| General Non-Fiction posted June 2, 2022 |
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The day that ...
Everything changed ...
by Wendy G
An Outing Contest Winner
Australia Day, 1966, was a hot summer's day.
I took my three younger sisters, Lily, Robbie and Jill to the waterfront, a couple of kilometres from our home. Our older brother would not come, not wanting to be seen in public with four little girls. However, our friend John met us there. Having no siblings, he enjoyed the company.
It was not uncommon at that time for young children to play at beaches without adult supervision. We always felt safe.
There was a peninsula with a rocky cliff-face at one end, and along the fore-shore were mangroves where we climbed trees, and swung from one to another at low tide.
We played in rock pools when the tide was fully out, looking for little crabs scurrying back and forth. Life was simple and innocent; we were care-free. It was fun to be outside for the whole day, and the walk home was not onerous.
We farewelled John and arrived home before nightfall, after a happy and uneventful day.
We were immediately conscripted for the usual duties of shelling peas, chopping green beans and peeling carrots, or setting the table for dinner. We each played our part. Normal family life.
Little did we know that would be our last such outing.
Our father turned on the television for the six o'clock news, and immediately called us all in to watch. How strange!
The news report mentioned another outing.
Three little children aged nine, seven and four, had also gone to their nearby beach to play.
Jane, the eldest, was responsible and independent. They had done this several times previously, without incident. They had enough coins for the short bus ride there and back, and for a treat each.
Their mother expected them back at noon. They must have missed their bus! The afternoon buses came and went; no laughing children got off any of the buses.
A massive police search began that evening.
Eye-witnesses later reported seeing a man in his thirties playing with three children – but of course there were hundreds of such families, along with many tourists at that popular beach. The children did buy pastries at a kiosk, but paid with a pound note, not coins. Strange.
Nothing was ever found – no trace, no bodies, no possessions. They simply vanished. More than fifty years later, the case has never been rested.
In that family, there were never again any helpers to shell peas, chop beans, peel carrots, or set the table. Their family was simply gone. No "normal family life" ever again.
The parents never had closure about their missing children. With no bodies, no proof of death, there could be no funerals, no celebration of life services, no flowers, no graves to visit. No comfort. No knowing – the hardest part.
Our cultural norms changed that day. All our lives changed.
Unfortunately, this story has no heroes, only victims … with a beginning of grief, but no ending to it.
Australia Day, 1966, was a hot summer's day.
I took my three younger sisters, Lily, Robbie and Jill to the waterfront, a couple of kilometres from our home. Our older brother would not come, not wanting to be seen in public with four little girls. However, our friend John met us there. Having no siblings, he enjoyed the company.
It was not uncommon at that time for young children to play at beaches without adult supervision. We always felt safe.
There was a peninsula with a rocky cliff-face at one end, and along the fore-shore were mangroves where we climbed trees, and swung from one to another at low tide.
We played in rock pools when the tide was fully out, looking for little crabs scurrying back and forth. Life was simple and innocent; we were care-free. It was fun to be outside for the whole day, and the walk home was not onerous.
We farewelled John and arrived home before nightfall, after a happy and uneventful day.
We were immediately conscripted for the usual duties of shelling peas, chopping green beans and peeling carrots, or setting the table for dinner. We each played our part. Normal family life.
Little did we know that would be our last such outing.
Our father turned on the television for the six o'clock news, and immediately called us all in to watch. How strange!
The news report mentioned another outing.
Three little children aged nine, seven and four, had also gone to their nearby beach to play.
Jane, the eldest, was responsible and independent. They had done this several times previously, without incident. They had enough coins for the short bus ride there and back, and for a treat each.
Their mother expected them back at noon. They must have missed their bus! The afternoon buses came and went; no laughing children got off any of the buses.
A massive police search began that evening.
Eye-witnesses later reported seeing a man in his thirties playing with three children – but of course there were hundreds of such families, along with many tourists at that popular beach. The children did buy pastries at a kiosk, but paid with a pound note, not coins. Strange.
Nothing was ever found – no trace, no bodies, no possessions. They simply vanished. More than fifty years later, the case has never been rested.
In that family, there were never again any helpers to shell peas, chop beans, peel carrots, or set the table. Their family was simply gone. No "normal family life" ever again.
The parents never had closure about their missing children. With no bodies, no proof of death, there could be no funerals, no celebration of life services, no flowers, no graves to visit. No comfort. No knowing – the hardest part.
Our cultural norms changed that day. All our lives changed.
Unfortunately, this story has no heroes, only victims … with a beginning of grief, but no ending to it.
I took my three younger sisters, Lily, Robbie and Jill to the waterfront, a couple of kilometres from our home. Our older brother would not come, not wanting to be seen in public with four little girls. However, our friend John met us there. Having no siblings, he enjoyed the company.
It was not uncommon at that time for young children to play at beaches without adult supervision. We always felt safe.
There was a peninsula with a rocky cliff-face at one end, and along the fore-shore were mangroves where we climbed trees, and swung from one to another at low tide.
We played in rock pools when the tide was fully out, looking for little crabs scurrying back and forth. Life was simple and innocent; we were care-free. It was fun to be outside for the whole day, and the walk home was not onerous.
We farewelled John and arrived home before nightfall, after a happy and uneventful day.
We were immediately conscripted for the usual duties of shelling peas, chopping green beans and peeling carrots, or setting the table for dinner. We each played our part. Normal family life.
Little did we know that would be our last such outing.
Our father turned on the television for the six o'clock news, and immediately called us all in to watch. How strange!
The news report mentioned another outing.
Three little children aged nine, seven and four, had also gone to their nearby beach to play.
Jane, the eldest, was responsible and independent. They had done this several times previously, without incident. They had enough coins for the short bus ride there and back, and for a treat each.
Their mother expected them back at noon. They must have missed their bus! The afternoon buses came and went; no laughing children got off any of the buses.
A massive police search began that evening.
Eye-witnesses later reported seeing a man in his thirties playing with three children – but of course there were hundreds of such families, along with many tourists at that popular beach. The children did buy pastries at a kiosk, but paid with a pound note, not coins. Strange.
Nothing was ever found – no trace, no bodies, no possessions. They simply vanished. More than fifty years later, the case has never been rested.
In that family, there were never again any helpers to shell peas, chop beans, peel carrots, or set the table. Their family was simply gone. No "normal family life" ever again.
The parents never had closure about their missing children. With no bodies, no proof of death, there could be no funerals, no celebration of life services, no flowers, no graves to visit. No comfort. No knowing – the hardest part.
Our cultural norms changed that day. All our lives changed.
Unfortunately, this story has no heroes, only victims … with a beginning of grief, but no ending to it.
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Writing Prompt Word count 450-500 You and family members and a friend go on an outing. Keep in G rated (suitable for children- a death may be included) |
An Outing Contest Winner |
 Recognized |
#25 June 2022 |
The photo is of the three missing children: Jane (9), Arnna (7) and Grant (4).
My siblings' names have been changed for their privacy.
Freedom for children such as my siblings and I had experienced decreased significantly from that day on. Children around the country were told this story, and warned of "stranger danger". Yes, our cultural norms changed.
https://unresolved.me/the-beaumont-children
https://www.historicmysteries.com/beaumont-children/
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. My siblings' names have been changed for their privacy.
Freedom for children such as my siblings and I had experienced decreased significantly from that day on. Children around the country were told this story, and warned of "stranger danger". Yes, our cultural norms changed.
https://unresolved.me/the-beaumont-children
https://www.historicmysteries.com/beaumont-children/
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