By Sheila Harrison
The exercise was:
'You are the person at the bottom of the page. You are attending an interview to explain why you feel you should be permitted to pass through the Pearly Gates. If you don't believe in Judgment Day — then use your imagination.'
When unfolded, the page revealed the name of a famous person, whether historical, legendary or both.
Sheila got Slim Dusty. Not being Australian-born, she had to do some research. Now she loves him as the rest of us do!
Well at last I can see the light, yes it is a tunnel. I’m flying fast, the light is getting brighter and brighter; I’m slowing down, slowing; I have landed on my feet in front of a large pearly gate. This is what I have been told to expect but somehow I never quite believed it.
Oh, the gate is opening. I can see this majestic figure with a flowing beard and long hair, in a white robe, with the most beautiful smile and twinkling blue eyes.
“Hello Slim, it’s good to see you. I’m Peter. Now I just have a few questions that the boss would like you to answer before I can let you in. I hope you don’t mind.”
Peter pointed to a seat in front of the gate. I sat down.
“So Slim, can you tell the boss why you think you deserve to live in heaven now that you have made your transition? Tell him what you have been doing in the last seventy six years.”
I looked directly in into those twinkling eyes. “Well doesn’t he, isn’t he meant to see everything?”
“Well yes, Slim, but you must realize he is very busy and that’s why he has his guardian angels to look after each individual. But what he is really after is you to tell him in your own words. It’s alright, he will be listening; it’s all being recorded directly to him.”
“Oh O.K. Well I was born in Kempsey on June 13th 1927. I was christened David Gordon Kirkpatrick. I was called Gordon — my mum told me that I was born because my brother Georgie had died with meningitis at the age of nine; they couldn’t get him to the hospital on time.
“My dad played the fiddle and sang lots of Irish and Music Hall songs. He also had a very loud voice and he would recite poetry by Patterson & Lawson; he was known by his friends as Noisy Dan. Yes, he was loud. My granny was Irish; she gave me a portable wind-up as a present. The needles were always wearing out but I really loved it. I bought my first guitar from a Nulla Nulla farmer, it cost 30 shillings; that was a lot of money in those days but my lessons were free. I practised the clear chords which were on the radio shows, being played by my favourite singing cowboy Buddy Williams, whenever I could. I guess he might be here; it would be good to talk to him.
“I realized I had a gift, which your Boss must have given me, and I didn’t want to waste it.
“I decided to change my name to Slim Dusty; all my friends called me Slim. Shorty, my best friend, and I got our first break on Radio 2km; it was great. I finished school at 12 and helped Dad on the farm, but my dream was set and I knew it would happen. I started writing songs. The war came, which slowed things down a bit. I was 18 when I wrote When the Rain Tumbles Down In July. That song became a classic — not that I got any royalties for it. I signed my first recording contract with Columbia Gramophone for the Regal Zonophone Label. I met Joy, my wife, in ’51. She and her sister had a live yodelling show. We have two kids, Anne & David. Anne sings with me. She has a lovely voice. David’s a doctor but he’s a really good singer too and so are my grandchildren. We sometimes all sing together. ‘One big happy family’: it was great.
“We lived like gypsies travelling the whole of Australia to all the small townships, giving pleasure to all — I knew it was what I was meant to do. I loved it with every fibre of my body. I felt the spirit —your boss I mean — was with us through rain and storms. Dan Sheanen had written a poem that one of my band members, Pearson, had got hold of and restored to eight verses and set to music; it was Pub with no Beer. Pearson gave me half the rights: lucky me!
“I had no idea what a bonanza that song would be. It made us a fortune — and enabled us to continue our gypsy life, bringing joy to all.”
“Did you make enemies on the way?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“You had lots of accolades.”
“Yes, I suppose I did — but don’t you see, I was doing what I was born to do. It was my dream. It was a wonderful gift he gave me and I wanted to use it for as long as I could. In fact I would like to, if you let me in, go on using it. Can I?”
Peter stood up, put his arms around me and hugged me.
“Come on in, Slim, you are welcome and he is waiting for you.” I felt all tiredness and sickness drift from my body and just a warm glow surrounding me as I walked through the pearly gates into the arms of Love. I thought to myself, I must write a song about this.
Slim Dusty 13 June, 1927 – 19 September 2003
