Historical Society - stories about our mothers

Following is a story from a book called “Mum’s the Word” put together by the Kempsey Writers Group.  I’m sure there are a lot of people in this area who would have stories about their mothers, the way they grew up, the lives they lived.  Wouldn’t it be great if people could share their stories and maybe we could create a local book about Mothers?  If you are interested, don’t hesitate to contact Carolyn Faint:  67821535.

Mothers    by Marjorie Urquhart

My grandparents met and fell in love in the little town of Manilla in North Western New South Wales.  They were engaged for seven years, and my grandmother was thirty-two years old when they finally married in 1909.  Their wedding photo depicts a serious looking woman in a long white dress with a high neckline trimmed with lace and a lacy veil.  Seated beside her is an equally serious man dressed in a suit and sporting a moustache.  The photo belies a little lady with a great sense of humour and a ready smile, and Granddad never had a moustache when I knew him!  Granddad’s parents came from Wales and Grandma’s from England.

Granddad was a drover and a share-farmer during those early years and Grandma was at times left to bring up their three daughters, Dora, Edith and Lily and one son, William alone.  Times were tough and Grandma used to trap rabbits to supplement the larder.  In 1917 William died from diphtheria, which was a common disease among children back then.  Granddad was droving when the death occurred, which must have been hard on Grandma at the time and Granddad when he returned.

Granddad gave up droving and worked on several properties around the Manilla and Barraba districts.  About 1921, the family moved to a sheep station called “Long Arm” which was ten miles (16 kilometres) from Barraba, where Granddad obtained work with the Capel family.  The house they lived in was the original building on the station, with the log uprights in each corner of the kitchen complete with knotholes and scribbly marks from ancient wood borers.
Family stories say that Grandma made a pretty good home brew.  My uncle used to say, “it gave you a good kick in the back of the head!”  I think she gave up making it long before I came on the scene.

Transport in those times was usually by horse and sulky, making a trip to town an all day event.  It must have been awful in wet or very cold weather, opening and shutting gates as they went, and keeping the groceries dry in the rain.
Around 1928, a slim young fellow named Reg, with dark curly hair, came to work on “Long Arm”.  He was nineteen years old and came from Gosford, where his parents had an orange orchard.  Edith was sixteen years old, they eventually became engaged, and they married in 1935.
They were living with Granddad and Grandma when the first of two sons was born in 1936; Ted was four years old when his brother, Geoff, was born in 1940.  I am a post war baby.  Geoff was only six months old when Dad decided to enlist in the army and joined up at the Tamworth recruiting office.  In February, 1941, Dad sailed on the Queen Mary to Malaya.
It must have been a worrying time for Mum when she received a telegram telling her Dad was a prisoner-of-war in Singapore’s notorious Changi prison.  As she and the two boys were still living with Granddad and Grandma, she had some support at hand.

Marjorie’s mother, Edith

Before he went away, Dad bought Mum a 1927 Essex Overland car so she wouldn’t have to travel to town in the sulky anymore and to make her life a little easier.  The car was christened Selina.  From the photos I’ve seen of an Overland, they were quite a large heavy car with see through roll up blinds for windows on the sides.  As Mum was only five feet tall, I think it would have been quite a feat to drive it any distance on dirt roads.

I imagine Dad probably gave Mum a few driving lessons before he left, but she hadn’t got a licence by then.  Mum told me she used to practice reversing between cardboard boxes out in the paddock and when she went to town, she would park the car in the next block away from the main street and get the groceries delivered to it.  Can you imagine leaving your groceries in an open car these days?
When she felt competent with her driving, Mum was able to get her licence, which must have been a relief.  I believe the local police were pretty tolerant during those times with the women learning to drive while their men folk were away, but I’ve sometimes wondered how Mum felt the first time she drove into Barraba by herself with two little boys?
Selina gave up the ghost after a couple of years and Granddad bought Mum a Dodge sedan which was named Bob, after Granddad’s brother-in-law from whom the car was purchased.  Bob seems to have run well as it was still going strong in 1945 when Singapore was liberated and Dad arrived back home.  In 1947, the year I was born, Bob was replaced with a new Ford Prefect with glass windows, which must have seemed the height of luxury after Bob and Selina.
In the early 1950’s the owners of Long Arm built Granddad and Grandma a little cottage of their own and when Granddad retired, they were allowed to continue living there.  Mum and Dad then had a house to themselves for the first time.

Granddad used to ride his old horse, Blue, down the paddock and bring the milking cows into the yard every day even after he retired.  He passed away in 1958 after fifty-seven years on the station, and Grandma came back to her old home to live with Mum, Dad and me.  Grandma spent the later years of her life living with her eldest daughter, Dora and her family, until her death in 1963 in Tamworth.

Mum did a lot of preserving and there were always bottle of preserved fruit and some vegetables to be used when they were out of season.  In the earlier years she also baked bread until a regular mail service became available and bread could be sent out from Barraba three times a week.  I don’t think Mum missed bread making at all!

Mum and Dad stayed on Long Arm until 1964 when ill health forced Dad to retire after thirty-five years there, and he bought a house in Barraba where Mum nursed him until his death in 1965.  Mum continued to live in Barraba until her death in 1985.

This narrative started off as a story about mothers and the hardships they endured during their lives but I think it has ended up being a story about the family ties that bind people together.