MY MOTHER'S BIRTHDAY - 28th May, 1905 : 106 YEARS AGO

Baby Elsie Georgina Beckmann looks out on the world.

 This little baby, the first Australian born Beckmann, was to grow up through World War I in which she would be reviled by fellow schoolchildren as "a German ",and into the jazz age 1920's .

In 1927 Miss Elsie Georgina Beckmann
had this Portrait taken as a gift for her
Husband- to- be Jack Dixon.

Soon after her marriage to Jack Dixon and the birth of the first child Patrick, they were overwhelmed by the Great Depression, throughout which Elsie was able to get work in Vicars Woollen Mills at North Parramatta, whilst Jack could not obtain work.

He did obtain work in the construction of the huge Captain Cook Graving Dock at Garden Island Sydney in the run up to World War II and, in 1940 they had their second child Anthony , born on the day Hitler's Nazis invaded Norway.

She had a hard life , always selflessly and frugally lived, setting others first, always a peacemaker and sadly abused for it on occasions. Illness plagued her, and inappropriate medical attention for some years increased the distress of it.The last years of her life were less stressed perhaps, and she had the joy of seeing her first grandchild born, Marianne Elizabeth. But the years had taken their toll, and at age 66 she suffered a fatal heart attack.

She lives on in Heaven I am sure , and lives  in my heart in great love and gratitude forever.


.TONY DIXON

MORE THAN YOU HAVE A RIGHT TO KNOW

"What?...Dead you say?"Some things are even more distressing as one is about to enter the War Cabinet Rooms! 

Here is my very favourite internet item of all time. If you can't get a laugh out of it....."Get a life!"

http://ottodafe.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.htm

A quirky sense of humour helps!

*1946 - SCHOOL DAYS BEGIN - ST.PETER CHANEL'S CONVENT SCHOOL BERALA N.S.W.

First Holy Communion Class 1947 - Yours Truly second from left front row
Brien Dryden on my left, Billy Cowan on my right, Cyril Spencer on his right
The great Father Con Donovan at the Centre - God Bless him.

After the short Bus trip,Mum dropped me off at the School and was quickly relieved of her parental responsibilities by a confident little bloke whose name was Cyril Spencer. He came up pleasantly and respectfully, and having sagely assessed the situation, said: "Don't worry lady, I'll look after him!" "Bye Mum!"and I was off into the new world
.
I had not gone to Kindergarten, and so commenced my Primary Schooling in First Class.This was something of a minor disadvantage, because I found that very many of the boys knew one another, whereas the only boy I knew was my best friend Brien Dryden who lived across the street.

The Church/School I have described earlier. It stood at the Western end of the large Parish site that had been accumulated running from the top of the hill on Kingsland Road in the East down to Regent Street(which led directly into Regents Park - all of these Royal word associations were entirely lost on me) Our Irish Parish Priest Father Con Donovan regularly reminded us of the great Archbishop of Brisbane James Duhig, an Irishman of course, who had built most of his churches on hilltop sites around Brisbane, that fabled city in exotic Queensland.So Father Donovan had also chosen a hilltop location for our future church.

This first morning at School was bewildering with hundreds of children ,boys and girls, swirling around and eagerly chattering. Then games started forming up and another boy, Brian Edwards from a more senior class,who appeared to be regarded as rather worldly wise, took me under his wing and we ended up joining a game called "Cocky Lorum"( I have been unable to find any Web references to it.) . It involved forming into two large groups of about thirty each, facing one another at a distance of about 25 metres, then someone would yell "Cocky Lorum"' and each group would charge toward and through the other. There was no ball involved as far as I can remember, and my opinion then was that it all seemed rather pointless.I am not sure if anyone got "out" or otherwise penalised - utterly pointless. If anyone could ever enlighten me about some detail I had missed, I would be very grateful.

I think it was on that first day some boy whose face or name I can't remember started some petty bit of bullying which was promptly terminated when Billy Cowan a stocky pleasant faced little bloke with curly hair intervened and warned the bully off. Amazing the things we remember.

We were in Sister Alan's Class. The School was staffed entirely by the Sisters of Saint Joseph founded by the recently canonised Saint Mary of the Cross MacKillop. Saint Mary would have been proud of them. The Principal ( we always said Head Nun) was Sister Austin ( which you will probably know is a contracted form of Augustine) who was Irish and always very kind to me over the years, I loved her lilting voice and the way she used to call me "Ant'ny".Sister Alan was really good with us littlies, kind and motherly, whilst steering us through the very basics and getting us used to Class discipline.Rewards for good performance consisted of Rubber Stamp impressions on one's exercise book, whether varying animals or, if your achievement was exceptional, the Map of Australia about 7inches by three inches with ink from a violet pad! ( I never got it ! Scarred for life? No.)

It was in Primary School that I noticed my strong interest in stationery. I have since then always been attracted by the rich texture and subtle colours of paper stocks as well as by all the paraphernalia of pen and ink, Fountain Pens ( no one ever tells you that their ink bladders wear out), Propelling Pencils, Biros - not to mention the humble lead pencil and its sharpener.

School Fees in First Class were Sixpence a Week ( 5 Cents), which Sister marked off in a special record book. A Year or so later Class fees went to one shilling ( 10cents) a week.

Discipline was mild in First Class with Boys sometimes being sent outside the Class for 5/10 minutes.In Third and Fourth Class there was talk of "the Strap"but I don't recall ever seeing it used.

As I moved through Primary School , I came to love the first days of each New Year for the experience of getting new Textbooks, often published by BROOKS BROTHERS (I think it was) Their emblem was a Shield with books & other schoolish  things on its four quartered front. I particularly remember in Second or Third Class a History Book, and as I quickly explored "it, my eye was caught by a painting of the First Fleet coming through the Sydney Heads. The ships were PURPLE! Enough to turn one off the British for keeps!

We always brought our lunch, Brien Dryden and I and with all the other children ate it sitting in , or around the "Shed", a fairly primitive sun shade in the middle of the Parish land. We often swapped lunches just for a change - I always ended up worse off. Apart from the Church/School, the only other buildings on the site were, up on Kingsland Road, the Convent -  an 1880s solid brick building with a colonial style front verandah, and the old wooden Parish Hall ( the former Church School) .It had long ago been moved up the Hill from Fourth Avenue where it had sat on land over the back fence from Grandma Dixon's house at 34 Third Avenue, Berala, as I mentioned earlier.



There were two ways home - the long way down Kingsland Road, right into Walters Road down the hill until the left hand turn into Second avenue and home. However, the SHORT way led across the street from the Convent and diagonally across vacant land resumed by the State Government for a State School that was never to be built, and then quickly onto Walters Road and down the hill etc. There was from time to time, a problem with a sharp faced runty  English bully a nasty piece of work we thought - though he just menaced, but never did anything. Often we took the "risk", but after a while we gave it away and found great advantages in visiting Ma Brearley's shop on Kingsland Road, to buy lollies, the occasional Sherbert (sucked from its paper package by means of a licorice straw. Favourite lollies were Musk Sticks - sickly- and grey Pastille sticks - aniseed flavour. But on hot days Ma B. was tops with her own "home made" ICE BLOCKS about 7 inches long and square in section, eaten from their long white paper bags. Life can be great!

Children's crazes for collecting cards were very strong before the War, and I had seen plenty of examples.Now they are back in fashion. But in those days I can't recall any. However we had great fun collecting Cigarette Packets which were carefully folded in on themselves to show the front off to advantage. Very many people smoked then - far more than now it seems, and there were few restrictions on smoking , except on trains which had certain designated Non-Smoking carriages.The Cigarette Packets were great pieces of Commercial design. My prized possessions were Players with a Naval theme, Garrick I think it was, which were bright green - actually, I thought they all looked pretty good. The craze never inclined me to smoking which I always thought was a disgusting habit .

I really did enjoy my time at the Convent School where I went through to the end of Fourth Class in 1949.

It was there in 1947 that I made my First Holy Communion with the rest of the Class. We were carefully and prayerfully prepared by the Sisters who were truly Faith - filled women. Then we were examined by Father Con Donovan and, having proved ourselves, made our First Confessions and a few days later, our First Holy Communion. There followed a Breakfast in the old Parish Hall catered by the Parish ladies , which for some reason brings to my mind brilliant red jelly!

Well, it was not the Breakfast, no. But from that day Our Lord had won my heart and mind and soul totally, and at 71 that dedication has never wavered. Sure, I have let Him down from time to time, but He has never let me down .He is always the first to offer His Hand. And I always know He is the Way and in the Catholic Church and in Holy Communion, I am one with Him. Way to go!( As our American cousins would say!)

Last detail - I almost forgot- our uniform was Navy Blue Shorts, White Shirt and a Black Boucle Tie with pairs of Gold Stripes horizontally across it. I could rabbit on about the other boys and their characteristics and nicknames for a bit, but is it fair to name "x" who was called ""taps"because he would burst into tears regularly and at the slightest provocation - I think not.

Next, I was to follow in my brother's footsteps and go to Marist Brothers'School Lidcombe. That would be in  1950 and I would be 10 years old.

*1954 MY BROTHER UPGRADES - VESTIGIAL CHROMED FLUTES

1954 VAUXHALL SEDAN - THERE WAS A SECOND OPTION WITH A SILLY LOOKING ABBREVIATED BOOT

In 1954 my older brother Pat bit the bullet and bought a brand new car. A Vauxhall of course, maintaining the link with his earler Tourer. He chose an Olive Green Vauxhall Wyvern which was the 4 Cylinder version of the car . I have very pleasant memories of the car. Which seemed to me at age 14 to be very pleasant and neat and quiet in operation.

It was an interesting offering from General Motors'U.K. operation. If you follow the design outline, it was a shrunken version of the Chevrolet "Fleetmaster"of 1948.

The shrinking process had its costs. It made the car look slightly "Dinky", especiially when there were still plenty of Chev. Fleetmasters on the street, since U.S. Dollar imports had been eased under the Liberal Government elected in 1949. The Vauxhall also looked small when compared to G.M.'s new Australian Car the Holden which had commenced production in 1948. It was yet another shrunken version of the Chev Fleetmaster - but not reduced as far as the Vauxhall.

 Even though it featured still a divided windscreen, the Holden result was far happier in appearance than the Vauxhall which  by comparison looked relatively feeble . My brother had I think, been led astray from sensible choice by brand loyalty!

The saddest aspect of the Vauxhall design was the reduction of the traditional and iconic Chromed Flutes on the edge of the bonnet, to mere vestigial traces - the times were a'changin 'even then!

How different the world of automotive manufacturing is to-day! So many of the Brands of those days are gone, the companies that made them are gone and car designs have become truly international with only modest tweaking for vastly different markets.The high cost of developing and manufacturing a new model is nw so high that economies of scale have had to be achieved even at the cost of mergers and acquisitions and co-operative deals that in the past would have been unthinkable are now routine. In recent years Ford has owned Jaguar, SAAB and VOLVO. VW has owned AUDI etc etc.

My brother's auto adventures continued so stay tuned. Then there have been my own....be prepared!

*1940's FEEDING THE FAMILY

22 SECOND AVENUE BERALA N.S.W.

Okay! Okay! So you're very clever and you've already latched on to the discrepancy !! 1940s in the heading but the TV Antenna shows the picture is after 1956 -first transmission of TV in Sydney and after about 1959 in ourcase, when we first got a PYE tv set. Oh! And you've noticed the oval Stop light lens and fins on the Vauxhall Cresta I bought second hand (1963 Model) in about 1967 (?) Go to the top of the Class and please sit quietly while I get on with the story.

In those War time 1940's when I was a little bloke and had blond hair ( why does our hair keep changing colour? Blond, Brown, Grey - oh well!) there wasn't a lot of money around but enough to feed us fairly well.

Things were delivered to the door, the Milkman with his Horse (! True!) and Cart came plodding by very early in the morning taking the Billy Can from the Front Verandah filling it from the Tap on the back of the Cart pressing the lid home and returning the full can to the Verandah. If we wanted cream, a note was left with the Billy and the "Milko"would leave a litle tubby jar with a waxed cardboard sealing lid.Once a week we would leave out the Milk money ,in cash of course, with that day's Billy. Exciting Huh?

Later each morning the Baker ( the word being suitably short did not need a familiar abbreviation) would drift along the street in his little red Ford Van (English Ford of course Vintage about 1934) and there was variety yes indeed there was! You could have white bread or nothing, and you could choose a Square Loaf or a Round Loaf (Now called High Top) . Boy! How I loved the smell of that hot fresh bread ( the bakery was only a block away and Brand Name bread was unknown.In the early 1950's we really got with it and the Baker announced that he would be introducing Vienna Milk Loaf to his product range.My favourites were the convex first slices of the newly broken Square or Round loaves - that was living! Especially with Cheese ( which only ever came into our house in the pale blue KRAFT box which in latter years we would never deign to buy- muttering insulting words like "soap!"

Less often, perhaps twice a week, the ""Ice Man "came to refill the Ice Box . It resembled a small wooden ( if your imagination is that good) refrigerator with a smaller top box for the block of ice and a larger section underneath it for the food to be chilled - not a great deal of room - for milk, meat .butter etc.The whole thing was only about 4 feet high.And never forget to keep the drip tray at the bottom emptied - or it would overflow onto the lino/Feltex/brand new wall to wall carpet. Then, in the dawning of a new age, we obtained a Hallstrom "Silent Knight"gas refrigerator. which stood on four legs and caused a frenzy of home ice cream making for a year or so.

Ah! I nearly forgot the ""Rabbitoh!"No, not a man from South Sydney but a usually scruffy looking man with a horse and cart who, at very irregular intervals would go about calling out "Rabbitoh!"to announce his presence. We would occasionally buy one - rabbit that is  , but his irregularity meant it was hard to fit him into meal planning and, in ice box days anyway, hard to keep things fresh. Finally, the Government's use of the Myxamatosis(?)Poison in , I think 1948,  to kill off rabbits in plague proportions , also killed off people's interest in the product. ( Though I notice Masterchef is doing its darnedest to bring it back to life!)

Not everything came to the door. We had to walk one block away to Fitton's grocery shop, and to the adjoining Butcher Shop.For  a time there was also a Greengrocer but that didn't last . Visits to the Fitton's took place every few days since what we bought had to be carryable in either a string bag or a shopping basket.. From about 7 or 8yrs. I was trustable with the simpler purchases, but still would dissolve in confusion if Mr. Fitton questioned something on Mum's list.Meat purchasing was Mum's exclusive province. For Greengroceries we had to go to Lidcombe , the Berala Station shops had a greengrocer, but we didn't seem to favour them.Through the War years, and until the Labour Government was voted out in 1949, we had the added complication of Ration Cards - introduced during the War emergency. But the Socialists just could not kick the habit, always believing that they knew better, and now was not the time to kick the habit. They had 23yrs in Opposition to re-adjust their thinking!

There were three other services to the door of our home (four actually but I refuse to discuss sewage)
There was the occasional man with horse and cart calling out :"Props!.". These were long, stripped- clear thin
 tree trunks with a fork in the end. They were used to push out and up,clothes lines stretched across the backyards of homes , ensuring that the lines laden with wet clothes did not droop to the ground. The other two services were financial. The first was the Insurance contribution collector who came weekly and acknowledged receipt of the amount on a pocket sized card. The last service to the door also featured a card
to record payments , but I 'm hanged if I can remember exactly what the name of the business was , but I have a thought that it was a finance arrangement, with an organisation based at Auburn whereby one could make advance payments and could then present the card to make purchases at several stores in Auburn. I wish I could remember that name, but the brain waves flash up  then fail when about to deliver the info.It was an interesting operation in the days before Credit and Debit Cards - an example of the struggle to gain a measure of "credit" facility in shopping.

So, there you have it1 Pre supermarket , and pre Shopping Mall shopping in the then Western suburbs of Sydney.

The number of these" to- the- door" activities ( except Milk and Bread) seem to me, likely to have had their origins in the desperate times of the Great Depression - not long before, and never ended until World War II got well underway.

How lucky we are now!

A GODDESS - THIS MORNING I SAW A GODDESS!

CITROEN GODDESS ALIAS DS 21 INTRODUCED 56 YEARS AGO

What a way to make my Saturday morning! I saw a Goddess!

She was "sitting down", that is to say, her suspension ( was it called.."hydrolastic," I think ?  NO, NO that was British Motor Corporation much later - it was "Hydropneumatic!!!)) was turned off so that the body appears to sit down almost to the ground. But, never mind her posture, she was still beautiful even after 56 years!

There never was a production car to match them for elegance and style. They represent the extreme example of the French combination of bold but complex engineering and the ultimate chic in design. Their introduction to the world market in 1955 created a huge sensation. When other designers whether in England, Germany, Italy or America, were struggling to digest the effects of the abandonment of mudguards, running boards,separate headlights and separate engine compartments and bold assertive radiator grills, Citroen literally bounded so far ahead as to almost leap out of the "ballpark"as the Americans would say. The Goddess was, and still is, something quite other.

To put the cherry on the cake, Citroen gave her this marvellous "hydropneumatic suspension". It was adjustable so that you could set it on "high" for rough country roads, or "normal" for City driving, and it constantly sought to keep the cabin level, thus evening out rough patches of road.

Now, "Goddess" or no, everything was not Paradise. When you pulled up on a hill and used the hand-brake when starting, the rear of the car would tend to "stand up" this takes a bit of getting used to. Also, when reversing, the swallow-tailed rear which necessitated a much narrower rear track than the front, created a tendency for the driver looking backwards out the window or relying on the rear vision mirror, to steer off to one side. Habit from "normal" cars builds into our senses the idea that we are reversing a rectangular vehicle - when that instinct is put with a vehicle tending towards triangular - you have trouble.

Anyway, whilst the motoring world and its clientele  - all of us - had our breath taken away by the Goddess, the rest of the designing world, lacking the talent to follow or improve, simply ignored the new beauty on the block. They sought to distract attention with cars that seemed to look the same front and rear, with cars that featured absurd fins and other ornaments. Only lately - say the last ten years - have they been forced into a new direction by wind tunnel tests and the need for greater economy. More and more cars are beginning to look alike.  While the Goddess just IS - in ageless beauty.

Patrick Jane in "The Mentalist" drives one - and he's always right!

IT WAS A TUESDAY, WASN'T IT BILLY?

ARMENTIERES - THE BATTLEFIELD _ GERMAN BUNDESARCHIV PHOTOGRAPH

IT WAS A TUESDAY, WASN’T IT BILLY?

- TUESDAY, 14TH MAY, 1918

Private James William“BILLY”Wilson   Service No. 5659

17TH Battalion, Australian Imperial Force

KILLED IN ACTION Near / Armentieres FRANCE In the course of repelling the German Forces, whose attempt to reach the Sea had already failed.

Did you know it was Tuesday, or in that Hell around Armentieres, blasted to Kingdom Come for miles and miles, did you really care what day it was?

THE ICONIC AUSTRALIAN SLOUCH HAT

They didn’t tell your Mum how you died, blown to pieces by a German shell blast .But your Superior Officer took the trouble to tell my Grandma and Grandad – your Sister Louisa (“doll’s eyes” you called her) and her husband Ted .Louisa was distraught at losing her only brother she loved so much. In due course, the Army provided your Mother with a Certificate of Burial for which Ted made an ornate carved wooden frame with all the flags of the Allies around its edges. (I guess he inherited that skill from his Grandfather Carl Dopmeyer whose sculpture and wood carving gained him fame in Germany in the second half of the 1800’s.

We don’t seem to have a photo of you Billy, which is strange for your time. But we know a little about you:

You enlisted on 16th November, 1915. You were said to be 27 years old and 3 months, of dark complexion weighing 119 lbs. and 5 Feet 3 ½ “in height. So you were a little bloke by Aussie standards but true to your English born parents’ physique. You had no distinguishing marks on your body. You were a Laborer.

But what’s this? You were Discharged just over a month later on 22nd December, 1915. Because you had insufficient teeth to masticate!

17th Battalion A.I.F. (AUSTRALIAN  IMPERIAL FORCE) COLOUR PATCH

But you can’t keep a good bloke down, and on 24th February, 1916 you enlist again! By now you have a “Fresh” complexion, Brown eyes, Brown Hair, your height is the same but at 27 years and 6 months you weigh in at 116lbs And you have acquired a scar at your Right eye, on your Right thigh and inside your Right knee. Did this happen during your initial enlistment? An accident? All the injury was on your right side and the inclusion of a scar behind your right knee doesn’t sound like a fight!

Whatever the case, the lack of teeth , (stated to have occurred over the 10 preceding years due to cavities)– perhaps you had obtained dentures (?)- did not stop you being accepted again.

You appear to have been buried initially at Fouilloy and later exhumed and re-interred at the great Australian War Cemetery at Villers- Bretonneux."

The sun shining down on these green fields of France
The warm wind blows gently and the red poppies dance
The trenches have vanished long under the plow
No gas, no barbed wire, no guns firing now
But here in this graveyard that's still no mans land
The countless white crosses in mute witness stand
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man
And a whole generation were butchered and damned

Did they beat the drums slowly
Did they play the fife lowly
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down
Did the band play the last post and chorus
Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest

(The Green Fields of France - Eric Bogle)

The Australian War Memorial at Villers Bretonneux

On 4 th February, 1919 your Mother received from the Army your personal effects – you know how pitifully few and pathetic they were. You had made your Mother your Next of Kin because your Father had died previously.

 

CONCLUSION

I’m sorry Billy, that I haven’t yet got more information about you and the War you fought, but I am on the job and will set the record straight as best I can.

You and your comrades, who already went through Hell on earth in France, are in my daily prayers for the repose of your Souls. And we who live our lives to-day are forever grateful to you.

 

 

 

 

1992 JOHN JOSEPH DIXON DIED ON THIS DAY

Dad in the 1970s

Born on the 8th June, 1907, John Joseph Dixon died on this day 11th May, in 1992 a few weeks short of his 85th Birthday. He had a life of hard work which started at age 11yrs when he was placed in a job at Newland's Iron Foundry near Central Station in Sydney.The Foundry produced , among other things, iron baby cots. We had one of these cots at home it was used by my brother Pat as a baby and later by me - it was grey painted (!) and the drop side was quite heavy. At the Foundry, Dad's left eye was hurt by spraying hot metal and he had impaired sight in that eye until he lost the eye to Glaucoma in 1957 and had a glass eye fitted.

Dad and I all scrubbed up to go out.

Like all working class families of the day, we had a strong sense of dressing up to go out. We would not be seen "out " in our everyday clothes - how different things are to-day when so many go out of their way to dress down.

With Mum and Dad in the backyard Summer of 1946/7 - the Depression  and War years  had left their mark on my parents.

As the years went by, money became more plentiful and Mum and Dad could afford to be house proud, and in fact home owners.The yard was cleared of weeds and blackberries, Dad put in concrete paths back and front, re-built the front fence, re-painted the house inside and out, replaced the linoleum floor coverings, firstly with FELTEX then with Wall to wall carpeting.He turned the Laundry into a separate Kitchen with fitted cupboards and opened it to the Dining Room by taking out a wall.And he built a new Laundry at the rear of the new Kitchen. He also opened the wall between the Lounge Room and the Dining Room so that we had a modern Lounge/Dining Room. Later he enclosed the rear Verandah to create a Third Bedroom. He was" Jack"  of all trades.

Late in her life, Mum was taken up to Pott's Hill Pumping Station by my Brother Pat in one of his series of cars. Mum was horrified to see the conditions in which Dad worked as an Engine Room Attendant at this Coal-fired, Steam -Powered Water Pumping Station with its very old reciprocating steam engines driving the the water pumps and constant high levels of noise and heat.

Pre-Depression Ca. 1927 a confident Young Man yet still that almost quizzical look.

Dad had a tough upbringing. He had a good and loving Mother but a hard drinking and irascible Father who , when displeased, had on at least one occasion hung him up by his collar onto a horse harness hook and beaten him with a leather strap.His Father later left the Family home and in my childhood he was rarely seen - and then unpleasant. 

 ,

About 1911 in a Sailor Suit and giving the world a sceptical look.

As a little boy at school Dad must have been a bit of a handful, because he used to recount stories of being obliged to kneel with his hands out to be caned.Efforts to teach him the Piano were brought to a halt when the Nun feared damage to the keyboard from his pounding. He thought in his early School years that his full name was "Jack John Joseph Dixon"not realising that "Jack "is a nickname for "John"! Strangely enough, his childlike ignorance of near 100 years ago has become commonplace among parents of boys now who actually name their boys "Jack "as all awareness of Patron Saints is slowly extinguished among the largely post-Christian society.

So dear Dad, we pray Requiescat in Pace, as we remember you on the Anniversary of your Death 19 years ago. You may be surprised to know that you were probably the first Dixon in history to be prayed for by three Bishops in the celebration of their Masses! Thank you for being a stalwart provider and careful guardian of your family.

SURROUNDED BY MOTHERS - WHAT A JOY! - A REFLECTION A BOUQUET OF MOTHERS

My Dad's Mum - Eleanor Margaret "Mag"Dixon - taken 1911

My dear wife Robyn,with our  three children : Marianne, Justine and Matthew at Mount Wilson - Autumn  1980 (?)

My dear Mum Elsie Georgina Beckmann (R) and her Mum Louisa Beckmann (Standing) with Grandad Edward Beckmann and sisters Charlotte (L) and Ernestine "Kate" (centre) in 1910 - 1911

Our daughter Justine with 2 mths premature son Daniel (born 1st June, 2009) now a charmer & picture of robust  good health



Here I am surrounded by a pictorial  bouquet of Mothers !( I think "bouquet"is a suitable collective noun for a group of Mothers!) Each one of them I have had the privilege and joy to share my life with, and each one has been a remarkable example of love and kindness in action, even in the gravest difficulty. The pictures are in no particular order. Obviously the first Mother I knew was my very own dear Mum,who led a life of self- sacrifice , love and loyalty in the most adverse circumstances.Her love was generous and kind, never in the least demanding. She was the ideal example of her Father's philosophy that love and respect go hand in hand :: if you have not got love you will show no respect, if you show no respect, you have no love.Grandad hit the nail on the head, and my dear Mum had absorbed the lesson and lived it out.


 Next I got to know my Grandma Dixon who lived on the next block one street behind us. Hers was also a tough life coping with a difficult husband and who gave herself to helping many human strays in the family orbit. She was very loving in her treatment of me and in early primary school days I used to walk home via Grandma's place, where she would always be seated on the verandah - waiting for me with a One Shilling piece( with its Merino Sheep Head image on it) clutched in her hand which she gave to me for treats. I can still recall its warmth from her hand, to-day


My Mum's Mother, Grandma Beckmann, was a very special lady too. She was more self - confident and outgoing within the family group than my Mum or Grandma Dixon and her love was open-hearted and generous, her hugs big and strong. She was totally devoted to her husband "Ted"Edward Beckmann and in the family circle she would refer to him as "Daddy"( they had 9 children!). When I knew him his health was failing, and though she would firmly proclaim that "Daddy and I are going to live on into the (Biblical) Millenium ", looking back I can see her anxiety that he was slipping away. She was a wonderful example of love and affection and that ,constant and reliable.She had had a tough life with never a lot of money around , and when some windfall occurred an adverse development would sweep it away. She suffered a lot for marrying a  "German"especially in World War  as did the older girls, reproached for being "Germans".I recall her unconditional love of me ,and those strong, generous hugs to-day.


Then we come to the full colour Mums. My dear wife Robyn and those three beautiful children, what fun we had that day in the bracing air and rich autumn tones of Mount Wilson! What fun we have had over all the years - and how much of that is due to Robyn , loving loyal, devoted wife and Mother. I guess we have had more good times than all the predecessor Mothers and their families combined and yet we have had a ton of tough times, but Robyn has been a constant source of love and loyalty through thick and thin, and even thinner!


The latest Mother in the family blood line is our dear daughter Justine, Mother to Emily, Christopher and Daniel. Words nearly fail me ( nearly! I always have a few left!) As parents we could not be prouder of this thoroughly modern Mother. She is an exemplary model of love and devotion in effective action , handling even the strain of tiny Daniel's birth when this tiny literal handful of life seemed to us too fragile , she brought him to the fullness of healthy life with dedication and love, without skipping a beat in the care of Emily and Christopher and husband Paul.And like her paternal Grandmother she is a stalwart strength for her parents.


So Mothers of mine, I salute you and honour you , but most of all, I love you unfailingly.

"THE BEAUTIFUL ONE IS COME" - AND HOW!

My Wife took this shot of me and Nefertiti in Berlin on 3rd September, .2009

Well, I have been a little slack on posting in the last couple of days. There has been a bit of long-overdue cleaning-up in Toowoomba which needed covering over at "Vexilla Regis" and the I PAD 2 arrived 2 days early! So what has that got to do with Nefertiti you ask?

As you know the operating systems of various electronic devices require you to name the device.Now when the I PAD 2 was finally ripped from its packaging my first thought was : "It is BEAUTIFUL!"( Mustn't gush - you will think this is a paid commercial - if only!) . So instantly the old Egyptological enthusiast in me said :"Nefertiti"! which means "The beautiful one is come." There, I had its name!

It not only looks beautiful, it works beautifully too!It starts up and shuts down instantly. Its on screen keyboard is a dream to use - so intuitive and fast, especially for a ""hunt and peck"user like me. The ease of downloading pictures from my camera is amazing - simply plug-in and in 45 seconds it was all done , not a problem! And they look grand on that beautiful screen. I could rave on and on, but let me finish by saying that it makes browsing my favourite Blogs and Website as well as Facebook a much more pleasant experience in ease of use and more visually attractive. Did you guess? I'm hooked!

The whole Amarna Period of Egyptian history is fascinating. Pharaoh Akhenaten and his wife left a wonderfully rich legacy of mystery and intrigue behind , which has felled many forests to print books on the subject and flood TV screens with documentaries. I shall have to try a post on the subject - I would enjoy that. But not yet!

Again, many thanks to my great Brother-in-Law Tony Hannon for this wonderful gift!
Again

*CLOSE YOUR EYES....THINK ABOUT WHEN LIFE WAS SIMPLE

When life was simple......for most children, little children that is, life is simple. It may be delightful,dull,harsh, even, hurtful but it is usually simple, due to the limitations of the little child's developing brain. A piece of cake can induce ecstasy, a teaspoon of peas may induce reactions of tragedy.

My pre- school years were mostly centred around my parents of course and lived out in our small , two bedroomed home pictured above. I was not conscious of being in any way deprived . I was always well-fed with the prudent necessities of food and regularly enjoyed delights beyond the necessities - including Mum's sponge- cakes: from time to time  true delights.

The weatherboard ( what Americans call "clapboard "I believe), house had a corrugated iron roof, which could produce a not unpleasant noise when rain was soft, but was  totally deafening in heavy rain, let alone hail. It did not look the way it does in the photo ( taken in the late 1960s) . The house had been built in the mid 1920s , and when I was very young we did not yet own it.In those early 1940s its paintwork looked more than a little tired, the front fence was in need of repair, there was no concrete driveway (and as I have said, no car in any case), the double gates for car entrance were wooden , and not well built so that they sagged and had to be lifted to open. Of course there was no TV aerial seen in the photo. That came several years after the introduction of T.V. in  1956, around 1959 I think .

My Dad worked Shiftwork in those years at the Garden Island Dockyard.In fact he worked Shiftwork even when he later worked for the Metropolitan Water Sewerage and Drainage Board at nearby Potts Hill Pumping Station and later at Ryde Pumping Station for the few years before his retirement.Dad's Shiftwork meant that he was not as significant a factor in my bringing up as he might otherwise have been,He worked Morning , Afternoon and Night Shifts in weekly succession with a break of about four days at the end of each cycle. Night Shift was the worst week for me because Dad left home about 7.30 to 8.00 p.m. to start at 9.00 p.m. When he arrived home about 6.00 - 6.30am he went straight to bed and would not be up until about 2.00 p.m. This meant "SHHH!Remember Dad's asleep!" Echoing in my ears whenever I wanted to do anything amusing.Especially in the small house with its timber floors and linoleum floor coverings of the time.
I subsequently learned that the War had prevented us enjoying a lot of things such as chocolates, sweets and soft drinks, and Ration Books ruled the domestic economy - a Socialist's heaven. But now and then Dad's work at the Dockyard paid off. Servicemen were not denied these little luxuries and some were happy to trade their issue or sell it. So, coming off Night Shift and arriving home as I was having breakfast he would often reach into his pocket , and with feigned surprise "find"a small bar of chocolate or some other treat for me.

Dad used to travel to and from Garden Island by a workers Ferry from Circular Quay, then walk to or from Wynyard underground Railway Station to home. At Circular Quay on the Eastern Corner of Pitt Street was Plasto's "SHIP INN"a regular port of call and centre of "devotion"on his way home. Each year we used to have brought home the large format Calendar of the "SHIP INN" which always featured large black and white prints of sailing ships that had frequented Sydney Harbour and in many cases, Circular Quay itself.
Afternoon Shift was not so bad family wise,. Dad left after an early Lunch and got home about 11.00 p.m.
Morning Shift was almost like a normal family , though Dad was gone before I got up he was home in time for Dinner or "Tea"as we always called it ."Dinner"was the Lunchtime Meal.

My Mother was the constant loving presence, the true "hub"of the little family. For my Dad, though he was never cruel or harsh, was not good at any display of affection. I have no recollection of him hugging me, lifting me up or kissing me.It was a not uncommon phenomenon amongst men of the time as literature now shows.( Indeed the Poet James McAuley in the poem "Because"relates the extreme case of his own father :

"Having seen other fathers greet their sons,
I put my childish face up to be kissed
After an absence. The rebuff still stings."

Mum, God bless her, was the very model of loyalty, love and kindness , thinking always of others, ever ready to blame herself for whatever went wrong. Dad's mealtimes were always rigidly observed as if by the most sacred Rubrics. And it didn't matter if this meant her getting up in the depths of Winter to get his breakfast at some ungodly hour when dawn was still a long way off, or having a very late Dinner on the table when he came home at 11.00 pm on the relative Shift. When he came home at night she always had the external light at the back burning bright "to welcome him home".

We all dressed simply, Wartime Clothing Rations ensured that was the case.But there was always a set of "Best"clothes for going out, which would mean perhaps a visit to Grandma Beckmanns (interesting - I typed that automatically, but that was what I called it - Not Grandma & Grandad Beckmann's)or to nearby Auburn which had several important shops, or further afield to Burwood , Parramatta Road to the North and Liverpool and Canterbury Roads to the South .Then again there were trips, sometimes weekly, to the City.

My brother Pat did not feature largely in my life. He was born in 1929 , and so was 11 when I came on the scene, During the War-years he was completing his High School to 3rd Year and then went off to work - not exactly the years he might want to be involved with a baby brother. But in any case I have no memories of him at that time. Interesting really, in later years when his life started going wrong, he would always, or often anyway, reproach Mum & Dad for his shortcomings with the refrain : "He (me) was always the favourite"  now that I reflect on it, I wonder how far back his resentment went . Maybe the arrival of baby me was to him wholly unacceptable. Mum and Dad always spoke of Pat having been "spoiled" by Grandma Dixon and the Aunts and Uncles around in Third Avenue. Even to the extent of giving him a pushbike Mum and Dad had said he couldn't have; whatever he couldn't get at home, he got at Grandma's.Ah, well....

Almost all of my toys were War themed. My pride and joy was a sheet tin toy  - a tank with a little plane attached to it by a wire arm. When you wound the tank up it would go along and the plane would rise up on its wire arm until the tank shot at it with friction sparks! There were the usual lead soldiers and I had a small fort which I think was desert/Foreign Legion themed.Later there was a very small HORNBY most basic wind-up train Red Engine and two carriages I think and a simple circle of track. When Santa came at Christmas he left my few presents in a Pillow Case always left at the foot of my bed for his convenience and he was always provided with a hefty chunk of Mum's delicious Christmas Fruit Cake and a small bottle of Beer! Good old Santa!

So, I had a very nice early childhood thank you Mum & Dad. Whatever your troubles, and photos show the strain of those post Depression War years, you did not let them get to me - models of parental care - thank you!

P.S. I used to play in the dirt under the house when I could, building roads and dirt houses, but always close to the side which in later years had the driveway, the Northern side which let the Sun shine in there. I discovered my brother's much earlier diggings under there too - gave the effort something of an archeological flavour. The discovery of some Red- Back spiders later made the spot forbidden.