The Great Flood of 2010

It’s six days after the historic flooding disaster hit Nashville and the surrounding region, but while the floodwaters have subsided considerably in most places, the real trauma has just begun. Three nights ago I flew over the area in a Cessna 182 to view the devastation from the air, and at first it’s hard to comprehend the full extent of the impact on so many individual lives.

The countryside is lush and green, a picturesque mix of farmland edged with trees and forested rolling hills. Quite breathtakingly beautiful in the late afternoon sunlight. The flood-swollen Cumberland River snakes across the broad valley to Nashville’s city skyline, a distant silhouette.

(photo: Cameron Stokes)

In one weekend we received 28% of the year’s annual average rainfall, and it wasn’t long before the Cumberland and Harpeth Rivers, plus all the smaller creeks and tributaries, had reached flood level and burst their banks. Up to 18 inches of rain in many areas. People were taken by surprise across 30 counties as flood waters rose rapidly and surged through basements, houses and buildings, turning the landscape into a wetland and cutting off roads and major interstates. Cars and trucks were swamped and even submerged sitting in traffic on the highways, some washed away in the swift current.

(photo: Cameron Stokes)

Heroic rescues and neighbor helping neighbor filled the news stories, as more than 1000 flood victims sought accommodation in shelters around the state. People lost their homes, their treasured possessions, their livelihood. There were over 900 water rescues!

(Photo: Rick Banning)
My best friends Scott and Julie fled their property (above) as over 4ft water flooded their home, rescuing their animals stranded in the loft while their life possessions swirled in the toxic mix below. The water kept rising in downtown Nashville, turning street after street into a waterway, and it grew worse as buildings began pumping the water from basements and underground parking lots. The Pinnacle Building’s basement was 35 ft under, the Schermerhorn Symphony Center battled 18 ft water in their basement, losing Steinway grand pianos and the famed organ console. Irreplaceable archives were threatened in the Country Music Hall of Fame, and Soundcheck – where around a thousand musicians stored their musical equipment in storage containers – was underwater. Trucking depots with dozens of trucks and trailers full of freight were afloat. Thousands were without power and phone service.

Opryland Hotel, Oprymills, and the Grand Ole Opry (above) evacuated everyone before the entire ground level (over 10ft) was underwater as the flooded Cumberland bled across the landscape.

Cornelia Fort Airport would be better suited to floatplane operations, as planes disappeared in the rising water.

At its peak, the Cumberland rose 20 ft above flood level, threatening to overflow Old Hickory Dam and render the powerful waterway beyond control.

Monday morning I received a phone call that the Wanderin’ Star and the boat dock had been lifted off the mooring poles and both moved out into the lake. In fact the flood moved them along the shore, and as the water began to recede, the boat would soon be left laying on its side immobile. It took our team of Meadows, two friends, a boat and canoe, many hours to rescue both sailboat and dock, but she is now swinging at anchor in the cove, awaiting some repair work on the dock that we miraculously restored to its original mooring.

The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers declared the disaster a 1000 year flood of historic proportions. Probably at least 80% of the victims did not have flood insurance – living in areas not even considered a flood plain. Scott and Julie did not have flood insurance, so like many others, the loss is huge. They had just moved into their new place 3 months ago. Many businesses will go under, the financial loss too great. Opryland alone, which will takes months to recover, will leave several thousand without a job.

Pennington Bend

Flooding is an insidious disaster. You can now drive down streets that just a few days ago were flooded, only the rooftops of houses showing. Today everything looks normal, except for the huge piles of sodden mattresses, furniture, personal belongings, broken drywall and insulation lining the streets. The houses on the outside appear fine. But on the inside they are trashed, destroyed by contaminated water that covered everything. Some things can be saved, but most cannot.

Imagine walking through your own house, and marking a line. Everything below 4 ft will be destroyed or contaminated. It helps you focus on what’s really important in life. It sharpens my own perspective. If I could have Bill back, I would gladly give up everything, cheerfully stand there with nothing by my side but him – an easy, instantaneous choice. How about you? How important are those material possessions? Could you give up everything below the 4 ft line – could you give up your whole house?

My friends and I have walked this past week with Scott and Julie, using every spare moment away from work helping them tear out drywall and insulation, sort through belongings, disinfect and clean what could be salvaged, take truckloads to the dump, and reclaim what we could. They run this endurance race like long distance runners, battling exhaustion, but maintaining good spirits. “Today we throw away our lives,” Julie shared, hiding the depth of loss as they faced the task of going through the sodden piles of truly personal papers, memories and treasured items of a lifetime, much beyond redemption. “We’ll be like honeymooners, starting over. But we have been so blessed. I will always thank the Lord for His goodness." Many others are even less fortunate, and have lost everything.

CNN’s Anderson Cooper arrived in town on Wednesday, stunned at the extent of the devastation, and publicly apologizing for the national media not covering the story before now, preoccupied with the Gulf oil spill and the thwarted terrorist bombing in New York. He is overwhelmed at the volunteer spirit he sees in Tennessee – groups and individuals mobilizing to help those in need on a grassroots level, anxious to do all they can. Organizations pitching in quickly, everywhere people seeing what they can contribute, looking for opportunities to give of time and money and effort. There is very little crime to speak of in the midst of this disaster, virtually no looting. Tennessee is famous for this volunteer attitude, and Cooper has never seen it before.

Pope John Paul II High School, Hendersonville

Over 1500 people gather for the National Day of Prayer at Hendersonville First Baptist – relocated from the Grand Ole Opry that is badly flooded. In spite of the new federal ruling that such an historic day is now contested as unconstitutional, all 50 States in the Union make the declaration to honor it. At times such as this, many realize we need to seek God’s face.

Vietnam Veteran's Blvd

Unlike New Orleans, this region was not built 5 ft below sea level, trusting a levee bank to protect it from a wild ocean surge. Rather than mass entitlement programs, the entrepreneurial spirit is still strong. People don’t sit around waiting for the government to bail them out. They pitch in and help one another. It makes me proud to be a Tennessean.

The music industry, the lifeblood of Nashville, is finding ways to help this city get back on its feet. And for many of them, the personal losses have been devastating. Musicians like Vince Gill, Keith Urban, Brad Paisley and LeAnn Rimes have lost entire collections. The Nashville Symphony is playing a free concert this weekend in the public square. The Grand Ole Opry will return to the Ryman this weekend, and Alan Jackson and Brad Paisley will be performing. The CMA awards in June will donate 100% of the proceeds to flood relief. Volunteer groups are mobilizing across the state. The long road to recovery is just beginning.

Watch this short video for a sensitive rendering of this week’s experience.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pFjaQoOdJvI&sns=em

More pictures at today’s Tennessean online newspaper: http://www.tennessean.com/apps/pbcs.dll/frontpage

My Dancing Girl

A week ago we buried my little dancing girl, my sweet Saki – our little spirit of light and joy, light as air, wild as a dervish, gentle as a moonbeam. She has graced our home these past 9 years, but I will always see her spirit dancing in the sunlight, returned to her Creator, the source of all life.

As we stood around the sunlit grave close to Bill's oak tree, Tux spontaneously wandered over, explored around the hole, and, prompted by who knows what, braced himself on the edge and leaned in. His head reached down to Saki's - the only part exposed from her little white shroud, and he sniffed her in a farewell kiss. Then he withdrew to the oak tree and lay down in the grass.

Saki arrived on Bill’s birthday, December 10, 2000. Somewhat traumatized by the party and houseful of people, that first night. A little bundle of white fluff edged with chocolate points. Startling blue eyes. Our perfect little Siamese.

When I left on my round-the-world trip to visit family early in 2001, Saki was in the prime of her wildness, Flying around the house, up curtains, across dressers, leaving a trail of chaos in her wake. But she was great comfort to Bill when his sister passed away as he stood by her bedside – and I was half a world away.

Saki soon had a little brother, a cheeky tuxedo kitty who survived her witchery. When Tux could defend himself, they became fast friends, inseparable, intuitively connected. These two irascible felines brought much love and laughter to our home. Tux the sociable greeter, Saki the velvet-soft lover. When Bill passed away just two years ago, Saki took it upon herself to cuddle up with me every night, bringing sweet comfort that filled a void in my broken heart.

I have to admit, she was my favorite little girl. Hard to imagine my sweet little soft, furry girl, so full of love and impudence, has gone. I will miss her running wildly through the house, lapping fresh running water from the kitchen faucet, scampering high into a tree stirred by a sudden gust of wind, and nudging my face to kiss me goodnight with a gentle mew. The days and nights have lost a tender magic.

Shake-Down Cruise!

The sailing season has begun! Just a week ago, and it was one of those sparkling spring weekends you just feel so good to be alive. Trees covered in pale green fuzz of leaves bursting out, pollen filling the air, sky a crisp blue criss-crossed with contrails of jets passing high over Nashville. Time to go sailing again!

Friends from long ago have recently found me and renewed contact. Nancie had offered to help clean up the boat, but hey, this is too pretty a day to simply work, so I called her up to go on a shake-down cruise. Let’s make sure the Wanderin’ Star can still sail!

Mr. Honda starts up with just a little coaxing, and we cast off from the dock, weaving our way through the boats at anchor in the cove. Hard to imagine why more sailors from the yacht club are not out there doing the same.

We clear the marker buoys and once out in the main channel, hoist the main.

The sail billows excitedly, ready to GO! We hook on the jib to hoist it too, but nothing! The halyard – that combination of half rope and half stainless steel cable that hoists the foresail – is stuck. Won’t budge. Obviously jammed right up where it passes through the pulley at the very top of the mast. Of course! Nothing I try will dislodge it. Damn! Only two choices. Sail with just one sail – or climb the mast and free the halyard.

It only takes me a moment to make that decision. On a beautiful day like this, just too incredible to sail with only one sail. While newly appointed helmsman Ronnie holds us steady, I drop the main and Nancie gathers up the sail and straps it to the boom. We have a good team already. I begin my climb up the mast, legs wrapped around it like a monkey. Ronnie has grabbed the camera to record the event on film. I reach the halfway point, hauling myself up on the spreader bars, where I take a welcome break. Wow, I am really out of condition. Haven’t been working out for a couple of months, and I can tell. Ok, time to go the rest of the way. The mast towers almost 30 feet above the deck, the boat rolls a little in the breeze.

I take a deep breath, wrap my legs around the mast and start hauling. It gets harder with every foot. Nothing to hang on to except the pole. Concentrate. Hands grab higher, grunt, pull upward. Finally I am almost at the top, and reach high above my head to hang on to one of the stainless steel cables (main stays) for a little extra support. I have to hoist higher yet to pull on the stuck cable. It still won’t budge. Hoist myself up higher yet, and tug that thing upwards. It finally breaks loose. I am jubilant! Pull the two sides of the halyard with both hands to make sure it’s free and clear, hanging on with my feet. It slides easily through the pulley. We did it! Yay! Now we can really go sailing!

I slide down the mast in seconds and land on the deck –exhilarated. Nancie is open-mouthed in admiration. “I never saw anyone climb a mast before!” she exclaims. “Every cruise is a new adventure!” I explain with a grin. That’s the magic of sailing.

We sail for several hours, tacking this way and that, not trying to go anywhere in particular, simply enjoying cutting through the water and watching the sails billow in the wind. This is living in the moment.

Nancie is an experienced sailor, having spent time in the coastal waters of the Carolinas, and she’s eager to get current again after years away from the water. Her husband has given her permission to buy a boat this year, so she’s a perfect crew for me. Anyone who offers to spend time cleaning up a boat before ever getting the rewards of sailing, truly understands what sailing is all about. Half of the fun is simply messing about on boats.

Before the sun sets, we turn for home, and Nancie & Ronnie offer me back the helm. For all our years operating Wanderin’ Star Yacht Charters, Bill and I had the scenario pretty well organized. He manned the tiller, I did the sails. The forward deck hand, as I always acknowledged my position. Bill was the Captain. Of course, we actually shared everything, and that’s what made sailing so much fun. On all our boat charters, we always trained our new crew to steer the boat and run the sails.

If we ever had an emergency, they would be able to help handle the boat; they had fun, learnt new skills, and we’d joke that we could sit back and relax. Bill was such a natural teacher.

Truth be told, as much as we enjoyed teaching people how to sail, and sharing the joys of every adventure, the sweetest reward of many a cruise was when we dropped off our customers at Drake’s Creek, and sailed the Wanderin’ Star back to Harbor Island – just the two of us. Those special times alone together. We had shared a wonderful experience, given them a gift, and now we could simply enjoy those treasured moments together.

As I pointed for Harbor Island on a downwind run, I positioned the sails wing on wing – on opposite sides of the boat to catch the wind behind us. It was a fun balancing act, keeping the boat perfectly positioned, sails billowing.

The stereo had a beginning season malfunction, so no Jimmy Buffet music – Bill would have been crushed, as no cruise was complete without Jimmy Buffett! But as we passed a fishing boat, music drifted across the water, dancing in the late afternoon sunlight. Standing astride the helm, while the Wanderin’ Star cut through the gurgling water, sails full, I was caught by surprise by a flash of the deep happiness I always felt with Bill on so many, many similar occasions. I didn’t know such happiness was still so close at hand.

Maybe, when you celebrate the moments in life, love and joy and happiness are always just a breath away.

Moonbeams and Stars for Remembrance

It is the beginning of Passover, and a full moon is rising. Tonight it holds a different significance – for two years ago this was the night of Bill’s departure, his passing over into the presence of God.

Nearly 3500 years ago, the Israelites huddled in their homes awaiting the angel of death to pass them by untouched because they had the blood of the lamb smeared on their doorposts. While next morning the house of Egypt mourned the death in the night of every firstborn son, it marked the day of new life and new beginnings for the Israelites. They passed from 400 years of slavery, to freedom, departing on the next journey to the Promised Land, led by the One True God, who showed His faithfulness over and over again.

Two years ago, God was getting ready to take Bill by the hand, and lead him into the Promised Land. The blood of the Lamb had already been shed, the atonement had been paid, his safe passage through the valley of the shadow of death guaranteed.

It wasn’t until the morning before that I conceded it really might be his time to go. We had always embraced life with both hands. We'd seen our share of miracles, and knew nothing was impossible for God. We had raised our glass “To Whatever Comes Next” from the moment we met and fell in love. But for us both the real adventure always lay beyond this earthly dimension, and the next journey with God one we both anticipated with joy. “I’m ready to go, but I’m still having so much fun here!” Bill often said.

That last night all our close friends gathered in his hospital room, and we shared stories and toasted Bill’s life with champagne in that inimitable toast, “Here’s to Whatever Comes Next!” It’s always good. About to get better beyond belief. When 5:00am on that morning of March 30 ticked by, I was on my knees beside his bed, praying the 23rd Psalm. First out loud, and then silently.

I have to admit to being totally intrigued at what happens at the moment a person dies and leaves this earthly life. I had already told Bill “If God calls your name, it’s ok. You go.” How could I ever hold up my wonderful free-spirited sweetheart? There was no way. As I prayed silently “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the House of the Lord forever,” he breathed his last, and I handed him over to God. Simple as that. Now that’s assurance. There is not a shadow of doubt that Bill moved straight into the presence of God. Jesus was his friend, his confidant, his saviour. Arms outstretched. Grace extended to cover it all. We don’t have to be perfect. Just forgiven and redeemed.

I often see Bill, with my spirit eyes. Tumbling and laughing in exuberant joy. I catch glimpses of his irrepressible life in the moonbeams, and the stars on a clear velvet night. Just like I feel God’s breath on a warm summer’s evening, or hear His voice in the birdsong in the early morning, see His beauty in the dewdrops, or the flash of a butterfly’s wing. When I fall on my knees before my Creator every morning, I am always awed at the wonder of His creation, and the tenderness of His love. So very grateful for the love Bill and I shared, a foretaste of what is to come when I too step into the presence of my Lord and my God.

Life has always been filled with hope and promise. Don’t let anyone tell you different! Look deep into your heart, and you will find you too have a song yet waiting to be sung, dreams waiting to be fulfilled, and a divine destiny that God has planned for you. A butterfly emerges from a chrysalis, transforming from a mere earthbound caterpillar into a beautiful creature on wings of flight. How much more splendid is our destiny – we, who are created in God’s image!

As a tribute to the love of my life, I am adding a few favorite pictures that truly capture the essence of Bill. To all who have known and loved him – you are already blessed! Treasure every moment of life. Embrace the spiritual journey. Perhaps you too will see the shooting stars, the moonbeams shining softly on your pillow, and feel the warmth and tenderness of love in your heart.

Amazing that once again the clouds have cleared tonight, the full moon has risen, and as I am transported back to that night two years ago, I also find myself slipping from one past moment to another.

That first night under the windsock locked in a passionate embrace; sailing on a moonlit lake, caressed by a warm breeze; tiki torches flaring in a tropical night, surf crashing on the distant reef; the Hungarian maestro cradling his violin, eyes closed in his wizened gypsy face, as the haunting strains of "Fascination" echoed the story of our love.

Shooting stars and shark's teeth at midnight on the day we scattered Bill's ashes at sea. Sweet memories of life and love.

 

Fly-In Breakfast

Last week I experienced a whole new spin on breakfast. Sue and I met up with a fellow EAA pilot at Gallatin Airport at 8:00am, and hopped in his single engine four-seat Piper Archer to fly to a mystery location for breakfast!

We headed west over the pretty rolling hills of Middle Tennessee, the first time (unbelievably!) that I have flown in this area that has been home for the past 23 years. Since I’m about to get current flying again, this is a great opportunity to start recognizing landmarks and learn my way visually from the air. This was so much fun!

I love to think of all the times Bill flew home to Hendersonville, landing on the Martin’s field next to his family homeplace. He nicknamed it Hendersonville International Airport, and often talked of the time he took his Mom for her first airplane ride out of that field. She came out all dressed up in hat and gloves, and he dropped her off at Berry Field (now called Nashville International Airport), where she caught a bus into the city to go shopping.

Now, ironically, his aviation artwork has virtually taken over the Gallatin Airport, inspiring many up and coming pilots. I guess I’m one of them!

Forecast to be a clear day for flying, but cloud cover was already moving in from the west, making visibility a bit hazy. We flew along the edge of the restricted Fort Campbell airspace (on our northern edge), and after 53 minutes flying reached Houston County airport on the Tennessee River. Made our approach across the middle of the field to join the downwind leg of the circuit pattern.

As we rolled to the end of the runway, there were already about 9 other airplanes parked in the grass off the end of the strip.

We parked in the grass and walked through a gate to the nearby restaurant for a wonderful breakfast. I had Bill’s favorite. Bacon, eggs, crispy hashbrowns & coffee. Delicious!

We met up with a bunch of other pilots, many of whom Ray knew. The EAA (Experimental Aircraft Association) members often meet up in various locations for fly-in breakfasts on a Saturday morning. It’s a great excuse to go flying, make new friends, and explore new locations around Middle Tennessee. Maybe this dream of barnstorming America will actually come true one day!

On the return trip I got to fly co-pilot, but since Ray used the GPS and had it on autopilot, there wasn’t much to do!

We did find my house and circle overhead for a few photos, so that was fun to see it from the air for the first time (Google Earth isn’t quite the same!).

Interesting to see the winding Cumberland River where we have spent so much time sailing the Wanderin’ Star.

I can tell that I’m going to want to start keeping Saturday mornings free – just in case! This could get addictive!

Dual Citizenship

Australia and America have always been allies, and it's quite a privilege to now hold citizenship in both countries. Akin to marriage, this new commitment of dual citizenship brings with it a deeper sense of responsibility, and I'm looking forward to living that out.

I have always felt a deep loyalty to Australia, the land of my birth. As I looked up at the huge American flag waving in the breeze outside our church this morning, I realize that as a new citizen here, it's as though the country has formally adopted me, and my feet feel firmly planted on both sides of the Pacific. A rebel Aussie on Southern rebel turf!

But above all these sentiments of patriotism, I am reminded that my ultimate allegiance goes way beyond these two countries, to the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. My real home is not on this earth, but in God's heavenly Kingdom, and the following is my true Pledge of Allegiance...

I pledge allegiance to the Lamb

With all my strength

With all I am

I will seek to honor His commands

I pledge allegiance to the Lamb

To the Lamb of God who bore my pain

Who took my place, who wore my shame

I will seek to honor His commands

I pledge allegiance to the Lamb

(lyrics by Ray Boltz)

Citizenship Ceremony

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 26, 2010 - Today I pledged my allegiance to the United States of America, and was sworn in as a U.S.citizen.


I stood with 60 other people from 26 different countries in the tightly packed courtroom in Nashville. Saying the Pledge of Allegiance after being sworn in suddenly had new meaning. Now it was my personal commitment all the way.

Wow! There are so many marker moments along the journey to this day. So let me take you on a little trip. Take the time to stop and explore the couple of side roads along the way. And feel free to leave any comments at the end.

Falling in love with Bill over 30 years ago - my dashing Southern Gentleman from Tennessee - turned my heart towards America. The day I signed our marriage certificate, I also pledged allegiance in my heart to the country of his birth, as we united to become one. He took me on two extensive business trips to the States, and I was hooked! I began keeping a map of the U.S. beside our bed, dreaming of the wonders to be explored, new places and people and cultures, breathtaking sights, fascinating history. I studied it frequently till it was dog-eared with use, and Bill laughed every time I sang “I want to live in America!”

When our plans to buy property in Australia fell through, and his contract with the Australian Government drew to an end, we decided this was it! We packed our bags, stored or sold furniture and belongings, and in 1986 moved to the U.S., embarking on a new adventure together – now irrevocably connected to both countries.

I entered the U.S. with the coveted Permanent Resident status – a Resident Alien, as my “Green Card” stated. Immigration wasn’t very amused when I sat in their office in Honolulu airport with these alien antennae on my head (a gift from Australian niece Julie for the occasion!) to process my final entrance paperwork. Well, we thought it was funny!

We hit the West Coast, bought car and camping gear, and headed east to Tennessee. It’s been a grand adventure ever since. Reconnecting with Bill’s roots, living first in his old family homeplace. A thousand treasured times with his sons, nephews, brother, sister, and their families spread coast-to-coast. We have criss-crossed the country many times, camping, sailing, flying, and exploring. Tried various enterprises in a country that encourages entrepreneurism. Always drawn on by the creative urge. Blessed with an abundance of wonderful friends.

I’ve grown to care deeply about America, and the principles upon which it was founded. Life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness, equality, upholding the principles of morality and honesty and our God-given rights. I believe it both a responsibility and an honor to follow the call given by President John F. Kennedy – “Ask not what your country can do for you, but ask what you can do for your country.” Giving a hand up is far more productive than simply a hand out; building up people’s self esteem more enduring than robbing them of hope; and honoring God in all we say and do opens the pathway for God to bless this nation. I plan to use my new privilege to vote, and seek after accountability in this country.

Let’s now take a trip to the Tennessee State Legislature and listen in to the words of an amazing woman, Lt. Col. Courtney Rogers (Ret. USAF), whom I have had the honor of getting to know in recent months.
Click on the Session Start video on the left hand side of that page.

There is something so special about flags. Growing up in Australia, the sight of the Australian flag is a wonderful reminder of my country’s heritage and its place under Southern skies guided by the Southern Cross. Living in America I have come to appreciate a new flag – the Stars and Stripes with its colorful history dipped in blood. This is a country steeped in patriotism, and over the past 23 years I have pledged my allegiance to that flag more times than I can number. It is now filled with new meaning, as I metaphorically wrap that flag around my shoulders, embraced by the country that my husband was also prepared to die for.

I received my first U.S. flag two years ago. Presented to me in honor of Bill’s service during World War II as a pilot in the USAC/USAAF. Presented on the day we scattered his ashes around the big oak tree, and celebrated his life.

Take a moment to watch this short video clip to understand the patriotism my husband was honored for.

Thank you to the 20 friends who stood with me in that court room to mark this significant moment, including the two family who’d driven 12 hours from Florida, and the two friends who’d made the trip from Atlanta – and to those who were with me in spirit. Thank you all for welcoming me as a new citizen!

DUAL CITIZENSHIP

For many years Bill and I have kept our two countries linked. Bill as U.S. citizen and permanent resident of Australia; me as Australian citizen and permanent resident of the U.S. Several years ago Australia and the U.S. made a reciprocal agreement to allow a person to have dual citizenship. With Bill’s passing almost two years ago, taking off on the last Great Adventure, I felt I wanted to firmly plant myself and my loyalties in both countries. While always being proud to be an Australian, and proud of the land of my birth, I am also deeply committed to my adoptive country. So to all my fellow Aussies – have no fear, I have not sold my birthright!

I AM NOW A CITIZEN OF BOTH AUSTRALIA AND THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. A true Aussie American!