I have talked about â€˜Eternityâ€™ before, so please excuse my return to the subject, which has been prompted by two quite different sightings this week.
Arthur Stace, â€˜The Eternity Manâ€™, stealthily chalked the word â€˜Eternityâ€™ on Sydney pavements from the 1930s to the 1960s. Even though Sydney is often accused of being a shallow and superficial city,Â Sydneysiders still perpetuate the memory of Stace’s one-word warning. Last Monday, for example, I found it chalked on the footpath in Pitt Street near Bridge Street, just round the corner from the Stock Exchange. It was written neatly but the handwriting did not approach Staceâ€™s masterly copperplate.
If you believe in the afterlife, â€˜Eternityâ€™ is a powerful reminder to examine the deeds of your present life to ensure you will enter the kingdom of heaven. It was a sermon by evangelical Baptist, the Reverend John Ridley, that inspired the recently-converted Stace to embark on his footpath mission. â€œWhere will you spend eternity?â€, thundered the preacher.
But even for non-Christian Sydneysiders, â€˜Eternityâ€™ has resonance. Is it simply that they embrace the novelty of a home-grown eccentric who mysteriously but doggedly left his mark on city streets for over thirty years?
Or is there some deeper feeling involved? Does Staceâ€™s message touch on an unspoken guilt about the kind of legacy Sydneysiders will leave?Â In the very centre of the city is Sydney Harbour, so beautiful with its sparkling water and tree-lined coves, that is easy for people to be reminded how this place might have been before empire-building ambitions laid waste the bush and scattered its original inhabitants.
Perhaps I am wrong about this. Perhaps we should not look to cultural commentators like me, or historians, poets and artists, for an interpretation that explains the appeal of â€˜Eternityâ€™. Perhaps instead we should look to the manufacturers of facial tissues.
On Friday I lunched at a bowling club â€˜bistroâ€™ in Liverpool, a city some 40 km west of the centre of Sydney. Instead of paper serviettes there was a box of â€˜Eternityâ€™ brand tissues on each table. These are apparently manufactured in a Sydney suburb and the typography used for the name cannot be a coincidence. So for me it was particularly interesting to read the vacuous message on the box that was meant to complement the inspiring brand name: â€˜Pursue in your dreams and anything is possibleâ€™.