Cousins found in friendships

Around 33 years ago, I was fortunate enough to be employed at the Catholic Schools Office in Newcastle in a new role.  The position was Parent Participation Coordinator, which had responsibility for parental involvement in the life of schools and more broadly in children's education.  Little did I know at the time that this position was fraught with resistance on the part of some of the Diocesan Principals and staff.

Some Principals, however, were very welcoming of the role and my presence in their schools and were more than willing to work with me to put in place strategies for the parents to play an active part in the education of their children.  On such Principal, Louise Outram, warmly welcomed me into her community, and a friendship was formed that lasted long after my time in Parent Participation. 

Then, some months ago, shortly before the Family Reunion, I published in this blog a bio of John Jennings - son of Thomas and Bridget- who was the caretaker of the Sydney Cricket Ground around the turn of the century. John was married to a woman called Casina, and as a couple, they did not have any children.

A short time later, I was contacted by Louise who tole me her grandmother had been called Casina. I knew it was not John's wife but I also knew that there were other children called Casina in the family. I aske Louise if she knew the name of Casina's father.  She said he was called Jeremiah, I knew then that there was a connection. It turns out that Louise's grandfather Jeremiah and my grandfather Michael were brothers. Making Louise and I third cousins. 

To say we were delighted was something of and understatement amd we both spent the next little while telling everyone we met about this marvellous connection.

 

GONE TOO SOON: THE SHORT LIVES OF THOMAS AND MARY JENNINGS 

Family History research is often filled with stories and tales of resilience and survival - but sometimes the records remind us of lives that ended far too early.  For Thomas and Bridget Jennings, times were tough and made more difficult by the grief of losing two children, Thomas and Mary, in infancy.

Their tiny lives, though brief, were part of a much larger story in colonial Australia.  In the 1860s, infant mortality was heartbreakingly common.  Across New  South Wales, as many as one in five babies did not survive their first year.  In Newcastle, where the family settled, a town shaped by coal mining, industry and poverty - the risk could have been considered as even greater. 

HARSH REALITIES OF THE TIME

Families like those of Thomas and Bridget lived in small, often damp cottages near mines and along the waterfront. Poor sanitation meant sewage ran through open drains, contaminating water supplies.  Outbreaks of diseases such as measles, whooping cough and diphtheria swept through early Newcastle. Gastrointestinal illnesses (often described on death certificates as 'summer diarrhoea) were especially deadly to infants. 

Feeding infants was another challenge.  If the mother was unwell or unable to breastfeed, alternatives such as cow's milk often spoiled in the summer heat, leading to sickness. Medical care was limited, with doctors expensive and hospitals not commonplace.  Research tells us that children were not routinely treated in the hospital, as its focus was on convicts and workers from the mining industry.  Many families turned to home remedies or simply prayed for survival.

THE HUMAN COST

Although high infant mortality ws tragically common, the death of a child was never treated lightly.  Parents grieved deeply, even if their faith communities encouraged them to accept such losses as "God's will." Some families coped by focusing on the children who survived, while others named later children after those they had lost.

For Thomas and Bridget, the loss of two children must have left a lasting mark, even as they continued to raise their five remaining children, Jeremiah, William, John, Patrick and Michael.

REMEMBERING THOMAS AND MARY

While we may never know the exact causes of Thomas and Mary's deaths, their brief lives may have been marked by simple burial entries.  But remembering them in the family story makes sure they will never be forgotten.

Their short presence reminds us of the fragility of life in colonial Newcastle, and the strength it took for families to build loss while continuing to build a new future for those that remained.

 

The Changing Nature of Language

Last TUESDAY, when I arrived at rehab, one of the therapists asked me where I had been on the previous Friday. My response was “I was playing hooky”. She looked at me blankly, and other young therapists responded that they had never heard of the expression. During an earlier session, I had mentioned I had chilblains - first time for many years - again, a look of puzzlement, as they were unheard of. This came up in my FACEBOOK feed this morning and really resonated with me.

Ever wonder about all of the sayings or words that seem to be lost as we grew older? Lets look at a few of these words…

Do you remember the word ‘Mergatroyd’? Spell checkers don’t even recognize that word. Our computers are confused… Heavens to Mergatroyd!

The other day a not-so-old lady said something to her son about driving a jalopy, and he looked at her quizzically and said “What the heck is a jalopy?” He never heard of the word jalopy!! She knew she was old….. but not that old.

Some old expressions that have become obsolete because of the march of technology. They include phrases such as “Don’t touch that dial,” “Carbon copy,” “You sound like a broken record” and “Hung out to dry.”

Remember when we had lots of ‘moxie’ and we’d put on our best ‘bib and tucker’ to’ straighten up and fly right’?

Heavens to Betsy! Gee whillikers! Jumping Jehoshaphat! Holy moley!

We were ‘in like Flynn’ and ‘living the life of Riley’’, and even a regular guy couldn’t accuse us of being a knucklehead, a nincompoop or a pill. Not for all the tea in China!

Way back, life used to be swell, but when’s the last time anything was swell?

Swell has gone the way of beehives, pageboys and the D.A.; of spats, knickers, fedoras, poodle skirts, saddle shoes and pedal pushers…

Oh, my aching back! Kilroy was here, but he isn’t anymore.

We wake up from what surely has been just a short nap, and before we can say, Well, I’ll be ‘a monkey’s uncle!’ Or, This is a ‘fine kettle of fish’! We discover that the words we grew up with have vanished.

Poof...go the words of our youth. The words have been left behind. We blink, and they’re gone.

Long gone are words and phrases like: Pshaw, The milkman did it. Hey! It’s your nickel. Don’t forget to pull the chain. Knee high to a grasshopper. Well, Fiddlesticks! Going like sixty. I’ll see you in the funny papers. Don’t take any wooden nickels. Wake up and smell the roses.

It seems that there are more of these lost words and expressions than Carter has liver pills. This is disturbing!

We of a certain age have been blessed to live in changeable times. For a child each new word is like a shiny toy, a toy that has no age.

We at the other end of the chronological arc have the advantage of remembering there are words that once did not exist and there were words that once strutted their hour upon the earthly stage and now are heard no more, except in our collective memory. It’s one of the greatest advantages of aging.

We are left to wonder where Superman will find a phone booth… But just consider that no one will ever have the opportunity again for such a great change in wording and phrases. We, at least most of us, are children of the fabulous 50’s. We have been given one of life’s most precious gifts…our memories…

I still call the fridge and ice-box from time to time. That’s what mama called it, so that’s what I call it.

The lost Words from our childhood are gone as fast as the buggy whip! Sad really! Well, I hope you are Hunky Dory after you read this and chuckle.

See ya later, alligator! Okey-Dokey… God bless you all.

Not my article but certainly my sentimants

UPDATE

Tomorrow will be 23 weeks since I had the revision on my hip replacement surgery. As you know, I was in the hospital for 10 weeks, home for 13.I am attending rehab therapy at Toronto Private twice a week. This consists of Physiotherapy and Hydrotherapy It is beneficial, but……..The diagnosis is damage to the sciatic nerve in my left leg, and what I have discovered is that it is impossible to mobilise without some heavy-duty equipment. I use a forearm support walker around the house and a wheelchair when I go anywhere. Going anywhere has been limited to a couple of visits to the shops, numerous doctor and therapy appointments, and the occasional social event. The specialist who did the surgery has me on strict hip precautions, meaning I cannot bend (limits dressing and showering activity), twist or stretch. The rationale for this is to try to prevent further dislocation of the joint ( which has dislocated once since this surgery). The next appointment with him is at the end of the month, and I am hoping he will relax this a little.
I do have much to be thankful for:-1. My Rehab specialist has been excellent in terms of her personal support and management. She tells me I must be patient, and the nerve regeneration is a slow process. I am more than grateful for her care and attention, but those who know me know that patience is not one of my strong points. The pain of the sciatic dysfunction, coupled with the Complex Regional Pain Syndrome, is compounding day-to-day management and is at times absolutely unbearable. 2. Hydrotherapy – getting in the pool and being able to mobilise is just amazing3. Home Care. We were granted a Level 3 (High Priority) Home Care Package. For this, I am grateful, as I don’t think we would have been able to cope otherwise.4. I don’t need to tell you how supportive and practical Terry has been during this time. Without his care, I don’t know where I would have been. 5. The wisdom of my youngest granddaughter. Miss Sophie asked me a couple of weeks ago why I was sad, and I told her it was because I could not walk or drive my car. She thought for a moment and said, “Don’t say you cannot walk, grandmother, you can walk, you just need to use the big walker”. She then said, “When you are in the car, you need to imagine you are a princess and the car is a limousine and Poppy is your chauffeur.”