Keeping memory

Hi, I’m Moana.

I wasn’t ready for my father, Greg Kidd to pass away in December 2025, so I’m finding out who he was through his items, photos and writing.

• The Farm, Glenrowan, Victoria(November 2002)
  Around me are the 25 hectares my brother Philip and I bought three and a half years ago for the development of a yabby farm. At the time, the lot… Read more: The Farm, Glenrowan, Victoria(November 2002)
• Among friends
  On being seen: I remember Dad hated when people would stare at us when we went out into the city. I was painfully shy, I would stand next to him… Read more: Among friends
• Tools of the trade
  “Episode 10Beyond Basket Weaving(1965) The Occupational Therapy Department occupied the ground floor of a forbidding building further up the hill on which S7 stood. The hill was so steep that… Read more: Tools of the trade
• Hard Rain
  “Radio waves One evening at a pub I met Jim Shields, the 4VL radio technician. We had many common beliefs and interests, not the least being our shared awareness of… Read more: Hard Rain
• Any given Sunday
  On Sunday I would visit Dad. Now there is no Dad in reservoir. Not even an echo. I despair but I cannot fall into despair, because Greg Kidd lived against… Read more: Any given Sunday
• Thailand
  Dad always wanted to travel Asia, writing: “Another year. Most of my time in 1969 was split between doing Mr Wisdom’s Whopper crossword puzzles in The Australasian Post and reading… Read more: Thailand
• Celebrating the music of
  Nine weeks ago Dad and I went to see the MSO celebrating the music of Billy Joel. It was a pretty normal sort of situation except Dads carer pulled out… Read more: Celebrating the music of
• Back Through Time
  I’m going to take my father to Queensland as his final resting place. I think I should go to Charleville. The Charleville-Cunnamulla Road, south-west Queensland(From my Fathers writings, 4 May… Read more: Back Through Time
• Bureaucratic oath
  For all my father raged against bureaucracy, it was his second language. Without that skill, the capacity to translate the words of organisational power, I would not have been Greg’s… Read more: Bureaucratic oath
• Difficulter and difficulter
  It’s hard to allow oneself to be too mired in self-focused sadness when your father suffered harder and did far more. I found Greg’s school certificate issued in 1966. At… Read more: Difficulter and difficulter
• Beyond the veil
  I don’t know how to write today. I needed my own reminder. I considered skipping it altogether until an email from dads OT came through: “…just recently Greg was the… Read more: Beyond the veil
• Leonard Cohen
  Discovering my father’s music. When Dad turned 70, he sent me a list of the music he wanted playing: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLobz8Ajn15HTVAwiTo2TEXabJQrNz-6Gd&si=iGuFAkqHHgV2YPcH I don’t think I really listened to Leonard Cohen before… Read more: Leonard Cohen
• On documenting a life
  I knew, for my adult life at least, that my father was documenting his life. He said it was in part for me, but there was definitely a drive to… Read more: On documenting a life
• Dreams
  I had a dream that I was at Fairfield’s Yarra Bend Park today and Dad was there. Not passed away, zooming around in his wheelchair. There was something about a… Read more: Dreams
• Empty
  The final items were taken from my father’s house today. The rooms are empty, echoing on their hollowness. Right before the last truck came, a neighbour walked up. Jim from… Read more: Empty
• Agendas and extenders
  Uncovering the hidden gems in Dad’s belongings: a vintage news reel from 1965 Australia reveals a pivotal moment in Greg Kidd’s journey.
• Leaving home
  “On 20 December (2004), Lorraine from Yarra Community Housing (YCH) delivered the Keon Park house keys, the remote-controlled front door keypad code, the carport roller door remote and the news… Read more: Leaving home
• Remembering Greg
  It was as I prepared Greg’s eulogy that I realised of all the information in his draft autobiography, all the material gathered, all the newsletters edited, almost none of it… Read more: Remembering Greg