by Dorothy Turner Christchurch, August 1992
QUOTE: "I shall pass through this world but once. If therefore, there be any kindness I can show, or any good thing I can do, let me do it now for I shall not pass this way again." 1
I knew a lady once, who really did live by these words. She was always willing to help anyone in need. To me, she was a very loving person, a very true friend. Friends that she made in her youth became friends for life. People that she came into contact with in her married years became bosom pals also. The threads of many lives were interwoven and would only be severed upon death.
My friend was born in Australia in April 1902 and she came to New Zealand when her father decided to leave the goldfields of Victoria. There were no memories of the journey, she was just a babe and her elder sister near two. Once the family became settled in their new habitat in the Buller District, mother promptly began bringing forth more offspring, eight in all. Something in the water, perhaps? No shortage of childminders in that brood! My old friend had plenty of practice in helping to care for the younger children; stood her in great stead for when she produced her own little tykes! And produce them she did.
It was July 1920 when this woman, at eighteen years of age, had her life changed forever. If she could have foreseen the heartache and sorrow that would come her way, would she have changed anything? I don't think so. She was in love! She married in the Westport Methodist Church, a man twelve years her senior, by coincidence, also an Australian. (That in itself is another story!) Their first child was born at Stockton not long afterwards but sadly, he lived only three days. My heart goes out to the young mother though I cannot fully comprehend just how devastated she must have been, considering the fact that her father had died just a few months previously and now her firstborn, named after his grandfather, also having to be buried. She must have been made of strong stuff, for during the next twenty one years, twelve more babies were to come along, two of those also dying as infants. How on earth did she cope with them all without caving in! Women of her generation should really be commended for their patience and fortitude, love and understanding that was shown, not only to immediate family, but also to others within their community. Folk pulled together in times of crisis and these bonds lasted forever.
Can we, now, imagine a time without automated washing machines and floor sweepers? The continual chore of boiling clothes in a copper; taking the floor rugs outside to be beaten. Does anyone remember the days of the 'Goblin Ace’ vacuum cleaner? My friend would have been in her late forties, early fifties, when her children presented her with this ‘magical’ contraption; her youngest child was attending high school before a washing machine appeared on the scene. And we complain about our lot today! The resilience of women who brought their children up under what we would call ‘adverse’ conditions, was truly remarkable. Celebrate their lives? Of course we should. Not until her youngest child started school in 1947 could my lifelong friend put time into pursuing her own activities, the main interest being the Women's Division of Federated Farmers. Many happy and worthwhile years were to be spent in the company of like-minded women, who gave of their time and talents to help those in need and who promoted the welfare of women and children in country places. This interest lasted to the end of her days. She was honoured with Life Membership at both Branch and Provincial level.
My friend saw her ten children who survived infancy, grow, mature and leave the home nest, to marry and raise families of their own. How diverse those families were, in their outlook as well as lifestyles. It was not until after the death of her husband in 1966 that a lot of time could be spent visiting them all at their respective abodes. Now they could lavish upon their mother the same sort of love and attention she had given them, in years past. How she enjoyed that too! I do not think she quite came to terms with the 'no bra' era as she had more than one occasion to air her displeasure to a grand-daughter! Oh, my! The major highlight’ of her long life would have been when she made a journey to her country of birth in 1968. It was the week of the ‘Wahine’ disaster and such was the weather, all planes were grounded on both sides of Cook Strait. Would she make it in time to Wellington to board the cruise ship ‘Southern Cross'? In her jottings she wrote..."I left Westport by bus at 3p.m. it was a dreadful day, rain falling in torrents, all plane services cancelled. Arrived in Nelson at 9pm. detoured several times en-route, owing to washout, N.A.C. booked us in at Panama Hotel. Early next morning we set out for airport, still heavy rain, no planes of course, so at 12 noon we decided to go to Blenheim with Newman's Coaches. Arrived about 3.30 pm. heard of Wahine disaster. Incidentally the ‘Southern Cross' the ship on which I was sailing was due to leave Wgtn at 12noon on April llth.It was now 5pm. April 10th & I was still stranded in Blenheim. No planes were expected to leave till next day, still heavy rain & no contact by phone to Wgtn shipping lines. Stayed at Masonic Hotel, left 10 a.m. next morning for Picton, with the hope that we may get across by "Aranui". All planes fully booked. Safely aboard "Aranui’ chief officer told us that S.Cross was delayed till 3p.m. Arrived in Wgtn about 2pm. family met me, got me & my luggage aboard safely. Storm had abated, but still rough voyage for first 36 hrs "..2...What a birthday present! What a start to a lifelong dream! The ‘Southern Cross sailed for Sydney at 3.55.p.m. Thursday 11th April, 1968 3 How we all breathed sighs of relief when it was confirmed that my friend had arrived safely . From Sydney she took the night train down to Melbourne, where she was met by maternal cousins and so spent a few glorious months meeting relations and visiting places of interest, especially the area where she had been born. I wonder what thoughts went through her mind at that moment. She had some lovely stories to tell when she arrived back home.
The last seven years of this dear person's life were spent at St. Andrews, in South Canterbury, living with a daughter and family. In that time she had an operation to remove her gall bladder and also underwent surgery for breast cancer. That did not faze her at all. "I'll be fine, don't worry", she said. How could we not worry? She was the lynch-pin that held everyone together. But she came through it well. Her daughter and son-in-law arranged for a reunion to be held over the Easter weekend of 1982, to celebrate her 80th birthday. Families came from all over the country to be with her on the special day. What a whale of a time was had by everyone present. The local ladies helped with the 'do' on the Saturday evening and the little community was really brought alive by the auspicious occasion. My friend seemed to have endeared herself to most of the locals, many of them calling her ‘Grandma’ and there was one especially who referred to her as 'Mum'. They shared the same birthdate.
Why do I write about this woman? Memories stir; thoughts come; pictures form in my mind's eye. Surely she was no more important than any other member of her family? Didn't rise to any great height on the social scale. She struggled and worked to keep the children fed and clothed as every other mother did. She had her share of marital unrest, her husband led her a ‘merry dance’ over the years, but for all that, she remained loyal to her vows. Who was she, this loving, cuddly, bighearted woman? She was my mother. Her name was Olive Jane BENNETT, formerly LOWE, and when she died, I lost my best friend. If all Olive's children were to write a story about her life, there would be ten differing versions because we all saw her in a different light. Being the last of her brood, I was brought up under different pressures, I suppose. I missed out on the laughter and frivolity and ‘togetherness’ of my elder sisters and brothers. Many were the arguments I listened to from behind my bedroom door. As mum said to me, she and dad were far too busy rearing their large family and did not have time to argue. When the older children moved away to make their own lives, so too did the lives of our parents change again.
Mum let it be known to all of us over the years, that no matter where she died she was to be cremated and her ashes taken back ‘home’ to be buried with dad. On June 5th 1984,'...while the dew is still on the roses..,' Olive Jane died in her sleep at the home of her eldest daughter, in Hamilton. She had spent a lovely couple of months in the North Island visiting with the families who resided there, many of them joining to celebrate, not only her 82nd birthday but also the 5lst birthday of one of her sons. What joy! By all accounts the wine went down well! I'm quite sure that mum knew her days were limited as things that had been locked in her heart for sixty years were spoken of; loose ends were tidied up; she had her house in order and so died with dignity. Her cremation service at Hamilton Park, Newstead was a celebration of her life. We honoured:her wish to be taken "home' and so finally, on June 23rd, after a memorial service at Westport's United Church, mother's ashes were interred at the Orowaiti Cemetery.
Olive Jane Bennett was home at last.
Notes:
Bibliography: BENNETT,O.J. April 1969, Personal Jottings. Manuscript. New Penguin Dictionary of Quotations 1945-1980 35th Anniversary Buller Provincial Executive W.D.F.F. 35 Years of Progress. THE PRESS, Christchurch, Saturday April 13th 1968.