Boy meets Girl, and a lifetime begins

It was 1972.

It was a local dance. There were only two in town of a Saturday night, the Pacific Ballroom or the YMCA.  The Pacific was where they had all the old time dances but the YMCA was where the music was loud and the dance floor was shaking.
I chose the YMCA.
My older sister went to the Pacific.

I had finished my secondary education and was commencing training to be a nurse.
I was friends with some of the other girls and a few had decided to go out dancing on this particular Saturday night. I may add that " dancing " is certainly not my forte'. I really do have two left feet. But with the dance moves of the 1970's that did not matter.

A group of guys from Elmore ( a town north of Bendigo ) had also decided to head to the YMCA that same night.
So there you have it.
He asked me to dance.
I said "Yes ".
And the rest as they say, is history.
And here we are 44 years later.

I can't say there were sparks, or thoughts of " this is the one ".
It was just that our relationship evolved and grew.

We talked and danced. It was quite laughable  because he had the same limited dance skills as me. But it did not matter. The night was fun.  So at the close of the dance we exchanged phone numbers with the view of a definite catch up in the very near future.
Although Elmore was only a thirty minute drive away , it still threw many difficulties in the way. Especially as I did not have a drivers licence and "my boyfriend " was not flush with enough funds to have a reliable car.

After I had finished my first block of schooling I moved in to the nurses home at the local hospital. The downside was shift work would be  involved but the upside was that I was now living out of home.
Back in 1972 ( it was pre mobile phones, so contacting people took some planning ) there were pay phones ( yes those old fashioned phones that you had to drop enough money into the slot or you would be disconnected) down in the huge entrance hall and if another student  was around when the phone rang , the yell would resonate around the building for the lucky recipient. If you were not quick enough someone would hang up the phone if they wanted to use it, and you would have to wait until the phone was free and then hopefully return the call to whoever you guessed had rung earlier.
Mind you there was no privacy with the phones as they were in a busy thoroughfare , but even at home there was no privacy  as you sat on the floor in the hallway with the phone connected to the wall by a very short cord, with everyone able to hear a one sided conversation.

Staying at the Nurses home we were governed by many rules.We had a slightly later curfew on a Saturday night but you would cop it from the highest in charge if you did not return on time.  It was entertaining to see all those fun loving girls returning from the Saturday night dances. Cars would line the street with the girls saying good bye to their boyfriends. And the gates were closed and locked at the required time. So lights out and all quiet.

I did eventually leave the nurses home and  move back home.
It was great when I finished my shift to see the blue and white EH Holden station wagon parked out the front . How nice to be picked up by my fella.

When I had my days off my new love  would come to stay if he also had days off. But he would have to sleep on the couch. Even though the 70's were free and liberal, try telling that to my father. And I did think it was wise not to get on his bad side.

On days when we were heading off for a drive we would quite often have my little brother accompany us, as my mother would be working and it was my job to take care of him. There were no harsh words about this arrangement as that was the way things were. Mum needed to work and my brother needed someone to take care of him. So the pair of us were quite happy to have my  little brother  travel around with us.

 At times I would catch the train to Elmore and spend time off up there. Not much to do in the small town during the day, and on your own, but I obviously found enough as I stuck it out.
When we had free time together we always found plenty of areas around Elmore to explore, either alone or with friends from the town. Meals at the Vic pub or the roadhouse were always a night
time treat .

The house at Elmore

After many months of driving up and down the highway we decided that we wanted to become a married couple. Nope, no bended knee proposal. Just discussions about long term  practicality .
So as you can gather we are not the lovey dovey  flowerey type people. Just plain, basic and practical.

We decided to celebrate our  engagement with a party so invitations were purchased and sent out.
No one could have predicted how horrendous the short term future would be.
The plans for our special night were all in place but alcohol and my father were soon to destroy them.

A trip home from the pub and a motor bike doing a u turn at the same time was  a disaster.
Yes the alcohol limit was above the legal amount , but his actions were such a normal occurrence it never really entered his head that an accident could happen.
So the motor bike rider was in a critical condition and was conveyed to hospital and admitted to Intensive care.
I soon learned that he was a resident of that same small town north of Bendigo and known to my fiancée.
So for the next few days, every time  I was, in the canteen having meals I was  listening to nurses say such horrid things about my father ,as he was the car driver. I eventually just  removed my name tag whenever I was off the ward. There was no way I could stand up for his actions or support him in any way, even though  he was my father.

Sadly the motor bike rider passed away .

Due to those events we had no choice but to cancel our engagement party.

So yes, the tentacles of alcohol stretch a long way and destroy many lives.

And that event put quite a strain on our relationship but we came through.

We enjoyed our time together gathering household bits and pieces from small bowls to large cupboards.
We purchased many items second hand, the fridge we painted purple to go with the purple kitchen chairs.
One day we headed to Shepparton to check out a furniture shop over there, and came back with a little ball of fluff. A Pomeranian cross puppy. We had to name him Shep. I don't think Mum was amused  as she had to look after him while I was at work. But Shep loved to travel in the car.

The 1970's were a time when life was a bit  freer and unrestricted.
But the mother in law to be was still a firm believer of rules.
She did not drive and wanted to go to Healesville for a few days so we offered to go also. We stayed in a lovely guest house surrounded by tree ferns and lots of colourful plants. But there would be no staying in a room together for this young couple, not on her watch.

But there were weekends when we did manage to organise a trip away from our home towns.
I wonder if Mum ever twigged

It always seemed that there were powers out there that wanted to challenge our relationship.
At first we had decided to wait until I had finished my training before we got married but then we started to throw around ideas about me transferring to another hospital.
The only way I would find out if I could, was ask the Matron .
She was a very threatening person and I was soon to find out just how strict she was. Well the option of a transfer was refused point blank but then she noticed my engagement ring on a chain around my neck. She then tore strips off me for failing to ask her permission to get engaged.
Yep there were certainly some forces out there to do everything to prevent us from continuing our lives together.
So I cracked it with the hospital and quit my training.

We then felt that we could bring forward our wedding date as there was nothing standing in our way.
                                                    So August 25 1973 we were married .

A 90th birthday without the guest of honour - His life , my memories

When birthdays come around I sometimes wonder what type of person they would have aged in to.
No doubt he would  still  be throwing orders around and more than likely still loving an alcoholic beverage of some sort. And if he was in a nursing home he would  con someone to bring it in for him.

My father was born on 26th August 1927 so this year I wish  we could celebrate his 90th birthday, with him as the guest of honour.

He was born in Bendigo, the son of Bertha and Daniel Kairn

The  brother of Marjorie ,who he adored. Oh yes they had their minor disagreements but he loved to drop in to check up on her and enjoy a cuppa or quickly thrown together meal.

 I do not know enough about his early years and those chats  are something that time did not allow. And there is no one left to fill in all those gaps.  I would think that school was not his most favourite place as he was the type of person who would rather learn in his own way. This report card shows that he certainly did not excel at all subjects

I know he was a Volunteer Plane spotter on one of the towers during the second world war

What drew my Mother to him ?
Due to them divorcing and the relationship having been destroyed for a long time prior to the divorce , that was a question that was never asked.
Why do we not ask these questions as it shows where we have come from and what makes us who we are.
In his younger days Gordon was a bit of a looker so maybe that was the attraction. At this time of his life worked at Bradford Mills in Kangaroo Flat and made some great long standing friends. In the early days they had some great social outings. I remember many long time friends arriving for the Sunday evening barbecue in the shed.

I wonder, if  Mum  knew that he was quite a drinker , if the marriage would have happened. I was told that this bit of information was kept away from her before the wedding.

 Four children, three girls and a boy were the result of this marriage ,born over a span of twelve years.


Speed was one of Dads favourite past times.
He loved motorbikes and fast cars and occasionally hit the ground or another object .

As a young betrothed woman, then a young bride Mum must have been so stressed not knowing if he had had an accident of some kind whilst out riding with mates.
Some of the stories old Jimmy told me made my hair curl about the way they used to ride.

A Panther motorbike similar to one that Dad rode. Jimmy an old friend of Dads who rode with him, gave me this photo.

Many times we went to the Calder raceway and watched the car races and if we weren't heading to Melbourne  we would attend races at the local race track held at what is now the show grounds.
Great fun to see the cars zooming around the track , creating mountains of dust.
And often those cars would end up in our wrecking yard.



Dad was before his time and was recycling before "recycling " became a buzz word.
But back then, we needed to repair and re use things. So there was a definite market for second hand car parts.
He leased a yard and office space in Bendigo where he set up his wrecking business .
Prior to this he was in the suburb of Kennington where he had a few cars scattered around their rented property.

I loved going in to the workshop in Bendigo. I remember going down the rickety stairs to the cellar and climbing up in to the old shed out the back which housed an old boat.
Cullen's fruit shop was a few doors down and the bottle yard was across the road.
Joan was the book keeper and there were a few grease monkeys working on the cars.

Lyttleton Terrace Bendigo

I can't remember how many years the business operated out of this shop but the next move was to a large block of land in Flora Hill. Dad turned his hand at building his huge shed, complete with office, mechanics pit and toilet block. We all had a hand in holding  the massive steel poles while the concrete was poured around them, or making the huge roof trusses . The lift up door was interesting as strong winds would play havoc with it as you were attempting to pull it down and sometimes the wind would blow it off its tracks. This parcel of land was in three titles so the shed was on one, the house on the middle one  and the third and all areas around the buildings were covered by cars.

The view of the back yard, and this was tidy . At one stage we had cars balancing three high. They were a challenge climbing in them.

Dad was clever. And I always remember him tinkering with something. If Dad  could not find the tool that was required for a specific purpose he would just have a go and make it himself. And most times he was successful. In those days many business transactions were  carried out by handshake  and a lot of payments were paid in goods needed or perhaps not needed but taken anyway. A small pony was the result of one such payment and possibly another was a large wooden hulled boat which took up a massive amount of room in the shed.
Whenever there was a travelling circus in town we would be given tickets to the shows and if we went with Dad we were allowed to visit around the caravans afterwards . The showies always liked to use Dads knowledge of repairing bits and pieces.

We always had interesting machinery arriving in the yard. One day we could hear the steam roller in the distance being driven up the hill and it stayed on our nature strip for quite a few years. A Bren Gun carrier was another arrival; goodness knows what job he did to be paid with a Bren gun carrier. Or he may have been reading the For Sales . Maybe he thought it may come in handy one day.
A very useful purchase was a large bus. The seats were pulled out and replaced with bunks. Dad was clever like that. It sat out on private property at Lake Eppalock for a while . So we had a few camping holidays out there. I have no memory of it being sold but I guess it must have been.
A favourite creation was the little jig to go behind Trixie. A nice burgundy red colour with little rubber tyres. We travelled around the neighbour hood enjoying the era of horse and cart, or in this case pony and jig. It was always a favourite to head over to see Auntie Marj, and try to keep Trixie away from her garden. Sadly the cart was wrecked after Trixie wrapped it around a power pole

Dad did teach us girls a few things about cars. Some days we were able to help him as we could  grab tools that he needed . I wonder how females would have been treated back then if any of us had decided to be mechanics. I would be curious to know  if females even were allowed to apply for "male " dominated jobs in the early 1970's.

Dad loved his cars and always had a passion for Jaguars. Many "dead " Jaguars littered the yard.

He was certainly before his time and obviously did not have the confidence or foresight into the way the future would go. We drove a Toyopet ; a very modern car back then  It had been used at the 1956 Melbourne Olympics to drive the Japanese  officials around. I can't remember when Dad took possession of it. Funny though, I do remember falling out of it. Yes a silly little girl who opened the door while the car was in motion. Only slowly mind you as we were entering a family friends property.  Toyota was not a well known car company in Australia the 1960's. Dad was  asked if he would be interested in selling Toyota cars but his answer was " Who would want to buy Japanese cars " Yes the war was still in many peoples minds back then. And look at how popular Toyota cars are now !
I really wish we had photos of his Ford. You see it was converted to gas. Yes, a gas powered car in the 1960's. And the cylinder sat on the front seat. He really cared about safety. !!
He never marketed it  as his answer was why would people want gas powered cars.
Just think what could have been !
When there was talk of creating a Flying Club he was one of the first to put his money on the table. He was a founding member and his name is on a board hanging on the wall at the members clubhouse. The club is still going strong.

Quite a few useful and decorative wrought iron furniture pieces were made by Dad.  I think we all have something made with the twisted steel, whether it be something for outside or an inside piece. He was meant to make the metal railing to go around the front verandah and also the back steps but that never happened . Luckily no one fell off. But at least the one for the back verandah was made..

One piece of equipment he made and I loved to use, was a "hot wire " table. It probably did not fit all regulations but that was never a concern to Dad. The hot wire was used to slice through poly styrene to make shapes. He made many advertising signs for businesses and some very colourful Christmas decorations. I loved cutting out the decorations, but you had to go quickly and smoothly or else the wire would melt a hole in the poly styrene .

He also tinkered in beaten copper , and some of those were hanging in some businesses around the town.
In his later years his vegie garden contained some interesting plants. We use to ask "What on earth is fennel ? " And he grew heaps of it.  And all the funny named herbs. Yes, foods that are now popular in five star restaurants.
He enjoyed making tomato sauce or versions of sauces. I was cautious when it came to taste anything. Once he invited us into the laundry to see his latest batch and offered us a bottle. We declined as we could see the insects sitting on top as the lids were not yet on. He had no idea they were there as  his eyes were not that good ! His potted meat was something that I stayed away from. All sorts of meats were minced up to go in to the mix. I remember that big cream bowl with bricks weighing the top down so the contents would press in to a solid shape.

Dad always had a prolific vegie garden.

He had charcoal pits so he could make his own charcoal to use in his forge. I have no idea if he sold it to others  but I imagine he would have had a market for it somewhere.

He was always using equipment for uses that it was not designed for. He used his welder to cut steel, which apparently is something that you didn't do. And he owned an oxy set so no idea why he did not use that !
He loved having animals around him. His dog and pigeons, and Trixie the small pony lived to a great age.
He lost his licence in the  early 1970's so made friends with many bus drivers. He also walked a lot and had various watering holes along different routes that he took.
One of the biggest fights he had was with the local council.
As the town grew out and houses popped up around the business, then complaints about visual impact started.
The pressure that the council put on him was enormous. Many requests for higher fences so the neighbours could not see the contents of the yard. It was a fight that went on for many years with Dad travelling to get legal help outside of Bendigo as it was a closed shop in his home town.
And more people around meant more theft. Quite often people would scale over the back fence and help themselves to what they wanted.
In his final years he moved in to a variety of boarding houses but still maintained his workshop. His house was long sold but at least he still had somewhere to tinker. He had an old caravan in the shed so he could sit somewhere comfortable and enjoy a cuppa. Whenever you visited him at the shed he would offer a drink and a biscuit. You quickly learnt not to have anything as the biscuit was inevitably quite stale as the packet was left open.
He was a person who in his later years, loved looking after others.
There was always Christmas turkeys to hand out to greatful recipients. A delivery job that took many hours and many beverages to down along the way.

You often wonder what would have been. What would life be like if history had gone another way. Would he still be requesting drives around town all the time ?Would he still be tinkering ? I wonder how he would have coped with the growth of technology.   Would he have loved the internet ? I would imagine he would enjoy researching things using google.

I have friends who are lucky enough to be celebrating their parents 90th bithdays .
And I have friends, like me, who have been living without their parents in their lives for sometime.
No parent  celebrations.
No reason to have that big party.
No longer able to learn about family history

This was the end result of a light plane crash at Bendigo . No idea of the date

The Last Goodbye

You hop in the car, give a small wave and yell a quick    " bye, see ya later "

                                                    But could it be the last goodbye ?

We never really know and it is something that we probably never give a second thought too.
But why would you if the recipient of that good bye is young, fit and healthy.

We all need to accept that it could be a last goodbye !

I wonder how many of us have had a time in our past when  a goodbye was the last, due to a sudden unexpected passing .

A sudden passing while under anaesthetic for a simple operation or being treated for a simple illness or even just taking part in a favourite sport.

Do we still regret not giving a hug or continuing the conversation,  rather than brushing off the person , as you had other things to do !

Many people from the poorest , right through to royalty can regret a quick goodbye. How sad for two young boys to have their mother killed in a car accident a few hours after they quickly ended a goodbye chat on the phone, as they wanted to go and play.

If you have ended a goodbye too quickly or too early then that guilt can play on you for many years.

Will you regret not spending more time saying goodbye to  your loved one as you are both leaving and heading your separate ways for the day ?

How do you say goodbye and hold no regrets if the inevitable happened ?

I don't think it would matter how you said goodbye, you would still have regrets !

You would still carry guilt.

                                We never realise what we had until we longer have it

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The Haze - life has changed

The Haze

In the blink of an eye they were gone

But were they

Or were they just hiding in the shadows.

Did you see them peer out from behind a tree ?

Did you hear a voice whisper in your ear ?

Did you smell the scent that you always associated with them ?

But it was all just wishful thinking

Hoping that it was all just a dream

Someone that healthy and happy could not just “go”

Not that quickly

Not without warning

Not without a hug and a goodbye

It was a haze

A haze of hope and wanting.

Wanting them back in your life.

But it will not be

The coffin has descended

Walk away

Life has changed forever

Family Photos

I had walls full of family photos.
Photos of such happy times.
Smiling faces, arms around each other.
But then the apocalypse happened and everything changed.
My walls are now bare.
I threw many out.
Some I just stored in boxes in the shed.
Why would I want them on display.?
Were they really happy times, or were people just pretending to be happy.
I loved taking photos, just to have a record of happy days.

My kittens at our rented farm house in Rochester when we were first married

I still take photos
And I still have some photos on display; my parents and grandparents.
And my grandchildren, from many years ago, as what did they do !
They are just innocent parties to their parents and others egos.
And why !

Do you have boxes and boxes of old photo albums ?
What do all those photos mean to you
What does a photo show us about the subject being photographed.
Do you see how difficult their life was.
The state of their clothes or their living conditions. Or all those interesting occupations.

To have a photo like this is just amazing for family history.

Photos show many emotions
Can you see the sadness in someone's  eyes.
The glint in the eye from a child's happiness
Or is guilt showing through.

Photos will not hide the increase in weight which may be a sign of too much living the high life or even overeating to hide the feelings of guilt.
Perhaps there is pride in a newly slim body due to a exciting exercise regime

So I always loved going through my photos and recalling happy times.
Now all those happy times are just tinged with sadness.

And many photos are now just lying at the tip !

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How do you treat people ?

Ask yourself a question.
How do you treat people who have  a disability?
Makes you think doesn't it !

There are so many types of disabilities and so many degrees of seriousness of these disabilities that the way you treat people will be somewhat varied.
But at the end of the day respect is what is needed.

These days with political correctness everywhere, everyone needs to be careful what is said and about whom. For example  it seems to be fair game to make fun about  supporters of a football team from a lower socio economic suburb, but that just shows how some people think so little about others. It may be fun and good for laughs, but at who's expense.
And what are children being taught, that it is okay to make fun of people. Children need to learn that it is what  is inside a person that is important and not their income or looks. Because you do not look perfect or spend many hundreds of dollars on designer clothes, or live in an affluent suburb and draw a large wage , that does not mean that you are a lesser person.

In a small way I know what it is like to be the subject of a discussion on disability. You see I was the subject of a social media post stating that I was suffering from a serious mental health issue.  It is quite confronting to see such untruths  posted about you . But it was interesting how much it backfired. No body believed what was written but everyone's comment was exactly the same. " So if you do have this serious problem where is the support from family that should be offered to someone that clearly needs it " So it became quite clear that those who should have offered support and help just turned and walked away.

So is there a difference how people  treat those with a disability ?

It seems that often support may only be offered on a selective basis

Since there has been a change in the family dynamics I now see things differently. Maybe I was blind to many things that happened or perhaps I saw , but did not believe.
For that I am sorry.
Now I am far from perfect and I do not pretend that I have always been an angel but in this journey called life, we are meant to grow and learn
And  I have learnt !
And I am content and happy with the way that I treat people

We all come across people with disabilities in various parts of our life. They are no longer hidden away but many are out in the community, even working in shops or serving in cafes. And it is fabulous to see them conversing with members of the public and enjoying life.
But how do some people treat them.

And how are carers treated. As they also deserve respect and bucket loads of support.

In our family we do have members who have disabilities. Not serious intellectual problems, or physical problems which require round the clock care. But they deserve help and respect.

My beautiful niece has her assistance dog to calm her and help her feel comfortable in new situations. When we have had Willow to stay she has been a fabulous house guest and cleaner and more polite than some humans. I guess I was a conversational subject by some family members, regarding Willow as a house guest,  but we had had a dog for 15 years so having a dog inside was not alien to me.
My niece and Willow are a package deal, you can't have one without the other. I don't understand why some have told her that she should be able to go out without Willow, as she will be with people so should be able to cope.
This attitude  shows that people do not want to understand the difficulties that she faces on a daily basis. She needs support, not people questioning her coping devices.

Our son cares, and supports his wife who suffers from epilepsy. Life has not been great for them and each day brings difficulties. A day planned can quickly become unplanned. A seizure happens without any prior warning. Sadly it is difficult for them to even attend family events. Funds are always short and transportation is just another problem.
They also have to organise shared parental care with their family of six blended children, so that often throws a spanner in the works as well. Pity that they have been ostracised by family members . No sympathy or help offered for her disability.
The children missing out on continuing relationships with other family members. Children need to be able to have support from many family members, not segregated from some, as all people in families can give different types of love and encouragement.

I often wonder if family support would make a difference to the mental health of both sufferer and carer. Can it be seen to be selective. Maybe these days givers of support  need to be seen so they can receive pats on the back or plenty of brownie points.

If this is what is happening now then I have missed something regarding human behaviour.
What a sad world that we live in !!!

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Catholicism, Hypocrisy and a lapsed catholic

Lately the Roman Catholic religion is featuring quite often in all media. And with good reason.
And it will be a long time yet before media outlets are tired of writing articles about the Roman catholic faith and all its  problems from years now long gone.

I am a lapsed catholic. And I will remain a lapsed catholic.
There are many of us around and like myself, many had deserted the faith before the stories of paedophilia had hit the news stands.

Myself and my sisters and brother attended a catholic primary school ,with only the eldest continuing on with a catholic secondary education.
As I have matured I realised that I faced many difficulties in my time at primary school, and in fact I hated it.
It was not a time of fun or laughter or a time where great friendships were formed. Mind you I did make one  long time friend ( Louise is her name ) who also  attended the same secondary school with me and  I am very pleased to say that we have  recently reconnected.

I know that school is not meant to be fun and just a place of learning but catholic schools, all those years ago were places where punishment was metered out on a regular basis

The majority of catholic primary schools in the 1950's or  1960's  would have been pretty much the same.
                    Why were the nuns so cruel. That was not Gods way!

They did not bat an eyelid when striking pupils with the wooden ruler or pointer. And it did not matter whether it was boy or girl: both were fair game.

The rules were strict at school. State schools and catholic schools had very similar rules but catholic schools added other rules which needed  to fit in with the catholic religion.
Numerous times you were asked on a Monday morning what the subject of the sermon was at Sunday mass. And whoa be tied if you did not know. And if you tried to make up a sermon from another church you would be caught out and punished
Yes primary school also meant you must attend  Sunday mass . And as children you were governed by your parents' actions so if they did not go, then neither did you. On very rare occasions we would make the long walk to mass without our parents.

My first Communion Day

When you completed grade six it was expected that you would continue on to a catholic secondary school. Well I defiantly chose to go to a state run secondary college across the road from our house. That choice caused much  upheaval amongst the school community. I would receive beatings by the head nun until I bowed to pressure to agree to attending a catholic secondary school. Which I never did ! I would not give in and I continued to stand up to her. It only stopped once the parish priest visited my father who also stood up for my decision.
So my choice of secondary education was set.

Hypocrisy  was on show constantly through out primary school.

If you were from one of the wealthy parish families who also happened to attend church on Sunday you were fine but the poorer families seemed to be looked down upon. We had kids in our grade who struggled to learn and some who also came from very poor households but help was never around.

The school fee system was an envelope that you needed to bring weekly  and containing a certain amount of money. I never knew how much but it was a rare occasion when we had money to contribute, so you were made an example of in front of the class.

So where did the part about looking after those less fortunate than others disappear to.

As an Altar Girl I never really thought about the value of the jewel encrusted garments that priests wore, or the golden chalices adorning the altar. But now I wonder why is all that necessary. The picture that I have in my head of Christ is him being adorned in brown robes and leather sandals. So why is there so much money in the Roman Catholic Religion. They have become a very wealthy entity
    So now , looking back the hypocrisy was rife.

The beatings, the discrimination of the poor, the show of great wealth all  go against what I was taught.

If we went for a walk to see our Aunt and Uncle and cousins some times we could take the longer way via an orphanage. We were always told by the nuns that they were naughty children who were locked up and we were forbidden to talk to them. Looking back ,how sad that was for those children, seeing us on the outside enjoying freedom. They would be peering through the locked gate and trying desperately to make has talk to them .The stories about life inside that orphanage that have now come to light are so very harrowing. Those poor kids. And they were cared for by a religious order.

      Hypocrisy at its finest again.

We did marry in the catholic church but I never put pressure on hubby to join the catholic faith. He had to attend lessons but the parish priest must have thought he was alright as they spent many hours just playing billiards.
So our wedding was never a problem and all catholic relatives were pleased that we were married in our local church.
I did not have much to do with the church for some time after our wedding

My parents had a very tumultuous relationship with moments of abuse constantly happening.
There was a time when the parish priest declared to my Mother that she must accept her husband and just forgive him. What the  !!!!. So it is okay for a man to beat his wife. Nothing said to him by the priest I might add. Yes the beatings continued until she left him.

The very difficult time we had was when our dear mother passed away. We knew we had to choose a place for the funeral so we settled on the local catholic church where we all went to primary school.
Being  either in our twenties or teenage years we were not skilled at  organising a funeral but looking back we got most things right. A funeral is a day of great sadness and most things just happen in a blur but one thing I can remember is a comment to the congregation by the priest.
                 "And we offer our sympathy to.... yes our dear Dad for the loss of his wife ! "
How dare that priest. My parents were divorced and he used to beat her when they were together.                 
                                          Hypocrisy at it again !

Why would I want to remain in a religion when abuse is acceptable !
My mother was worth more than the church to me so that finished it . I believed that by removing myself from the roman catholic religion that I would be  protecting my mothers memory.
I could not be a hypocrite  and pray with a religion that had such double standards

Our son ,who was born 12 months after  my mother died ,was never baptised even though our two daughters who arrived a few years earlier were.

                      I do not understand the hypocrisy of the catholic faith.

What makes a good catholic
Are you a good catholic if you go to church every Sunday or attend those special church services, like Easter or Christmas. Do you believe that these actions will get you through the pearly gates at judgement time.
Do you treat your family badly , or are you a business person who rips the public off. But then thinks that a visit to the confessional will clear all your sins.

I suppose in some ways religion has moved with the times but the damage has been done. And this can be proven by those Catholics who have now disowned the faith that they were brought up to honour.
The actions of a certain section of the priest hood that is now being told also is something that disgusts me. How cruel to all those children. Certainly not what religion is about.
I  cannot stand by a church where priests felt that it was alright to use children as their sexual objects. The amount of people who's lives have been destroyed is phenomenal and I feel a great deal of sorrow for all the victims.
I believe that if you want to follow a religion that there will be one out there that suits your beliefs and lifestyle.
I just find that there is way too much hypocrisy and I just keep thinking " Suffer the little children who come unto me "
And aren't they suffering. No one protected all those little children


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