Life and Death - a solemn posting.

Yesterday I went to Canberra to help my father, my brothers and their wives celebrate my father's 97th birthday. We were all together, and it was a pleasant occasion.My daughter, Zoe had come along earlier to congratulate Dad, and to give him a hug. Here he is - blowing out the candles on the cake made for him by one of his grand-children.What nobody wishes to discuss on such occasions is the dark thought that every time we see Dad could be the last. So, lets all make the most of it, eh?

*****

To confirm that last point, I was rung this morning with the news that Roy Freere, a wonderful, gentle and knowledgeable Robertson resident, had died.

I like to think of Roy as generous person, someone who was particularly generous with his knowledge. Roy shared his knowledge with others very willingly, unlike some people who keep knowledge as their private source of power and influence. Roy willingly gave lectures and illustrated talks to local groups about Fungi, about which he was very knowledgeable. He also hosted the annual visits to the Robertson Rainforest by the members of the Sydney Fungal Studies Group. He was also an artist, and print-maker, whose works are available in local galleries.
This image of Roy was taken several years ago when we did a joint visit to a property at Canyonleigh on behalf of the National Parks Association, to check out the potential of a private property for possible inclusion in the near-by Bangadilly National Park.

I understand Roy's funeral will be held in Robertson next Tuesday.

I have already spoken with Joan, to wish her all the best. She has been an absolute model of the loving wife to Roy and a wonderfully caring nurse - over the recent months of his illness. But above all, I think of Joan as Roy's life partner. They were a beautifully matched couple.

Let us remember Roy Freere for the gentle and generous soul he was.
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Vale John McKee - a good friend

This is not a local Robertson posting, but a Canberra bulletin.

I had to go to Canberra today, to farewell my friend John McKee. John was killed in a Ride-On Mower accident on his property at Brogo, on the far south coast. We do not know the details. It is possible John had a stroke, while operating the mower. There is little value in speculating.

The important thing is that whatever happened, John was happy doing what he wanted to do, at his bush property. John was a good plumber (well, a bit rough, perhaps, but always co-operative) and, mostly a cheerful person to work with.

He was a good friend, and really was a "bushie" at heart. He loved raising chooks, and growing vegetables and "mucking about". Although he transferred to the Public Service late in his career, John never was a "Public Servant" at heart. He took his responsibilities, far too seriously, and was frustrated by those "time-servers" he found himself surrounded by. I for one was greatly relieved (for his sake) to see John move to Brogo.

John came up here to Robertson on several occasions, to help out with the plumbing of my cottage. I enjoyed seeing him, and talking to him, while he was here, it was obvious he enjoyed his life in Brogo.

John managed to liberate himself - to a happy life on his farm. Therefore, what is there to not be satisfied with? We will miss John. But he made the most of what he had.

27 March - My late Mother's birthday

I set out to write something else entirely, but writing that date reminds me that it is the birthday of my late mother, Nonie Wilson, who died, just over a year ago (19 March 2006), just short of her 90th birthday.

There was no sadness that she did not make it to that milestone - she was not really "with us" any more, and such arbitrary events become meaningless, when there is little awareness - just pain.





I miss the woman she was.

Not the poor, suffering creature she became, at the end. She served her God, and her husband and family to the best of her ability.

Requiescat in Pace.

Mottos of Life and death

Well, there are lots of slogans which appear appropriate to my personal situation at present. For a brief period, Was tempted to adopt the Nike slogan: "Just Do It!"

For purely personal reasons, and not out of fear of impending lawsuits from the "suits" at Nike, I have decided to stick with my own personal motto:

"Love to Grow: Grow to Love"

On Thursday I was told that my Tumour has not been totally killed by last year's Chemotherapy. I could "wait and see", or I can opt for the aggressive Chemotherapy treatment, the so-called "Industrial Strength Chemo". I have decided to do that, rather than allow the Lymphoma any chance to build its strength back up. I am feeling fit enough to face that course of treatment at present.

It will be short and sharp, with 8 consecutive days of treatment, followed by re-implantation (via a process analogous to a blood transfusion) of the stem cells which were harvested from my blood, late last year.

I know I shall get sick in the process, but if it is as brief as they say, I will be glad to get it over with. So, it is myself I am wanting to "grow", not my tumour.

On Saturday afternoon, my Mother, Nonie Wilson, died peacefully, at a nursing home in Canberra, with her husband, Steve close by her side. They both moved into a Nursing Home late last year, when Mum's condition deteriorated. In fact she had been hospitialised for a while, made a minor recovery, but she was at a stage when no amount of "home care" could provide for her needs. Hence the Nursing Home.

Mum will be buried on Thurday morning, following a Requiem Mass at St Thomas the Apostle Church, Boddington Crescent, Kambah, ACT.

My parents were married for 67 years. Pretty amazing. They were totally loyal to each other throughout their long life together - through good times and bad, in sickness and in health.

She Loved to grow: She grew to Love.

Death in the lower paddock

A family of Pied Currawongs (Strepera graculina) moved into my back yard several days ago. When I woke to the sounds of young Currawongs begging for food, I was immediately concerned for the welfare of the nest of baby Blue Wrens about which I wrote last week.

Sure enough, when I checked the nest yesterday, it had been destroyed. The opening was far larger than it had been, and the nest was empty.

The photo is by J-P Reber, from www:pronatura.ch , which is a Swiss Conservation organisation which kindly permits fair usage of their images for Internet users who are writing about "Nature".

Robertson residents know that Currawongs are great eaters of fruit and berries, for muchof the year. But in breeding season, they change their diet to include far richer foods - fat insects, like "curl grubs"; lizards and baby birds. The adult Currawongs do what most human parents in a Supermarket do - get the kids what they want, to shut them up. The fledglings are totally self-centred and keep demanding more. When I saw a family of Currawongs move into my yard, I sensed that the days were numbered for the baby Blue Wrens.

Given a choice between a family of Currawongs, and a family of Blue Wrens, I know which I would prefer, but I am trying not to be too sentimental about this. After all, Blue Wrens are hunters too, it is just that we humans tend not to care too much about the things which they eat - tiny insects, mostly almost invisible to us. This is all part of the circle of life.

"So pound for pound

feather for feather,

"Blue Wren is as much a killer,

As the fearful Peregrine.

"It is just that we care little for its prey,

humble aphids, midges, and flies."

DJW