Karolyn Gibson came highly recommended for this Q&A, with more than a few locals insisting she had a story worth telling, and that I wouldn’t get a straight or boring answer out of her if I tried.
What I didn’t expect was to walk into a room that felt less like an interview and more like a long table lunch already in full swing. A mix of friends and strangers, plates filled with homemade paté and grazing platters, wine on ice, and conversation moving in every direction at once.
So, in the spirit of how the afternoon unfolded, and because it was never going to be just Karolyn answering quietly in a corner, some of the commentary from those around the table is also included.
1. Tell me something fun and unusual about yourself that would shock islanders.
Jenell: Nothing would shock them. Everyone knows her. Everyone smiles when she walks into the bowls club. Broad smiles all round.
Raylene: If she went home early, that would shock us.
Karolyn: I just have a little difficulty answering that question…I’ve had a fairly full life. I don’t call a spade a spade, I call a shovel a backhoe. I skip the shovel entirely and go straight for the big one. My bluntness gets a reaction, but it’s always my truth; and I’ll happily debate it.
There was a pause at the table before she continued, grinning.
I was a metre maid and clothing and advertising model on the Gold Coast. In the mid-60s I worked for Benson & Hedges, walking around with cigarettes and a lighter, lighting people up. Different times.
I was also in Playboy in 1966, the ‘Girls of Australia’ feature. The book got sent out here and was confiscated as it was illegal at the time.”
People think that would shock islanders. It doesn’t. Nothing really does anymore.
Oh, and I did have a boyfriend once who was 20 years younger. Beautiful to look at. Like a Ken doll. But absolutely no finesse. I couldn’t even remember his name in the end. He just became “Ken Doll.”
She pauses again, then adds almost as an aside that she holds two degrees; one in teaching, and another in media and website design; before shrugging, as if it’s just another thread in a much longer story.
2. When and why did you come to the SMB Islands - honestly?
Karolyn: I was living at Wellington Point in a unit and someone said, “Have you seen Russell Island?”
I came over expecting to just have a look. I hated the noise where I was living and always wanted island life.
Back then you could buy waterfront properties for around $68,000. I said no at first, too many homes had been “bastardised.” Then I found an old Queenslander. I had about $15 to my name. I put $5 down and promised the rest on settlement. I had $10 left and went straight to the bowls club.
I met “Bushie” there, bought two drinks, and wrote a contract on the spot, subject to husband approval and bank finance. That was it. I was in.
3. What are you known for here, and what are you afraid you’ll be remembered for?
Carolanne: “She’s a straight shooter. Says it how it is.”
Karolyn: I hope I’m known for accepting everyone, no matter who they are or what they do. I don’t judge. I don’t do religious slurs. I try to be generous and honest.
I suppose I’m afraid I’ll be remembered for my bluntness…for calling a spade a backhoe when I probably shouldn’t.
But I also think people know I’m a woman who knows who she is and what she wants without apology.
4. What have the islands changed about you that you didn’t consent to?
Her best friend, Raylene leans in and says, “You’ve downgraded your expectations,” which immediately sparks disagreement at the table. Karolyn shakes her head.
Karolyn: I moved from the country to what I thought would still feel like the country. I used to know everyone. There was a rhythm to life.
Now, I feel like something has shifted. Russell Island has lost a bit of its soul. I miss the wildlife, the trees, the quiet. I’m still a country girl doing country things, but the world around me feels different than when I arrived.
5. What part of yourself only exists because of the islands?
Karolyn: I don’t believe in “only.” I am who I am everywhere I go. But I will say this; life shaped me. My father was strong on me. At the time I didn’t always appreciate it, but now I understand it gave me resilience. Without that, I don’t think I would have survived some of what life threw at me.
The islands have reminded me to keep accepting people. To see beyond the surface. There are so many identities here, so many stories. You just have to be willing to listen.
6. What’s the strangest advice you’ve ever followed?
Nat: “Bite off more than you can chew and then chew like hell.”
Lynda: “To eat an elephant, it’s one bite at a time,” and “If you’re in mixed company, remain stoic and don’t judge people.”
Karolyn: My father once told me “Every rule is made to be broken; but if you break it perfectly, the result is perfection,” and “Wherever there is a cause, there are consequences.”
I carried that advice with me through 55 years of teaching.
7. What’s a mistake you’re glad you made?
Carolanne: I was looking for a home on Lamb Island but ended up on Russell.
Karolyn: Trusting the wrong person changed my life completely. My best friend stole my husband and I was left with two babies and a half finished house. That was a turning point; not something I’d ever repeat, but something that shaped everything that came after.
8. What small thing gives you the most joy here?
Karolyn: This. Friends around a table. Intelligent conversation. Laughter. Ideas being challenged and shared. I love learning. I love hearing different perspectives. I love being surrounded by women like this - strong, funny, thoughtful women - and young people too. It’s the conversation that matters. Always has been.
There are loud cheers of agreement, a clink of glasses, and the conversation rolls on, right where it left off.
What began as a Q&A never stayed contained for long. It became something else entirely, lived, shared, interrupted by laughter and memory and opinion. And perhaps that’s the point. On islands like ours, stories aren’t told in isolation. They are passed across tables, reshaped in conversation, and kept alive by the people willing to keep talking.
