A lot has changed in Emerald, Central Queensland, since I was born there in 1963.
Back then the population was around 3000. Now it’s 10,600.
It did hit 16,000, but the mines shut down and about a third of the town’s people were gone in months.
RURAL TOWN LOBBIES FOR MENTAL HEALTH SERVICES
EMERALD CELEBRATES HEADSPACE FUNDING WIN
My first journey was a short one.
Mum carried me out of the hospital, then across the road to home, a pale blue weatherboard with a massive yard and lots of freedom.
I went to a primary school where we stood on parade in 110-degree heat (Fahrenheit back then) and when I saw a kid faint for the first time, I thought he’d carked it.
Hard to believe now, but our phone number was 260. The Brodies’ number was 249.
Number 1? That was Locke’s Garage.
You picked up the handset, turned a handle and the switch operator, Margie Boland, would physically plug your line into the one you wanted.
People with phones were called subscribers and there were fewer than 300 “subscribers” in Emerald, the gateway to the West.
Margie called herself the town’s “call girl” (it was funny to adults) and she was fond of recounting 4QD announcer Russ Tyson’s belief that: “General practitioners know a little about a lot. Specialists know a lot about a little. But the telephonist knows everything.”
For little blond me, life was very good. Barefoot and free range.
But even as a very young boy I knew drought was bad. It was a killer.
In drought, plants died, animals died, and some men died too, at their own hand.
But there was a solution to drought and my dad helped build it.
Fairbairn Dam. At capacity it holds five times more water than Sydney Harbour.
Irrigation changed Emerald and it became a cotton and citrus bowl as well as a service town for the coal mines and gem fields.
So it was with a lot of sadness I discovered that a half century later my hometown is described as the suicide capital of the Sunshine State.
In 12 months, 18 people have chosen the permanent solution.
Farmers have laid off labour. Small businesses stay open longer for less.
There’s no one to have knock-off drinks with anymore. No money. No rain … and only one way out.
Then there’s the ugly seducer called ice.
It’s cheap. Big, big highs to take a youngster out of smallsville for a day or two.
The despair and mental health issues rush at them later.
Word around town is that a recent cluster of young deaths was a sort of suicide pact.
Emerald Hospital offers mental health services, but some locals feel judged, especially if they are repeat clients.
The old bush attitude of “you can’t help someone if they don’t help themselves” still runs strong.
That’s why the arrival of Headspace would be a godsend.
This tight little community needs fresh faces and modern approaches to mental health treatment. Now.
Fairbairn Dam looks terrible. The water level is at record lows.
Stand on its banks and you don’t need Stephen King’s imagination to feel creeped-out by long submerged land and trees now shimmering in the heat.
It feels like the End of Days. Water is hope out there.
But as it has shown in other areas, Headspace can hydrate dry souls and irrigate barren futures.
It’s a tap the Queensland government could turn on with a flick of someone’s wrist.
*If you or anyone you know needs help, contact Lifeline on 13 11 14, Kids Helpline 1800 55 1800, SANE Helpline 1800 18 72 63 or beyondblue 1300 22 4636.