives, photo collection, and both very classic technology as well as new technology, including a google-earth-type website which gave information on land allotments and allowed you to compare birds-eye-view of your street, or anywhere, with a 1943 image of the same (when my house was just bushland!). Another woman was using these images and archives in a personal mission to save a few historical houses in the area- such an amazing example of the Society in action in our community!
I am so impressed with the group- who have, after less than a month, completely shaped my understanding of history in the community; it is not just people’s personal interest but the society’s services are used by residents and businesspeople, as well as the council, to understand and learn more about the area and in particular, the Family History wing of the Society.
A major interest of mine is the World Wars; being a source of great pride of our nation, as well as something I feel needs to be forever remembered and in everyone’s scope of awareness. The Society is well sourced on that- Neil showed me some amazing books that members had put together; 4 volumes of books commemorating the service of Ku-Ring-Gai residents throughout World War I. Of course, my project will ideally be something that is highly beneficial to this group too; I am thinking either along the lines of WWII history or rather the history of the less-obvious people active in WWI and WWII- such as women, children, and others who found their own ways to serve on the home Front. I will discuss this, along with some other ideas, with the members this Tuesday and see how we go
I am still figuring out if a project like this would be adequate, or if I should be focusing on more the history of the society itself- but so far so good, and even though this course has been challenging so far I am learning so much along the way; I am so encouraged through the society’s work that I think this will push me to continue when it gets more stressful, and it is so worth it! I see a long future ahead for me and the Society.

The Australian Museum before its contemporary architectural reconceptualization
The Australian museum sits on the corner of College St and William St. A colonial monolith overlooking the leafy boulevards of Hyde Park, and beyond that, Sydney’s crowded wall of skyscrapers. The museum has a resolute squareness, reiterated by the pockmarked sandstone blocks that constitute its thick and impressive walls. Clad in a contemporary armor of shinning glass and commercial billboards, the museum’s original steeped roof peaks out, still visible. This roof is evocative of the museum’s role as a mega-house—home to ancient fossils, sparkling gemstones and taxidermied Australian wildlife carefully stitched into time.
Many of us brought to museums as children, can if prompted, tap into the imaginative richness of museum spaces. The sacredness that is attached to objects put behind glass permeates the rest of the museum—this is a space of superstition, of discovery, of life and death. This reverent atmosphere, perpetuated by the likes of Night at the Museum (clearly a cinematic marvel), foregrounds the museum’s role as holder of old stuff—irreplaceable stuff—stuff that is meaningful because it informs us of who we are (should those objects be dragged out of storage and brought into the unbearable light of being).
And that’s where the fantasy becomes more complicated—because often, museums in Australia fail to capture public imagination. And this might lead us to question whether the Australian Museum’s heritage as an ‘institution’ deters people from seeing its vibrancy and currency. Kathleen McLean draws on characterisations of museums as knowledge fortresses. But these are fortresses being torn apart by a battling curatorial/public division or “expert-novice polarity”, and the new(ish), far more dynamic AGE OF INFORMATION (i.e the internet).
When I visit the Australian Museum, I am tucked away in a snug corner where chatty librarians and loyal volunteers stop for tea and ginger biscuits on the hour, and it begs the question, is this a museum where a dynamic flow of information and vibrant public discussion is possible? How different is the museum from the university when it comes to going beyond the classroom?
My project with the Australian Museum (so far) will focus on the archive of Elizabeth Pope (1912-1993). Elizabeth Pope was a marine biologist who rose through the ranks to become the first female deputy director of the Australian Museum in 1971. Her career and her scientific ambition stand-out as significant. She began working at the museum at a time when women were expected to leave the workforce once married. On fieldtrips throughout her life she traversed the eastern coastline of Australia, paying attention to the rocky-shore and other sea-life minutia in ways that exceeded the attempts of many of her European male predecessors.
Many of her scientific reports in the archive contain black and white photographs of the sites she surveyed in Australia. This ‘scientific’ photographic archive contains the occasional portrait of Pope with her trousers rolled to the knee and her hair mussed by sea breezes. Her scientific endeavors breached the professional divide between work and leisure, and for me, they speak to a quintessentially Australian way of life.

Elizabeth Pope
Photographer: A nursing sister of the N.T. Medical Service © Australian Museum
Pope’s role in the museum, and in other public spheres, relates directly to the structure of History Beyond the Classroom. Pope was a professional who was required to reach beyond the walls of the museum to engage with broader public interests and scientific endeavours. One of her most notable outputs was Australian Seashores (1952). Written by Professor W.J. Dakin, Pope and her colleague Isobel Bennett (only ever acknowledged as ‘assistants’) were charged with seeing the book come to fruition after Dakin died in 1950. It was the most comprehensive book published about the Australian sea life on the rocky shore and was reprinted 12 times.
Interestingly, Pope’s memorialisation has been less resounding than that of her contemporary Isobel Bennett. Bennett was a self-taught marine biologist, who through determination and a bit of luck carved herself a lasting legacy in the marine biology world. And to me, it begs the question, why? Is it because Bennett was more publically engaged than Pope? Is it because Aussie nostalgia has favoured Bennett’s story of rags to riches—a story that feeds off unfettered optimism and a belief in the fair go? Was her intellectual output more impressive, or more useful? Did people simply like her personality better? Or was it because Pope’s position inside the museum cut her off from public memorialisation?
Whatever the reason, my project intends to draw Pope’s legacy out from the shelves of the museum into a useable form—in ways that are hopefully engaging, and maybe even fun.
As explored by Anna Clark in Public History, Private Lives, public history is about personal connection—its selfish. People are more connected to events and people and places that they themselves have experienced or feel some intangible link to. Thus, a potential direction for bringing relevancy to Pope’s work is to reconnect it with the places she based it in—especially the ones located in Sydney. I think her photo archive will offer me an ‘in’ here. The audience I am considering is of course the community of working scientists that may be interested in the story of a key player in their own history, as well as a more general public interested in an adventurous woman who contributed valuable knowledge to how we understand seashores in Australia.

Since taking a seat in my first University History lecture I have been immersed in stories – I’ve witnessed racial-tension spilling across America, I’ve seen ancient conflict on the Mongolian steppe, I’ve followed the wayfarers of the Pacific as they navigated the unknown.
In this, the last semester of my degree, I pause to reflect on why I’ve enjoyed these subjects and why I do history. As ‘the future of work’ focus seemingly shifts toward STEM, a soon-to-be Arts graduate like myself could be left asking the same question that an elderly lady upon the train asked me the other day – ‘what are you going to do with a degree like that?’. Though struck, in this encounter, with nothing to say, if I were to be caught on the train with the same lady, my answer to that question would now be – ‘tell stories’. I love history because I love stories. No matter how good an idea, without the ability to communicate it, it remains unrealised. Stories, I believe, hold the power to communicate, convince and create. This power reaches far beyond the classroom.
Aside from stories, I also love cooking. When asked what organisations I would be interested in working with in History Beyond the Classroom, the Monday Morning Cooking Club found its way to my list – an outlier amongst the museums and libraries, though a perfect match for my passion for food and history. Since 2006 the women of Monday Morning Cooking Club have been collecting, testing, curating and preserving the recipes of the Jewish community – sharing them with Australia and beyond in three spectacular books so far. For me, what makes these books so special are the stories. Around each recipe in MMCC’s books, a tapestry of Jewish culture, heart-warming personal memoirs and heirloom, culinary histories is woven. My project will be focused on helping with the collection of these stories.
Enrolling in this subject, I could not have imagined that I would have the opportunity to combine my love for stories, cooking and history whilst working with a group whose books I have been a fan of since first picking them up years ago. I am beyond excited to take history beyond the classroom and to the kitchen.
If you are in need of some culinary inspiration yourself, the Monday Morning Cooking Club website features some of their amazing recipes – https://mondaymorningcookingclub.com.au

For me, choosing this course was a way to help me translate 2 ½ years of in class education into the real world where I can give my time to a non-profit organisation, and in turn my knowledge and skills could grow. My major is Jewish Civilisation, Thought and Culture, a passion for Jewish history, which has stayed with me since year 8 in 2010. Then after taking multiple courses at university on periods such as the destruction of the first and second temple in Jerusalem, the Spanish Inquisition, Emancipation, the Holocaust, as well as the modern State of Israel. Thus, I reached out to Breann Fallon, who is the Education Officer at the Sydney Jewish Museum, and was given the opportunity to go in and discuss what I could do at the museum.
The museum opened in 1992 after transitioning from a community centre, formerly known as the Maccabean Hall since its opening in 1923. The museum displays many artefacts and memorabilia that are more than just inanimate objects, they speak the experiences of the Holocaust from many perspectives, in ensuring that ‘its uniqueness in history is never forgotten and that it is recognised as a crime against humanity with contemporary and universal significance’ (https://sydneyjewishmuseum.com.au/about/). It is the museum’s mission to educate all its visitors on the consequences of racial hatred, and thus to ensure that racial tolerance is adhered to presently and in the future. Especially since many of the museum’s visitors are school students who come to learn more about the Holocaust through the museum’s displays as well as through survivor testimony as they give their story to the students in person. Thus, it is extremely important to the museum for notions of racial tolerance, human rights and social justice to be educated to these students, as they are the beneficiaries of this world in the future.
I was invited by Breann to the museum on the 17th of August in order to see how I could help them, and in turn come up with a project. The day looked like this: 9am to 10am I got to explore the museum to gather some ideas; 10am to 1pm I would observe the Museum Education Program, which included listening to Egon’s testimony as a survivor of the Holocaust, then a seminar to help the school kids further understand the importance of studying the Holocaust, and then a guided tour analysing artefacts and resources around the museum; lastly, from 2pm to 3pm Breann and I would brainstorm some ideas for what I could do at the museum. My first hour exploring the museum was how I could interpret what the museum wished to portray to its visitors, with a lot of thought going into the set up, especially that of the use of the Star of David at the centre of the museum. As you go further up the stairs, delving deeper into the history of the Holocaust, you start to lose your sighting of the symbol, then as you get to the top floor you can once again clearly see the Star of David. These architectural layouts symbolise the feeling of being lost and confused, then once you find the end everything becomes clearer and the pieces are put back together, renewed, or transformed. Other exhibitions of the museum that was memorable was the Children’s Memorial, which included a wall of photographs and names of children, importantly individualising the 1.5 million child victims of the Holocaust. Lastly, the Human Rights exhibition is an important space to start conversation about the past, current, and future challenges of human rights. Thus, these were the areas that Breann and I discussed when asked what parts of the museum interested me in order to see where I could fit in.
First of all, prior to going to the museum I was told not to plan anything, and to put the organisation first, and my project last. However, I did have expectations as an individual who loves to overthink everything, and analyses many possible outcomes. However, I did not expect to walk out of the museum with the plan that Breann, Roslyn (Head Curator), and I had conjured up. Both Breann and Roslyn mentioned the Maccabean Hall and how they would like to incorporate that part of Australian Jewish history into the museum, as previously they have not had the time or the hands to do so. Thus, we brainstormed some ideas in order to execute this idea, such as an interactive map showing the various spots of interest associated with the “Macc”, including the Jewish War Memorial at the entrance, as well as pointing out surrounding buildings like the Gay and Lesbian Holocaust Memorial in Green Park. Furthermore, we thought of an audio walking tour including those spots with further information.
My next meeting was on the 6th of September, with a day including researching through the Resource Centre, with the help of Tinny, reading articles such as Barbara Linz’s essay on the history of the Maccabean Hall, Avril Alba’s ‘The Holocaust Memorial Museum’, as well as a compilation of articles part of the Australian Jewish History Society Journal. From these works I gained an in depth understanding of the Macc and how it contributed to the Jewish community, especially as a centre welcoming refugees after the Holocaust, helping them settle into this new environment through programs such as English classes.
Prior to the day, Breann informed me that she had set up a session for me to interview a man named Jack, a Holocaust survivor who moved to Australia after the Holocaust and was deeply imbedded in the Macc community. I’ll admit, I was very nervous to conduct an interview, I made sure I wrote down every question under the sun relevant to understanding what it was like to be part of the Macc community, so as to not miss a detail. My interview with Jack went very well, his story at the Macc was very inspiring and left me in awe of how such a space could mean so much to someone’s renewal. “The Maccabean made me realise life keeps going, and I was happy afterward, and my life start all over again”, is one statement Jack made when reminiscing the social dances he used to attend at the Macc, where he also met his wife, whom he later married at the Macc. Now my goal with Jack’s interview is to utilise it as much as possible, in conveying to those who would like to know more about the Macc, how important the Hall was and still is to many people in settling into Australian society, as well as maintaining their Jewish roots. Lastly, I was given the opportunity to explore though the archives of the Australian Jewish Historical Society, going through countless documents regarding the Macc, such as: the minutes of meetings; a membership card; an appeal to raise funds to build the Maccabean Hall; as well as Annual Report Brochures.
There was so much I didn’t get to go through, but I will definitely get to it as what I did find was so important and interesting in uncovering various aspects of the Hall prior to its opening, as well as during. I’m looking forward to gathering all this information and sharing it in order to show the story of the Macc for the Sydney Jewish Museum.

The organisation that I have chosen to work with for my project is Kentlyn Rural Fire Brigade, which is located in the community of Kentlyn. Kentlyn is a small community in the Campbelltown region, surrounded by Georges River and a vast nature reserve, where the minimum subdivision of land is 5 acres. For this reason, there are a lot of areas that are at risk of being fire hazards. This first became of interest to me as around the time that this semester began, there were a couple of rather dangerous fires and hazards in Kentlyn where the Fire Service needed to be actively involved. Seeing the hard work that the Fire Service puts in for my community, I thought this was the perfect opportunity for me to give back.

The first barrier that I encountered with KRFB is that fact that they are a voluntary service, and do not meet on a standard regular basis as many other organisations do. This was particularly challenging as I awaited confirmation that they would like to work with me, as I was struggling to think of any back up ideas and wasn’t sure of what I would do if they did not think my project was appropriate. During this time, I took it upon myself to look into the voluntary Fire Brigade a little more to gain a deeper understanding of the role that they played in the community. It is through this that I began to realise the vast history of the community of Kentlyn which intrigued me into this project even more. How could this community have such a fascinating history yet there was no collective memory of it all?
After a few (stressful) weeks, KRFB responded to me and said they would be happy to work with me, which was great! I met up with Ben, a member of KRFB and discussed my project in a little bit more detail. It was in this meeting that we arranged some further time for me to spend with KRFB to find out even more about what they do and the role that they play in the Kentlyn community. At this point in my project, I have a basic understanding of the role that KRFB plays in my community and I am excited to build on this and create an online space for the community to gain further knowledge about the great history that we share and the importance of KRFB, particularly in such a fascinating area of Campbelltown.

Our visit to the Sydney Jewish Holocaust Museum was very interesting for me as it allowed me to see the relevance of public history. It was through this experience that I realised the way that public history can provide a great space for many people to come together to recognise the past and appreciate the struggles and successes of particular people. For this reason, I am even more excited to continue working with KRFB in the aspiration that my small project may act as a piece of public history for years to come.