Well, my dad died the other day after 87 years of life.
Hard Start To Life
Dad had a pretty hard start to life.
His mother was walking to the hospital in the heavy industry section of Melbourne but couldn't wait any longer so squatted in the culvert and gave birth to Dad. A kind lady happened along who helped Dad and Grandma to the hospital.
Fitzroy was heavily polluted in those days. This played havoc with Dad's health and development. Eventually the family moved to Eltham, out in the country.
Alcoholism reigned with associated domestic violence and the breakdown of family relationships in the context of poverty.
Dad seldom spoke about his hardships and suffering. It was mostly in his latter years that he let a little out. In his book, "Hunger on Two Legs," written for his family, Dad tells some of his stories and fills in many gaps for me. Even as a child I somehow knew not to ask too many questions.
Two Greatest Evils
A couple of times in his latter years, when I'd visit and get a bit of history out of him, Dad said to me "The two greatest evils are war and poverty."
Dad was touched by both!
Although the First World War was over before his birth, the aftermath of the horrors of war infiltrated his young life through his dad and the inability to get on with a peace time life.
At age 19, Dad was called up for service in the Second World War. After 20 months he was discharged as medically unfit due to malnutrition.
The period between the wars was marked by the Great Depression, condemning many to unemployment and poverty with the associated deprivations.
Found Jesus
In his late teens, Dad found Jesus.
In knowing Jesus, Dad found reason to continue living which had previously escaped him. His friendship with Jesus mapped ourt many of his life's decisions.
About this time, Dad also found Mum.
Hands On Worker
My earliest recollection of Dad's working life is when he worked at Stubly Motors, later to become Greensborough Motors.
Dad was a grease monkey, that is, he serviced cars and served the petrol.
These days we'd call it the Service Department but when Dad worked in that field there was a big sign over his workspace that announced, Lubritorium.
Dad had a 1926 Chev. It was a 26 Chev alright: built in 1926 and would do 26 miles an hour before the big-ends started knocking.
Dad's 26 Chev had been a tourer: a canvas topped passenger car. But dad had cut the top down and built it into a panel van. You could get away with those sort of things in those days. It had a wooden tailboard with canvas top and sides and rear canvas flap.
Dad and Mum took this old car to Adelaide to visit Auntie Joyce and Uncle Jack. I was one year old and learned to walk in Adelaide.
The road followed the train line for some distance and there happened to be a goods train traveling at about the same speed. Sometimes the goods train would get in front a bit and then the lead would be reversed. Whenever they drew along side, the train driver would sound his train whistle.
Dad also had a Morris 8. I suppose this was the forerunner of the Morris Minor.
Dad bought it brand new as a cab-chassis and built a panel van body onto it.
I was three when Rosie was born. Dad was still building the Morris' body.
Dad walked to a neighbor's to phone for a taxi. The taxi didn't come and didn't come, and it was the middle of the night.
In desperation, Dad got Mum in the passenger seat of the Morris. He may have had the rear floor built but the panel van body was missing and the rear of the cab was completely open. Mum held onto me for dear life and we got to the hospital in time.
Dad built things to last. He made concrete blocks, all mixed by hand, and used them as footings for extensions to the two room, unlined hut that was home.
He also built chook pens using his blocks, running a small poultry farm for some time.
Well, if you can imagine the Main Lower Plenty Road running along the valley and steep hills on either side. Boulton street, a steep, dirt road, crossed the main road at right angles.
Dad harnessed up Robbie the horse and went to the river for a load of sand. Boltin' street, alright! Robbie decided he wasn't going to stand against the weight of the cart and let her rip.
Dad had his foot hard on the brake pedal whilst trying to control Robbie with the reins. Somehow Robbie managed to keep his hooves and legs under him and they regained control on the nearly flat area before the main road.
I reckon Dad would have thrown a bit less sand on, next time.
About a year before he died, Dad gave me some of his carpenter's hand tools and I got a few more at the time of the funeral service.
It's not that I got some free tools, it's that I got some of Dad's tools. Tools that he used with his own hands. Tools that he used to build our first house and our furniture.
Dad built the solid, hardwood, living room table where we ate our meals. He built the mantle piece over the open fire place where he read me many an adventure story on a winter's night. He built the high chair that I sat in for my meals.
And I have the hand plane that he used to smooth the rough sawn timber. When I hold this plane in my hand and finish off a rough piece of timber, I feel a sense of affinity with my Dad.
The Year 1948
In the year 1948 there were three very important developments, each of which has stood the test of time.
There was the birth of the Holden car. Australia's own car, built right for Australian conditions.
Being a General Motors dealer, Stubly Motors was allocated one car to sell the first year and three the second.
The first Holden came out without a model number. The following model was the FJ so the original Holden became known as the FX.
The year 1948 also saw the birth of the Ferguson TEA20 tractor with it's revolutionary hydraulic, three point linkage. Three of these little tractors featured in one of the expeditions to the South Pole.
But the greatest event of all occurred on the first of January 1948. Ron and Evelyn McArthur had a bouncing baby boy. "We'll call him Laurence," they said, which was shortened to Laurie. That's me!
I was borne at 11.45pm on 1 January 1948. The sister reckoned it was a quarter past twelve, not a quarter to twelve. Dad registered me as being born on the first.
Eighteen years later when I got my driver's license, the government had me down as being born on the second of January and they had my name spelled wrongly as Lawrence, not Laurence. Well, you can't fight the government when you're 18 so I went along with it, except that I retained the correct spelling of Laurie.
But Mum always stuck to the first as my birthday. "I was there and I know," she'd say.
Achievements
In his 87 years, Dad achieved much. There are two achievements that stand out:
Along with his friend, John Buckton, Dad built a Sunday School hall. The task dragged on over several years, Dad turning up regularly for the Saturday afternoon working bee.
Dad would get home from work at the service station and have lunch, then load his tool box into the Morris 8 and go to the hall. I'd usually go with him and sometimes Mum and Rosie would also.
Dad believed in Sunday School. Both he and his sister Phyllis, as children, had been touched by the good people who ran a Sunday School in a big tent on a vacant block of land and later in an old fruit packing shed.
Dad became disillusioned with Greensborough Motors so he bought a rundown business, working diligently to build it into an enterprise that would give financial security. Dad was never wealthy but he was comfortable, providing well for his family.
Grandma
Dad looked out for his mum. I remember the many occasions when Dad and I would go to Grandma's place. The house was built on a hillside so the back corner had plenty of room underneath for the firewood. Dad would get the wood out and split it. When there was enough for the week, I'd help stack it back under the house. Then we'd go in for a cuppa.
In later years, Dad looked out for his sister, Phyllis, in the same caring and practical ways.
Yackandandah
Dad, with his second wife, Annette, had been in York, near Perth, for about a year.
Lesley and I were on a trip, staying at the Yackandandah Caravan Park, about half an hour south of Albury in north east Victoria, when Dad died. It was four in the morning over in the west but seven o'clock in the east. Lesley and I were sitting in our canvas chairs, under the willow tree, beside our little caravan, having a cuppa when the phone call came from Annette.
The previous afternoon I'd shown Lesley around Yackandandah and the district and I was reliving the many happy times I'd spent at Yackandandah with the family on our family holidays as a young teen. Rosie would have been about 11 to 14 and Jeannie and Joy were toddlers.
Yackandandah has a pristine creek running through town, coming out of the mountains and emptying eventually into the Hume Weir. The caravan park is on the creek.
The Yackandandah Creek has trout so Dad and I used to walk miles along the creek, fishing. We'd dig worms and catch grasshoppers. We learned to fish with very light line and float the grasshoppers. The trout would rise to the bait and the excitement was on!
Back at the tent, Mum would cook the trout on the two burner, kerosene, Primus stove, in her big, black frying pan. Ooh, it was good tucker!
There's a small hut in the Yackandandah caravan Park. Now it's the camp kitchen, but 46 years ago it was the camp wash house. The hut contained two concrete wash troughs and a copper.
There was firewood provided and an axe.
Dad pointed out to me the sign that said "Please Don't Chop Wood On This Floor." Some bright spark had used charcoal from the fire to add to the sign "As It Bluntens The Axe."
Well, the floor has been cleaned up and finished with clear sealer, but the axe chips in the floor are still clearly visible.
I did have in mind to cross the creek at the bottom of the caravan park, after breakfast, and go for a walk where Dad and I used to go trout fishing, but alas, we had to pack up and get home in preparation for the flight to Perth.
Cobram
In later years we had our family holidays on the banks of the Murray River at Cobram, also in north east Victoria.
These were great times, too. I had a car and my sisters were growing up. Dad and I went halves in a little boat in which we'd go fishing for redfin. Never caught a cod!
Family
One of the enduring memories I have of Dad is his delight at holding his twin great grandsons, Zak and Brock, my grandsons, when we all visited not so long before Dad's passing. He certainly delighted in his children.
Peacemaker
Dad was a peacemaker. Jesus said "Blessed are the peacemakers."
Peace at any price? I wouldn't say so.
Peace at the price of his own wants and needs? Yes, that's Dad.
Did Dad err toward peace? Maybe. Maybe he overcompensated for the lack of peace in his youth. But to my mind, Dad kept well away from the turmoil that he'd been saved from when he came to Jesus. At the end of the day, to err toward peace wouldn't be such a bad thing, huh! Wish I was a bit more like Dad!
Descendants
Dad and Mum lost their first baby, Eric, and then reared the four of us: Laurie, Rosie, Jean and Joy.
Dad left 10 grandchildren with 10 great grandchildren and counting.