Letter to Students 16 July 2007

Dear Reader

I am writing this on Monday night, and it is strange not writing at the end of the weekend.  I have become a creature of habit, and I love the weekly ritual of sitting with a glass of wine and reflecting on all we have done over the past week, and in particular the weekend.  However, the weekend was chocker full of commitments to the family, and although such commitments tie one up on days when it would be nice to rest, I far prefer to help out the family in any way I can.  In many cultures, there is no such thing as a day off, and holidays are a foreign concept. How are holidays viewed in your culture?  When I was a child, Sunday was considered the day of rest, the Christian Sabbath, when our family all went to church and then had a big traditional roast dinner at my grandmother’s house.  She always had roast lamb, homemade mint sauce with roast vegetables and delicious rich gravy.  We then had pavlova and cream, decorated with Chinese gooseberry, now called kiwi fruit.  The fruit which had been brought from China by the early Chinese migrants, most of whom were gold prospectors in Central Otago, were really expensive in my childhood, and we savoured each bite.  I vividly remember those Sunday roasts, the gladioli which stood gaudily pink and strong in their vases, and the smell of my grandfather’s whisky which my bedridden grandfather had in his bedroom.  My grandmother was such an elegant woman who, although she had always had a tough row to hoe, never complained and generously gave of all she had.  My mother told me of the envious looks my grandmother was given when she took her children to town, all dressed in gloriously tailored clothes.  Little did people know that grandma had cut up sheets to create these classy outfits.  It was such a tragedy that she became very ill in her early sixties, at the time when she discovered a love of painting, and her illness prevented her from ever visiting the places she loved to paint.  All she had were the calendar photographs to copy, and I treasure the paintings we inherited.  Unfortunately, some paintings have gone out of the family, and I feel so sad that these heirlooms are lost.  They have no intrinsic value to anyone except those kin who loved her. 

How easy it is to recall one’s past, and as one gets older, these memories become all the more vivid.  However, having said that, my sister has always had vivid memories of our childhood, and puts me to shame with the detail she remembers.  I think my hard drive is so full that I can’t recall as much as she does!  What memories do you have of your childhood?  What are some of your happiest moments?  When I think of my childhood, the Christmas holidays we spent in Geraldine come to mind.  These days were always filled with sunshine, and my sister and I used to run down to the river which flowed behind our motel to see how much water there was.  One year, there was a drought, and we could almost catch fish in our hands.  I smell the cold water splash on the hot rocks as I reminisce, and I feel my father’s warm hand as I walk across the park to watch the fireworks and bonfire at midnight on New Year’s Eve.  We would have a pig in the blanket, a sausage wrapped in white bread, and then creep into our motel as our mother was always asleep.  She hated such public gatherings, and yet my father knew how much we enjoyed them.  As I write, tears well in my eyes as I recall my father and how much he did for me.  In Geraldine, from the age of two, Dad played cricket with me, and continued to coach and encourage me right through my teens. In his obituary, after Dad died in August last year, we wrote, “a true gentleman,” and he was that till the day he passed away. I don’t want this letter to seem maudlin, as I am not feeling down, but I am feeling a little sentimental as I recall my special father.  Do you get on well with your parents?  I had my ups and downs with my parents over the years, but I feel blessed to have been born in Dunedin, and been brought up in such a peaceful place. 

Not all babies are given such a wonderful start, and even some babies in Dunedin are born on the wrong side of the tracks with a lack of real love.  Han and I feel so fortunate that our children have grown up to be well rounded, honest, hard working citizens who are bring up their children with love and security.  We rejoiced in the move of our second daughter and her partner into their first home on Saturday, and I cooked a big meal to share with all those friends who had helped with the shift.  It was such a privilege to share in their joy.  The next day, Sunday, they popped in for a coffee as they only live five minutes away, and in the evening returned for dinner after working all day settling in to their new nest.  Our fourteen year old Jan babysat our granddaughter Ella, and he was so patient as he entertained her when she got tired and grumpy.

As I write about our children, there is a television programme on the street kids in Nairobi.  In spite of billions of dollars being given in aid, so little of it trickles down to these homeless children.  So much money has been squandered by politicians, and yet the same sources of money give to the same corrupt politicians! The forgotten children numb their pain by sniffing glue, and sleep rough. However, through all the misery, there are some programmes which succeed where others fail.  One project, run by a small Italian charity, is headed by some street kids who survived their ill fated beginnings, and uses these street wise young adults to develop programmes which they know will work.  Why does so much money destined for the impoverished end up in the pockets of the corrupt rich?

Enough of talk of something I can do nothing about.  I would sooner invest my energy in things I can assist in improving. Last week, it was decided that my mother would enter a council flat, and I spent yesterday afternoon going through my mother possessions which we had emptied from the caravan in which she lived for the past six months.  I loaded up the Previa, and began the task of settling my mother into her new accommodation.  Today, her new bed arrived at her flat, and tomorrow we will take in her fridge and television which we have stored at our home.  Getting older is not easy, but if you have the support of your family, you can still make the most of every day.  My mother and I have had a stormy relationship over the years, but life is too short to harbour anger. 

As well as helping our family move, Han has been working on our garden and newly acquired cottage.  He is as happy as a sandboy when he works in our garden, and I marvel at his ability to create such beauty.  Han has a real eye for detail, and for being able to see the shapes in a garden.  Today, he moved our queen sized bed into the cottage on his own, lifting it down and upstairs on his back!  We were talking to our ninety two year old dancing teacher today, and he also used to do kind of extreme lifting.  Han said that he hopes that he is as fit as our teacher when he is ninety two years old.  We will have to keep dancing as I think this is the secret to their wonderfully long lives.  However, poor Sid is now mourning the loss of his hearing and sight, and this is such a tragedy as his mind is still sharp.  It must be so hard, as it was for my father, to still be sound of mind, but frail of body.

It was this time last year that I wrote in my letter that my father was becoming increasingly frail, yet he never lost his desire to live.  I believe I am a chip off the old block, and like my father, love to live each day as it is were my last.  A bit of a workaholic, (and I actually wrote alcoholic without thinking!) I squeeze all I can out of each day.  Han worries that I don’t maintain a balance in my life, and I thank him for keeping me grounded.  Speaking of my husband, he has just got into bed but is shivering as he lies on the cold sheets.  He is calling out for me to come and warm him up, so how can I refuse?

Let’s have a great week together, and make sure that you write every day. Remember the KISS principle and you will do well: Keep it simple & slow!

I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Love

Sharron