Jun 05

Evelyn Sarah Hadden – then Storer

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Today was the day that my family buried our mother.

In an emotional roller coaster we got through it.

It was terrific to be reunited with my brothers, sisters, nephews and nieces.

What a day.  I might blog about it later.

For now, here is the Eulogy that I gave about the life of my mum.

Eulogy:

Thanks to everyone for coming here today to celebrate the life of Evelyn, to some of us she was a sister, a mother, an aunty, a cousin, a friend.

To Brian she was the love of his life for over 60 years, a couple that were as close to each other as you could get.

Evelyn’s sister Eileen is also here today, there are many stories that Eileen and Evelyn shared over a cup of tea and a slice of a boston bun.

I wanted to acknowledge by name each and everyone one of the children, partners, grandchildren and great grand children, however, Father Pat said to keep this under seven minutes and there’s just so many of us…

Evelyn was born 1929, just down the road at Glenthompson, she was the 4th of 6 children born to Harold and Lena Hadden.

Her siblings, Eileen, Ada and George, Jimmy and Jeff moved about Western Victoria as their father was a blacksmith and he moved to wherever the work was.

Evelyn went to school in Glenthompson and Beaufort, and finished off at the high school in Hamilton.

After school she worked at the High Tone milk bar and then for a while at the Pixie Deli.

Her future father in law would always joke with her that he would bring in a box for her to stand on so she could see over the counter.

This was the time that Brian and Evelyn met.

They were both in a group of friends that knocked about together, made up of school and work mates.

Brian discovered that to win Evelyn’s heart he had to cut another bloke out of the picture to get to her.

The first time that they went out was to the Regent Theatre, Evelyn managed to get a free pass from the Deli where she worked.

It wasn’t a ticket to the regular seating, but to the upstairs area that was normally more expensive and something that neither of them would normally be able to afford.

It was in 1948 that Dad popped the question to Mum and then in this very church on September 24th 1949, they married.

The reception followed at the Hollywood Cafe and so began their lifelong marriage and love for each other.

It wasn’t too long before the first child was born, Evelyn quickly discovered that she relished the role of mother and she wanted more.

Over the next 17 years she was happy to stay at home and look after her expanding family, with a rest in hospital every 18 months or so.

When Dad’s sister Lois died, Evelyn also welcomed into the family Jack and Lois’s three children.  For a number of years she cared for them after school.

She never stopped doing things, Evelyn loved to sew, making clothes for all her children.

She had a Singer knitting machine that she would whip up many jumpers on.

She was keen on all manner of craft and for awhile was very keen on hobbytex, adorning almost every single hanging space in the house with her handiwork.

It was no mean feat to cook and feed that many mouths on a daily basis.

While we were sitting around talking about our mother during the last week, we tried to work out just how many dinners she put together for Brian and the 11 children.

Over a 17 year period we worked it out at about 155,000 individual meals that she served up, and on a roster basis that’s how many dinner plates we washed.

This never seemed to daunt Evelyn, not only did she prepare three meals a day, she also baked most days, there was always a constant supply of biscuits, slices and cakes.

She seemed to thrive at Christmas and for many years we had at least 75 mouths to feed over two shifts for Christmas Day.

With all the washing, ironing and mending going on, keeping us lot in line so that Brian could get his sleep for his shift work meant Mum had to be strong when it came to discipline.

In a motion faster than the speed of light she could take off a slipper and before we started to run away from her she could hurl that slipper with pinpoint accuracy.

Legend has it she perfected the curve throw,

and even though we might duck and weave

she could hit you on the back of the head even after you’d darted behind the green bush.

For most of our time growing up, we had no car.

It wasn’t until Mum turned 50 that she got her license.

And then only after Brian said he would buy her a car if she got her license.

Evelyn was your classic little lady driving a big car, barely able to see over the steering wheel.  But a marvellous achievement for someone who had never been behind the wheel.

With their family all grown up and gone from home, it gave her more free time, you’d expect her to relax, but no, she went out and got a job.  Cleaning.

It wasn’t long until she retired and her and Brian began to travel.

She would never miss a bit of an adventure, she would scramble over rocks, take walks and swim, she loved swimming.  Brian said she’d swim in a puddle in the back yard if she could.

A move to Queensland happened after they won Tattslotto, they had been making the trip north for several years, so it seemed like a good idea.

They lived there for about 8 years until Evelyn decided that she didn’t want to be buried on the Gold Coast, as she didn’t know anyone in the cemetery.

Back in Hamilton Evelyn and Brian made their home again, they continued to travel and they also welcomed their children and grandchildren into their home.

As the years went past they moved to Eventide, determined to live for as long as they could independently.

And here we are today, talking about the life of the Matriarch of our Family.

The woman from a family of 6, a mother to 11, grandmother to 30, great grandmother to 15.

She was our wife, our sister, our sister-in-law, our mother, our mother-in-law, our aunty, our cousin, our friend.

What a remarkable woman.

With a strong belief in her God she firmly believed He would look after her and Brian and her family.

Evelyn leaves behind a big legacy.

She loved her husband, loved each of her children and then their children and the great grand children.

She always took a great deal of interest in all of us, always keen for news about what was happening in our lives.

We can honour her life by remembering her.

Tell her story, the story of humble beginnings, the daughter of a blacksmith that raised 11 children, she maintained a family home and a family life.

From all of us, good job Mum, thank you.

Apr 29

Tomas is 18!

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It wasn’t too long back when his sister, Caitlin celebrated her 18th birthday.

Tomas reach adulthood in March, and just like I’ve done for every party since their first, we had it at home. Tomas decided not to have a big theme, he wanted everyone just to dress up in formal gear and come along.

I’d prepared a BBQ and plenty to eat.

Tomas and friends

At the party

Tomas friends are quite the eccentric lot.  Perhaps that’s more to do with my perceptions than theirs.  His friends seem to hold Tomas in high regard, and this shows through the interaction between them.  I can see a lot of mutual respect for each other and an openness between them,which is really quite lovely.

We hung some balloons, blu-tacked streamers to the walls, displayed photos, found a suitable range of music, dimmed the lights, spread the food, and got the slide show running.

I’d scanned many images of Tomas from the last 18 years, he was born in that time just before the invention of the digital camera!  Before the party started we watched the slide show on the TV, we laughed a little.  The photos show a young lad that has always been ‘out there’. We passed over a shot of Tomas sitting naked on the toilet, talking on the telephone, everything in full view.  It was only just before the party started that Tomas thought better of actually having his 3-year-old bits on display, so we deleted that one.  I wanted to leave it in!  Perhaps I’ll keep it for his 21st.

Jennie was there, she has always set herself little goals of being at something. It’s her way of snubbing her cancer, she won’t let it kill her, she has too much to do.  She wants to be about for a birthday, a graduation or to simply see who wins the cooking show on TV.  It’s difficult for her to be there under a great deal of pain.  I admire her stoic approach and it’s good that we make the most of these shared times.

sucking the helium

Story Time

The speeches came and Tomas’ grandparents had a few words, Jennie and Caitlin and then me.  I then had Tomas sit on my knee and with one helium filled balloon each we read “Green Eggs and Ham”.

The party wore on and for reasons that I don’t think I’ll ever understand, the young people congregate in the hallway.  There’s a whole house built around that hallway, with big open spaces, but they insist on sitting with their backs to the wall and chatting there.

Now both my children are 18. Tomas has passed that magic date. I’m looking forward to this new era of our lives.  For awhile now my role as Dad has been to encourage Tomas (and Caitlin) to take charge of their own lives, to make their own decisions. I’ve tried to give subtle guidance, well, at times not so subtle.  Now it’s down to them.

Just last week Michael and I went to the 1st Birthday party of a friend’s son.  I see the journey ahead for Daniel and Sam, along with  Rupert, as they start out on this trip through life.  I’ve just been on that road.   During the speeches at the 1st birthday party I listened as the parents of Rupert explained their wishes and desires for their son as he grows up.  The values that they wish to develop within him, while at the same time leaving plenty of space for Rupert to be his own person.  My journey hasn’t ended, there is still a long way for Tomas and Caitlin to go.  For my part, I hope that I’ve been able to set them up in life with the skills to  take charge of their own lives and be  the person they want to be.

Unfortunately my skills haven’t been able to extend to dishwashing or bedroom cleaning.

More wonderful photos taken by Michael here

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Dec 05

Equal or Not

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I’m a very resilient man.

Really, I am.

At the moment, I’m in Hamilton, town of my birth.  I’m here because my mother is dying.  I’m in the hospital looking down at this once great woman, who has been married to my Dad for over 60 years.  He’s here too.  Looking at his wife with a great unsaid sadness.

I don’t know how long this will go on.  I have no idea.

It’s very depressing.

On Saturday, while trying to deal with the overwhelming sense of loss there is another issue going on in the background.  Michael and I are listening and watching the reaction to the Labor Party conference and their decision to change their party platform.

Now, it seems, the Labor Party agree that my equality is worthy of attention.  They changed their party platform to allow marriage equality.  There’s a but.  But, they won’t force their parliamentarians to vote for the change.

During the debate at the conference, members of the Labor Party got up and said some of the most disgusting homophobic things I’ve heard come out of the mouths of people on the left of politics.

Outside the party, some rabid bloggers have geared up to further add to the groundswell of homophobia and hate.  The Australian Christian Lobby is falling over itself to denounce the move.

The Labor Party deciding to make this a conscience vote is truly insulting.  So many of their polices don’t get to be made on conscience.  Think of our fight on terrorism.  Think of the sale of uranium to India, think of the carbon tax.  Think of their support of the 2004 change to the Marriage Act that inserted the clause that ‘marriage is defined as between one man and one woman’ no conscience vote there.  Yet my right to marry the person of my choice has to be debated.DSC_8561.JPG

I’m tired of this.  The party lets ignorant homophobes use their  party platform to spout intolerance.  This really does make me feel like a second class citizen.

I’m not treated equally, because I’m gay.

Yep, this is a significant change, it’s a step forward.  At last there seems to be a shift happening.

We’re not there, it wears my resilience down to hear again how my sexuality will destroy society, how my parenting is second rate, how I’m not worthy of full equality.  How I have to be happy that about 80 bits of legislation has been changed and I should be grateful.

I’m aware of how insidious homophobia is.  This sort of rhetoric from the religious right gains the media’s attention, and the homophobes continue to get tacit permission to inflict their hate on others.

Gillard and those who oppose full equality want to be seen as accepting of gay people, but their actions don’t match their words.  They give approval to the far christian right to continue with their lies and they don’t challenge the misinformation that is being trotted out.

The rights of the citizens of this country is not something that should be debated.  My rights should not be up for discussion.  I’m not christian, I don’t accept that christianity should have any bearing on my life. Yes, people have a right to believe what they like, as deluded as I think that might be.  I don’t get why those beliefs have to impact and influence a secular state and government.

As I watch my Dad bend and kiss his wife of 62 years and whisper something into her ear that is shared between the two of them, I see a commitment in marriage.  He is not questioned as to what he’s saying, his actions are not scrutinised.  My mothers sister isn’t screaming for him to get away from her, her children aren’t discouraging his public display of affection.

They’re married.

 

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Nov 13

A School Play

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I talk to my two children all the time.  Sometimes, they talk to me.  As Tomas did recently, to talk about an upcoming play for drama that his class was working on.

Tomas wasn’t so keen to participate as he was worried I might frown up the topic, which was the Westboro Baptist Church.  The Reverend Fred Phelps runs the church and uses the slogan “God hates fags”.

Just as an aside, there is no god to hate fags.

I was happy that Tomas raised it with me, and we spoke about the implications of doing a play based on such hate. I had a few questions about the content and then told Tomas that as he’s only acting, he should do it.  I’ve been abused and vilified many times in my life because of my sexuality.  I was pretty sure I could cope with this.

The expected performance date arrived, however they weren’t quite ready, so the play was moved to 4.00 p.m. during the week.  I really didn’t want to miss this, so I left work, not worried about leaky roofs, telco technicians or illegal rubbish dumpers!  They could all wait until tomorrow.

It was made clear from the outset that the play was mostly unpolished, the play was the work of the students and it had some swear words in it.

First scene was a sermon from Fred Phelps in his church, telling us that god hates fags.  It was certainly something to sit in the theatre and hear those words spat out by a teenager.  A few nervous titters from the audience as we copped the full force of the hatred emanating from the Westboro Baptist Church.  We had a choir singing “God hates fags”.

We got the perspective from some young members of the congregation who looked into the distance and said that’s where the gays live, and showed how indoctrination can impact on children. They showed a fear of people they’d never seen.  Thought that the gays were monsters and to be avoided.  The dissenting voice among them was corrected by peer pressure and the hate continues into the next generation.

We also had a taste of the ‘traditional family’ where the talk was about slavery (being acceptable) the roles of men and women and the tension between those traditional roles where women are fundamentally subservient to their husbands.

Finally there was a coming out scene. We saw two families.  One family embraced their son,the other family rejected him.

This was quite an emotional moment as we saw the full impact of rejection on a young man.  His family cast him out.  He was left devastated and in tears.

The other family offered nothing but love and support for their gay son.  They embraced him, hugged him and accepted him for who he was.

I grew up in a time when people hated people who were gay.  It was nothing to be called a poof, a poofter, a fag or a faggot. Despite trying to be a small target, my school life was full of taunts and rejection, it really did hurt.

To see a bunch of teenagers actually stand up on stage and take on homophobia in such a direct way is a marvel.  Sure, it was challenging to sit there and listen to laughter at the expense of ‘the fags’ but as the play progressed there was less laughter from the audience.  A few times I wanted to stand up and make a speech about the real impact of this type of homophobia.

The students did a fantastic job, giving me hope that in some parts of the world everything will be alright.  Sure, there’s still hatred and misinformation out there, but here is a school, a student body, who has respect for all people.

Congratulations to them all.

Oh, and somewhere during the crowd scene, I’m sure I heard the call of a wild wookie.

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Oct 22

And then there was 10

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Helen Edwards June 18th 1960 to October 19th 2010

I was standing in the office at the Charman Road shop when my sister Angela called me. I’d had an early start to my Monday and had a full day planned.

The minute she said hello I knew that this was a difficult conversation for us. All she said was that Helen was in hospital in intensive care. Without thinking I said I’d be right there – there was no need to ask or to elaborate, it was perfectly clear to me that Helen had reached a point of no return and Angela didn’t want to do this bit alone.

I picked her up and we drove to Ballarat, straight to the hospital. We were a bit before visiting hours, so we found something to eat and returned. Helen’s husband Rod came down and escorted us up to ICU.

Helen was sitting up in bed, she had various tubes and pipes attached, but still quite lucid and able to chat. Alas, she had lost her voice so was just whispering to us. She was alert and engaging, asking all the questions about my family and what was happening. She chastised us for being there, gave us a scowl.

We stayed awhile before heading back to town. We promised Rod we’d visit again the next day.

First thing next morning Angela rang me again, Helen wasn’t well again. We jumped in the car, knowing that this time it was more serious, this time we understood that death wasn’t far away.

When we arrived Helen was on her bed, back on the ward and was very clearly in a great deal of discomfort. Rod and the children, Melissa and Daniel where there and they all were very clearly distressed. The staff had given Helen something for the pain and slowly her breathing calmed and she seemed better. She was sleeping.

My brother Shane arrived and we sat in the room, mostly in silence. Helen continued to rest. One by one we each spent a few minutes alone with her, able to speak just one on one. It was a very emotional time.

Angela and I stayed til about 6.00 p.m. and as Helen appeared to be stable, we decided it would be ok to go home and return in the morning.

At 11.00 p.m. Angela called me to tell me that Helen had died.

My family of 11, 7 boys and 4 girls was now 10.

I was driving home from dinner.

I stopped on the side of the road. With a family this large we have to split up responsibilities. I again made the rounds of ringing my list of siblings to deliver the news. In between calls liaising with Shane and Angela to make sure we had everyone covered.

It was difficult.

Angela called to tell me about the last moments for Helen. Rod, Melissa and Daniel had returned to the hospital after taking some time to shower and freshen up. They where keen to get back in time for ‘trolley time’ when the hospital supplies some wine or beer to patients. They where laughing and joking with each other. Remembering the times when Helen had to go to hospital, they always joked about making it in time for the trolley. Gathered around my sister, in this moment of light hearted humour, Helen passed away.

What a way to go.

I’ve been on the side lines in all of this. I wanted to support Angela, make sure that she’s ok. For her this has been an incredible roller-coaster and I’m glad I’ve been able to stand beside her and just be there. I admire her for her courage and unconditional love for her sister. Angela extends that love and concern to Helen’s children, Rod and then to others in our family. It’s an amazing thing to watch and I stand in awe.

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