The Editor's Blog

I’m just back from my summer holiday - the necessary punctuation mark at the end of a busy year - my first full one as editor of Sunny Days.

This is a job I love. I love the community which we are gradually building together. I love preparing our pages each month (right now we’re getting our February Back To School issue ready - and it’s looking good) and I love immersing myself in the puzzling, exasperating and thrilling world of parenting.

The truth is I really would work every hour of the day - except for the fact that that’s kind of ridiculous. It’s also unusual for me. It took me a lot of years to reach this career Nirvana. I'd worked at many jobs but none had totally captured my heart like this one.

But, much as I love Sunny Days, we all know that work/life balance is essential for your own health and the health of those who depend on you. In this case my family. And so together we headed up to the Sunshine Coast for a little essential R&R.

We’re fans of the Gold Coast - what family isn’t with its dawn-till-dusk-and-beyond attractions? But the Sunshine Coast is a different kind of holiday. The pace is slower and the kids have to rely less on external thrills and instead make their own with just the sun, the sand and the sky as their raw materials. Our two did it beautifully - sandcastles, bodysurfing, games in the pool, lazy afternoons and ice creams on the beach - they were nothing less than the golden days of childhood. I hope they are old enough to remember this holiday with joy.

But we did promise them one big outing. The Irwin family’s Australia Zoo is situated not far from where we stayed. Our kids are huge animal lovers so a visit was a must.

The day of our visit dawned hot and sunny. Perfect. We got the free bus from the bus station. We had taken the kids the last time we were in Caloundra but they were too young to remember. That was before Steve Irwin died and I recall Luke and I being a little disappointed on the day because Steve didn’t perform the crocodile show. The kids couldn’t have cared less.

But they’ve grown up a lot since then and when we heard that Bindi was going to be performing they were super excited. Their Aunty gave them Bindi’s DVD a few years ago and, like most Aussie kids, they’d danced along to the catchy tunes and watched Bindi clown around with her dad.

I must admit that I was probably a bit weary of the Bindi as Product concept and had allowed some cynicism to creep into my regard of the Irwin juggernaut, but I didn’t want to betray such thoughts to my kids - it kind of wasn’t the time or the place.

We hurried to the Crocoseum when the call went out that the show would be starting soon. As we entered the arena I found myself oddly emotional. But then I tend to get a bit teary whenever I take my kids to see live shows. My own childhood wasn’t particularly filled with luxuries such as family holidays or theatre visits, so I think at these times I take stock of how fortunate my kids are and how proud I am that I have been able to provide such happy occasions for them.

But there was another element to my tears on that day. When Bindi stepped onto the stage with her Jungle Girl dancers I felt a painful lump rising in my throat. Embarrassed, I tried to choke it back. What was wrong with me?

As I watched Bindi performing I was confronted by a range of thoughts. Is it right that this child is the face of a massive - albeit somewhat virtuous in the scheme of things - business? Is it a sense of duty which compels her to continue performing - the duty to maintain the legacy of her late father?

Seeing Bindi - bigger now than the poppet in the original DVD and with that mature composure peculiar to child stars - I found myself wondering how much of the enormity of her position she may have started to perceive. But, looking towards the VIP area of the arena I saw her mum Terri applauding and cheering and clapping Bindi’s little brother Robert’s hands along to his sister’s performance. Their love and support was obvious. This is a family after all. I decided to trust that Terri - a mum just as I’m a mum - would only let her daughter perform if that’s what Bindi really wanted to do.

But, when pictures of Steve appeared up on the big screen I lost control. Tears ran down my cheeks, because you know what? Despite all the media analysis and gossip that Bindi and her family have been subjected to here was - plain and simple - a little girl (and a boy) whose Daddy died. Their much loved and doting father died. I feel I need to repeat it so that now, after being numbed by overexposure to the event for the past few years we may pause and consider the reality. Their Daddy died.

Yes, he had a dangerous job and yes it may have been true that he died doing what he loved but, bottom line, he was their Daddy and he died. They will always be without him.

I guess it’s bittersweet that they will be able to remember him because of the huge visual record he has left behind as well as his renowned work for wildlife conservation. But beyond all that he was their Dad. That day I chose to only remember that fact and to try to keep my cynicism to a minimum.

When Bindi’s performance ended we saw a preview of her new movie - an installment in the Free Willy series. I have to admit it looked kinda cute. I know my two will want to see it.

And, while watching the preview my seven-year-old son, distressed by the recent news reports about the sinking of the Ady Gil, had one plaintive question. “ Why can’t they just stop whaling?” Why indeed. I guess that's why we need conservationists, dare I say, like the Irwins.