Connections to the Past

My attempt at an arty photo

Connections to family are important to me.  The vase that I grew up seeing in my Grandmother's house now sits in my house.  The chairs that belonged to my other Grandma occupy space in my study and my library.  I can see these things on a daily basis and remember the good times, the connections I had remain strong even though sadly both my grandmothers are no longer living in the physical sense.


When my hubby's mother died, his family divided up a some of wedding presents that my mother in law had kept in a cupboard and rarely used.  There were some beautiful items, and each of the children took away something that linked them back to their parents.  Hubby chose a set of six small cut crystal glasses, still with their original maker's sticker, which we have recently started using when we indulge in a little muscat, they are beautiful glasses to drink from and each and every time I feel a connection.


Last weekend a new connection to family was made when my Aunt, my father's sister, sent me a gift.


You see, when I was growing up, my Aunt and her family lived overseas for much of my childhood and then when they returned to Australia, they settled in Canberra as my Uncle was in the Diplomatic Service.


We didn't get to see them often and they were my fantasy family, living in exotic lives in far off places.  I remember how excited I was when they used to come to visit, I remember the gorgeous doll my Aunt sent me.  Later in life, my Aunt would visit more often, but still years went by between the visits.


I was overwhelmed when she contacted me recently to say she wanted to send me a gift.  It was hand delivered by her eldest son last weekend.  I am even more overwhelmed now.  So overwhelmed that I can't ring her so I wrote to her instead.  

Dear Aunty V

When you called me a few months back to say you wanted me to have your pearls I was overwhelmed with your generosity.  Little did I know how emotionally overwhelmed I would be when I actually opened them. 

While I have not had the pleasure of seeing you on a regular basis while I was growing up, or even as an adult, given the physical distance that has always separated us, I always held you warmly in my heart.

You and your children were my fantasy family, living a life of excitement, travelling and living around the world.  I am sure that your reality was in some cases quite different.

One thing I always remember when you did come to visit was the smell of your perfume when you cuddled me. That smell was reassuring, it was warming to my spirit and in some way luxurious to me.

Imagine my surprise when I opened your wrapped gift to be enveloped by that scent. I thought at first it was just the box that held the pearls, but no, it is there on the pearls themselves.  

You can not begin to understand how that made me feel. It took me back to my childhood, it took me back to your embrace and it bought more than one tear to my eye.

I will wear your pearls with pride and pleasure; I hope the scent of you remains there for a long time, a treasured reminder of the gracious and generous lady who gave them to me.

With much love
K xxx

Connections to the past keeping those people in the present.

One Of Those Years - 1977

Have you ever had a year that lots of major things happened?

1977 was one of those years for me.

Jan - I confirmed I was pregnant for the 2nd time, to a man I loved who was not my husband but who I knew was my soul mate. I had suspected as much late in 1976 but was too scared to take any tests.

March - the father of my unborn child moved in to share his life with my eldest daughter and I and to await the birth of our child.

June - I gave birth to my 2nd daughter.

July - I filed for divorce from my first husband who had left 18 months before.

September - We bought a new house and moved in, still there 33 years later.

November - my decree nisi was granted.

November - I married my soul mate, and we are still just as much in love 33 years later.

2001 is another year that had many memorable events - as it comes up to the 10th anniversary of that year, the events that happened are very much on my mind - I will put together a post early in the New Year.

Memories on Monday - When I Turned 12

The year I turned 12 was a year of change for me. I started at a new school, in Year 7 which here in Perth is the final year of primary school.

My parents divorced and my mother re-married. I had to get used to having a step-father, who actually is a fantastic man, but boy did I give him curry that year - sorry Pop.

I wore my first bra for a few hours (a 2nd hand training bra from my cousin) even though I did not need one - but all the other girls were getting boobs and I wasn't, so tissues filled it out - LOL.

I missed all my school friends from my old school and never really made any at the new ones, thankfully that changed the following year when I started high school and met some great girls.

I always felt like the odd one out that year. No boobs, no friends, new house, new school, but I also had my first boyfriend - even though that only lasted a few weeks - he was new to the school as well. He was a year older than me and had come over from England, so I thought it was all great, until he asked me to have sex ... so it was goodbye and don't talk to me again, thank you very much!! I mean I was 12!

I'm sure that all girls of 12 feel awkward, it is the time between childhood and being a teenager, but even though so many things seemed to be hard that year, I still look fondly back as these photos and think that life really wasn't too bad after all.

My 12th birthday party, that's me with the long white socks with my brother and 2 friends of the family - oh and the boyfriend is on the end. Oh and the dress was a gorgeous mustard colour, with brown and white checked collar that my Mum made.

This is my Mum and Step-Dad's wedding, the first time I got to wear stockings - and yes they were stocking with suspenders, not pantyhose. I still have the soft lemon bridesmaid dress with lace sleeves that Mum made in my wardrobe.

Photo A Day - February Challenge - Day 10

Pretty Things - Part 2

This gorgeous fruit salad bowl (also has 4 little miniature bowls to serve in to) was my mother-in-laws. It was a wedding present when they married in 1954 - so coming up to 56 years old. There are a couple of small chips in two of the bowls which I wonder if I can get ground out. I think it is really special and a link back to my hubby's family. All the bowls are a soft green glass with frosted flowers and golden leaves, on 3 little curled feet.

I can see I am going to have to start throwing small dinner parties to use some of these lovely things I am inheriting.

Photo A Day - February Challenge - Day 9

Pretty Things Part 1

This pretty thing is a recent addition to my house, not to the family, but to my house. Last Thursday I called in to see my Mum and she was going through and packing away some of the bits and pieces she no longer uses. She is packing them off to the op shop. She has kept a few things for me if I wanted them including this crystal salad bowl - I love the shape.

This salad bowl has a history - it was my Grandma Win's and is at least 60 years old and still in pristine condition, even though Mum assures me it was used regularly. Mum still remembers Grandma putting an inverted saucer in the bottom, then shredded lettuce and layers of sliced tomatoes on top. Apparently the cucumber was in another bowl! I asked Mum why the saucer, and she told me that any moisture collects under the saucer and stop the salad getting soggy. Well I never!!

I love the way the crystal is picking up the colours of my wooden table and the wall behind it.

Tomorrow will be another pretty thing with history.

Did I Get It Wrong

I was originally going to do this as a Memories on Mondays post, but then thought that maybe it was better just as a normal post that talks about what we remember and why.

I've blogged before about my love/hate relationship with my Dad. I always felt growing up that I was never good enough for him, that his life always took precedent over his love for me. I'm not sure that this is not true, but in the process of scanning photos I found these.

Now in all these photos I am no more than 3 which is
pretty obvious in the first couple.

So did I get it wrong, did he actually love me more when I was a child than I give him credit for? Am I being too hard on him? Is it that we are just such different people that as an adult I would not choose him for a friend?

Could it be that my memories have been warped by the upheaval of our lives, that I am tainting my own memories of when I was very young by the bitterness that I thought I had left behind?

The fact remains I really do not like who my father is now, he is a polar opposite of me, but maybe just maybe when I was young, before I learned to talk back and question his motives and authority, he was more loving and caring that I give him credit for.

Memories - strange things sometimes.

Will It Be Sentimental Sundays or Memories on Mondays?

My eldest daughter over at childhood101 posted about holidays when she was little, which got me thinking as I was going through my photo album of her (to let her know how old she was in this photo) that I really should scan a lot of my old photos. This in turn led me to contemplate sharing a photo and the story behind it. Now should I do it as Sentimental Sundays or Memories on Mondays? Let me know what you think, and while you do that I will start with the stories (yes there is a recent and an older story) behind this photo.

This photo was taken in 1974 at the beach at Gracetown in the South West of Australia. I was around 18 1/2 and Christie probably around 14 months. My first hubby built a shack at Gracetown with his Dad over a number of years and we used to go down there every spare moment we had. We loved the relaxed atmosphere, he would go surfing and Christie and I would go swimming (this was before my fear of sharks got out of hand, but I would only go if I could see the sandy bottom) and we would all go fishing for herring or whiting. During that summer we lived at Bunbury (also south of Perth) right over from the road from the beach and every morning I would take Christie over there to play - it was the only time I have ever had a tan that lasted any length of time. I really enjoyed those mornings on the beach, we were back home by 10.30 so never got sunburnt.

Now the new story - Christie asked me on FB how to round corners on a photo for her post. She then said something like you will laugh when you see which ones I am using (there was another of just her). I replied - I might grimace if it is one of me. To which she replied, well it is of you looking windswept, then she wrote and buxom. I replied, the one of me in the water with you at Gracetown? She was puzzled how I had guessed - well - this is the only pic of me in bathers where I look both windswept and buxom and so how could I ever forget. Oh, and this was me, when I still loved the way I looked so another reason not to forget.

So, shall is be Sentimental Sundays or Memories on Mondays? Look forward to your thoughts.

A Lesson For Us To Learn

Today we put my DH's Mum's ashes to rest with his Dad. My DH spoke so beautifully about his belief that the 2 of them are together now, and that his Mum no longer has her shuffle or her slurred speech (she had Parkinsons) and that the 2 of them were dancing together (they were beautiful dancers).

After the brief ceremony we went back to one of his sister's houses to sort through the remaining boxes of his mother's stuff. A lot of the everyday items were sold or given to family when she moved into the nursing home a few years ago, but there were about 10 boxes of varying sizes that she would not part with. So my s-i-l had stored them at her place just in case my m-i-l wanted anything - she never did, but that was her wish.

It took around 3 hours for us to choose what each of us wanted to keep - there was no fighting over any of these things - everyone was open and honest about what they wanted and what they didn't. However what became apparent to me and left me with a sense of sadness, was that the items taken were so few in comparison to the items available. So the pile of items going to the antique/second hand dealer is large and I am sure there is some items that are worth something in a monetary sense but the tragedy is that they also are worth far more in a sentimental and family sense. She had kept all her precious wedding presents - most never used. There was some jewelry, some of it her mothers and some of it hers - but none of the family knew which was which or why some of the other items she has felt so passionately about keeping were kept. They meant something to her, but nothing to us.

So please talk to your children about the past, show them the things that mean a lot to you, tell them the stories of your mother's jewelry or grandmothers buttons, or whatever it is. For if like us today, you don't know the stories - you can not feel a connection to that which is left behind. My m-i-l was never a great talker, and so if this is you, then take a photo and write down a note to explain and leave it with the item - anything to give your children and grandchildren a window to the past and a chance to connect. For once it is gone it is gone - there were some beautiful pieces of china that I am sure had stories to go with them, it is just we never heard the story when my m-i-l was alive and so to us they were just bits of china - nothing more, nothing less, but to her they must have meant a lot.

Moments In Time - The Reason Why

Recently we learned of the death of 2 men - 1 a friend of ours and 1 a friend of my middle daughter - both were around my age. We never know how long our journey will be and so I thought it was time I wrote down some memories and thoughts so that my grand-daughters (and even my children) knew what I felt at certain times in my life. There is no rhyme nor reason to which ones comes when, although the ones about the week in August and my eldest grand-daughter's birth were relevant to dates and what memories they stirred up in me at the time.

Many years ago before her death my grandmother wrote a book about her life called The Clock of Time. I don't think I will ever get that done, but nonetheless it may be that sometime in the future one of my grandchildren asks a question about their grandma - hopefully these small snippets will help them and others to know me more fully - especially if I am no longer here.

My grandmother's book ends with the following verse - not hers and she does not quote the author

The clock of life is wound but once
And no man knows when the hands will stop
At late or early hour
Now is the only time we own
Live, love and work with a will;
Place no faith in tomorrow
For the hands may then be still.

Moments in Time - My First Grandchild

Dear C

I remember so clearly the day your Mum came and told us she was pregnant - she had not long been living away from home, she was just 18 and she bought her best friend with her for support. Somehow I knew what she was coming to tell us. I think she was worried we would be angry - but how could I be angry, I had my first child at 17 - why would I cast stones. Did I worry about her being a young Mum - of course I did, it is not an easy road, but then being a parent at any age is a challenge.

Not long after the big news, we found out that your Mum was going to be a single mum - your Dad was not going to be part of the journey. I knew that it would be okay as your Mum is a survivor and she would do the best she could even though she was on her own.

Your Mum moved back in with us a few months before you were born and we got to see first hand how her tummy swelled, we got to talk to her about the doctors visits and I got to go the ultrasound when you were just 18 weeks old - how excited I was to see you moving about with all the boxes ticked to show you were healthy and well.

I got to help Mum chose your clothes, pram and car seat - we got your crib and had fun getting it all ready for when you arrived.

We got to talk with your Mum while she chose names - Lachlan James was going to be your name if you were a boy - and a boy is what we thought you were going to be - the Dr had told your Mum he thought she was having a boy following one of the ultrasounds he did in his surgery about 6 weeks before you were born. And so I would rub your Mum's tummy and talk to you and call you Lachlan - I wanted you to know your name and how much you were loved even before you were born.

Your Mum and I went to 'birth classes' together as I was going to be Mum's 'birth partner' - I was so excited as I had never been involved in someone else giving birth - and it is not the same as when you do it yourself.

Mum got bigger and bigger and then her feet began to swell with fluid and I was worried that her kidneys were not coping, but the Dr kept saying all was okay - which really wasn't totally true.

Your due date came and went and your Mum got bigger and so they decided to induce you. I took Mum to hospital the night before you were born and was to come back in the morning to be there for the birth. I arrived at the hospital at 8 o'clock and was so excited when I was walking in to see your Mum - today was the day that we were going to meet. The drugs they used on Mum worked really fast and she was already in labour when I got there - but they also did something strange to your Mum and she kept lapsing in and out of consciousness - I was so worried that something was really wrong - and the nurses didn't know what was happening either, so they stopped the drugs - but your Mum still was only semi conscious most of the time.

The doctor arrived around 11.30 to check Mum out as the nurses had rung him and your Mum managed to say 'I want to push' and of course the Dr said 'No you don't'. Then he checked and said 'Oh yes she does' and so we all rushed around to the delivery room, nurses and Dr and me pushing your Mum's bed, whizzing past other people walking down the corridors.

We somehow managed to get your Mum from her bed onto the delivery bed and then the Dr was saying 'Push' and your Mum was still not fully conscious and then the Dr said 'OK I need forceps' and suddenly your Mum roused herself and said 'I can do this' and she did - with just a little help from the vacuum to get you out the last little bit.

I felt like I was going to burst, I was so excited and then the Dr said 'Oh I made a mistake' and thought he had done something wrong with Mum or you and then he said 'Its a girl' and I laughed - I was so relived that there was nothing really wrong, just that he thought you were a boy. Mum and I cried when we saw you - Mum could hardly hold you as she was still so spaced out from the drugs, and you have some very hearty cries to let us know you were here.

I got to cut your cord and see you weighed while the Dr and nurses looked after your Mum - I got to cuddle you close while your Mum whispered your name to you - luckily she had a girl's name picked out too. I got to give you your first bath while Mum was recovering - they wouldn't let her out of bed in case she fainted.

Words can not express the love I felt for you on this special day - I knew that we would be bonded for eternity - you are my precious chicken and no matter how old you get - I will always love you to the moon and back - and just know that nothing will ever be able to change that.

xxx

2009 The Last Winter Sunday Morning

Grey clouds in the sky, chilly breeze gently blowing, snuggle under the covers for just a little longer, but housework calls - washing needs to be done.

Quick check of FB and Blogger.

Hurry to the laundry with my feet cold on the floor. Slippers where art thou?

Hot cuppa tea back in the study, washing on - hubby says 'how about bacon and eggs for brekkie' oh no - we don't have bread for toast. So off he goes to the bakery to get some.

Heater slowly warming up the room, washing machine calling - time for fabric softener - love that the washing machine is boss!!

Hubby back with the bread, cooking up the bacon now - sizzling in the pan, aroma wafting down the hall - calling my name. Toast pops all crisp and brown. OJ waiting on the table, knives and forks all set.

Blue skies breaking through - washing on the line, more in washing machine churning round and round. Sun is warm upon my back, bending, stretching to reach the pegs and put the washing over my head.

Cat is creeping round the yard, hubby pottering over there - look out there's the cat - hiding right behind the pot - playing games together.

Back inside there's more to do, making beds and cleaning bathroom - a stop to check FB again as I walk down the hall.

Before long the morning will be gone - the last winter Sunday for 2009 - a time to reflect today on the past - 8 years ago today my grand-daughter was hurt in a car crash and it was my father in law's funeral. Winter will be over tomorrow - where has it gone? Time passes so quickly in the blink of an eye. 8 years or just a season - gone before you know it.

Spring is just around the corner.

Childhood Memories Of A Different Kind

I was talking to my youngest daughter last night and she told me she really enjoyed my 'childhood memories' blogs as these were things that maybe I didn't have time to tell my kids when they were younger. Well that got me thinking about the things I remember and enjoyed doing with my kids - so these memories are not from when I was young but when they where (and when I say You, I don't mean just my youngest daughter this is an all encompassing you it covers all 4 of you). They are not all by any means but the ones that popped into my head tonight.

Giving birth to each of you - each so different and yet all so special, how blessed I have been to have been given you as my children.

Opening birthday presents - back when you didn't know what you were getting and especially when you were really young and sometimes the paper and the packaging were more fun than the toy itself.

Christmas mornings - the joy on your faces when you opened your Santa presents - how often did we end up with if not one of you, all of you and Dad with brand new undies on your heads.

Reading stories to you when you were young, changing the tone of my voice and creating character voices so you would come to love books just as much as I do. All of you snuggled around me on the lounge and someones just one of you and going on a special journey just made for two.

Getting down on the floor and playing with you, being at your level and involved with your games on your terms.

The lego houses and farms we all used to build together.

Helping you build cubbies out of blankets and sheets around the big tree in the back yard.

Laughing with you when you told really bad jokes, but they were funny because you thought they were - "and he was still reading the newspaper" - haven't we all laughed again at that joke recently.

Making chocolate crackles - although we didn't do it often and I must admit I probably didn't do anywhere near enough cooking with you as children.

Driving back from Gracetown and singing the "Silly Old Moo" song - boy that song went on for about an hour.

Watching you all perform - how many times did you all put on plays for us.

The newspaper you all put together one day when I was at work and you were at home minding yourselves. How lucky I was that you were all such good kids - although I am sure there are things I don't know about! Still have that newspaper here somewhere.

Watching you grow from infants to toddlers, to children then teenagers and now adults. Each of you so very different and yet so alike - all of you even with your different personalities are there for each other and Dad and I when the going gets tough.

I love you all so much that sometimes my heart hurts. xxx

More Childhood Memories

Going to Yanchep National Park's pub for Sunday sessions with my Grandma Grace, Grandpa Jim and Mum and Dad - back in the days when Perth pubs weren't allowed to open on Sundays, but country pubs could and Yanchep was far enough away from the CBD to count.

Spending a least some time every year staying on Rottnest Island with my Uncle Bert and Auntie Min and Mum and Dad. Even went to the little one room school on the island for 2 weeks when we went mid school term. Stopped going when Mum and Dad split up.

My step dad helping me down from a tree I had climbed - never had children of his own, but a better father for sure - thanks Pop.

Going into town on Friday night's after school to meet my Grandma Win and have fish and chips at the Railton, over the road from her office.

Going to North Perth Primary - a very multi-cultural school in the 60's - I had friends who were Italian, Dutch, Greek, Latvian, English, Scottish and Aboriginal as well as the Aussies ones. Gave me a chance to accept all races just because that's what kids do.

Getting dropped at school in a taxi (Grandma on the way to work would drop us off) - very posh.

Walking home from school on really wet days with no shoes on and jumping in puddles and getting soaked to the skin but loving it.

Mum and us two kids going to the drive-in in her little green car.

When you start to write them down there are more that keep popping into your mind - not a bad thing to try on a blue day.

Am I Adopted? Part 1

In Memory of Gertrude Winifred Ruston (nee Rockliff)

15th April 1897 - 7th January 1985

Photo taken at my wedding in 1977.

Ever had one of those conversations with your Mum? Well I had one in my mid-30s. Let me set the scene. Would have been sometime in the late 80's/early 90's and Mum and I had gone to Bingo (I cringe to admit that now) and at the end of the night before we got into our cars and drove home she said "I need to tell you something".

Now two thoughts popped straight into my head - 1. my Mum had cancer and 2. I'm adopted. On seeing the expression on my face, Mum straight away knew I thought she was ill, so she was quick to tell it me wasn't anything too serious. Phew - then the "what I'm 35 and she has waited till now to tell me I am adopted" thought jumped around even harder in my grey matter.

In the ensuing conversation what she actually told me was that she had been adopted. It was a very strange feeling to think that 35 years of memories were based on an untruth. I won't use the word 'lie' as the reason behind the untruth was one of love. It was because of the love my Mum had for my Grandmother. Grandma for reasons of her own had asked Mum never to tell anyone and so my Mum had honoured her wishes until a couple of years past my Grandma's death.

Now I will tell the rest of the adoption story in other posts, but January 7th 1985 was when my Grandma died and the rest of this post is about her. Maybe I should have named this post Grandma, but the adoption story is relevant to what is to follow.

To me my Grandma was a strong willed intelligent woman who overcame much in her life and went on to help others less fortunate than her. Since her death I have found that she was also extremely complex and wove a story of her life that was not always based on truth, but more by not saying all when telling a story. I think she did this because she felt abandoned by her father and was always trying to live up to his expectations. Interestingly enough she also had high expectations of not only herself but also of those that were her family and I am not sure that we ever lived up to those either. But for all her faults she was my Grandma and I miss her still.

Grandma and I shared a psychic connection that I thought was based on our 'blood' relationship. So I was a little taken aback when I found out that she was my Mum's adopted mother. She also had this psychic relationship with my Mum. Grandma seemed to know when she was needed and would turn up at my parent's house at strange times or would ring to check on things, always when she was indeed needed. The night of my birth was one of these occasions, as was the night of my brother's birth - and I should point out we were both born about 4 weeks early.

When I became pregnant at 17 I couldn't bring myself to tell anyone especially after my boyfriend broke up with me when I told him. I did go and see my Grandma who worked around the corner on a few occasions with the intention of telling her. I often used to pop around for lunch so this was not an out of the ordinary event. But I never got the courage to actually tell her. I was not showing and had no symptoms but she knew and eventually rang my Mum and told her she thought I was pregnant. Could have been a lucky guess but I don't think so.

The last time I saw my Grandma before she died was the night of my brother's wedding when we stopped at RPH to see her on the way to the wedding reception. She was recovering from some major surgery but was on her way to a full recovery - or so everyone thought. That night as we were leaving I stood at the end of her bed to say a last goodnight and she told me she would be leaving me soon, she didn't say it in words and no one else heard her, but I knew. I just looked into her eyes and she looked into mine and that was enough. In my head I heard her loud and clear, she said goodbye. I was so upset at the reception and kept telling my husband that Grandma was going to die but I don't think anyone really believed me. I also convinced myself that I was wrong, but within 48 hours my Grandma had died. I always regret not going to see her one last time but the night before she died was set aside for my brother and his new wife to visit and I didn't want to intrude on their time together.

Grandma's 'estate' so to speak was really only her furniture and my Mum gave me the recliner chair that Grandma used to sit in all the time. On nights when her arthritis made sleeping in bed hard she quite often slept in it as well. We bought the chair home and it had pride of place in our lounge even though it was quite worn and tattered but it was Grandmas. The very first time I sat in that chair I was literally catapulted across the room - my Grandma was sitting there still. I felt her presence as strong as if she had actually been sitting in the chair in real life. It was months before I could sit comfortably in the chair and not feel I was sharing it with her. Every time I went to church, which wasn't often, she was also there with me and I used to cry and hope that no-one was watching.

So blood tie or not, she was and always will be my Grandma and I just wish she had the strength to feel comfortable with me knowing her secrets while she was alive. Grandma I would never have judged you I just would have loved you just like I did and always will.