Kimberley Sun

by Di Morrissey

  I HAD FINISHED WRITING THE MANUSCRIPT OF THIS BOOK and was discussing with Bernadette, my editor, the family issues raised in the story when she had an idea. Having met my lovely mother Kay and terrific daughter Gabrielle, she felt inspired to ask the three of us about our family experiences. Well, she asked some interesting questions and we decided that you’d enjoy reading our answers. So . . .

  There are two strong themes in Kimberley Sun. One is the theme of stories: every culture, every group, every family and every individual have their own stories. What stories are told in your family – about your family, yourselves, your ancestors?

  Gabrielle

  On my maternal side, the family stories I remember are about creativity, arts, writing, forging new paths, being strong. For as long as I can recall, I’ve been told I come from a line of strong, independent, capable women. I remember stories my grandmother has told, and my mother, about the family sticking together through hard times and good times in the small country town of Wingham in New South Wales. I have memories of my grandmother telling me about her growing up, going to school, her memories of when her brothers Jim and Ron were born, stories of my mother telling creative tales to the chooks in the backyard. There are stories about travelling to the big city of Sydney, of being brave enough to follow your passion and work hard, and travel the world. No matter where you come from, if you want to do something different, live somewhere different, it’s okay, even the norm, in my family. We came from England – my great-grandparents on my mother’s side – every generation has struck out, literally, to find their future. We are risk-taking, determined achievers. It’s our family nature and character. My American grandmother tells similar stories too. I’ve got strength and determination in my blood from both sides.

  Di

  For me stories that connect with family always go back to my grandparents’ house that Poppy built in Wingham where I was born. He and Nana called the house Cricklewood after the London suburb where they’d grown up. (I named a property Cricklewood in Heart of the Dreaming and its sequel.)

  I remember my uncles Jim and Ron as big boys with me toddling after them being a nuisance and calling out, ‘Wait for meeee . . .’ Being pushed around in the wheelbarrow, eating too many mulberries from the tree in the chookyard with my pet rooster, then taking it to the verandah sleep-out for my afternoon nap and telling it stories. (Jim says I hypnotised that rooster.) And I’ve been telling stories ever since.

  I wish I’d known more of Poppy’s stories from his time in Egypt and later in France during the First World War, but like most veterans he preferred not to talk about those days. But really the stories we heard, and later told, were of simple, close-to-nature events of a country childhood, a time of sharing what little one had, a time when money was scarce. One rarely saw beyond the valley, but books and the kitchen radio brought the larger world into our lives. Everyone read a lot, and there was a strong creative atmosphere in Cricklewood. Behind the leadlight doors of the bookcase were masses of books. The room also accommodated the record player and the piano. We used to put on little concerts. Reading was the key and writing down stories seemed a logical progression to me. All the family write.

  There are stories from our postwar years at Pittwater in Sydney, when evening chats around an open fire with Chips Rafferty, or over morning tea with Dorothea Mackellar, were just part of a normal weekend. Those days in a then idyllic backwater came to an end when my father and brother drowned. And my childhood ended too. It was special to take Gabrielle and my son Nick there though, to show them where I grew up. I think they wondered what I did: no TV, playmates only occasionally, no gadgets or fancy toys. Books were always my escape and best friends.

  Kay

  As young people my sister, two brothers and I learned little of our family background and nothing of our extended family still in England. In the 1920s and thirties in a very small country town there seems to have been a reticence to talk (especially to children) about one’s background (maybe due to a fear of town gossip), and Mum’s endearing ability and need to ‘Keep up appearances’. A few incidents became family stories when we were older. Mum’s family all lived in England. Dad’s family lived in the coal mining towns in the Hunter Valley. Grandad was a miner. On rare occasions, such as the birthing of brother Jim, Grandma came to our house to ‘help out’. The night of his birth I woke to find Grandma in the kitchen by the fire with a baby . . . I was told this was a new baby brother. At ten years of age, knowing nothing of the impending event – (how unaware was I?) – I asked Gran, ‘Does Mum know?’ Gran related this story for years, much to my teenage chagrin. We learned nothing of our English relatives, although Mum saved pennies and took my sister and me to England on a P&O ship. It was very cheap in the third-class shared cabin. I was six and my sister three. I remember little of the voyage.

  What do you think about the fact that everyone has stories in their lives that they don’t tell? They don’t want to tell?

  Gabrielle

  I think it’s normal to have stories that are untold. Close bonds come through storytelling, for the members of the family to feel they are ‘really known’ by those closest to them – through telling the good and the bad, honestly and truly. But there are also aspects of every person that are private.

  Di

  Often we think, well that was then, I’ve moved on and who’d be interested. Yet when we do share our stories it is a great bonding process. We all have stories that could be books, but whether we choose to tell them is up to us. I am constantly surprised, and have learned never to judge people till I hear their stories. Sometimes you meet someone and learn fragments of their life and notice the gaps. Often it’s what they don’t tell you that is most telling.

  Kay

  It is normal to have stories that are untold, for one reason or another. My mother was a very private person and we were all told that what went on in our lives was not for ‘outsiders’.

  How important is it to each of you to learn your family stories and know about your history?

  Gabrielle

  I place a high value on knowing my family – who they are, the choices they made, the hardships they faced and overcame. It helps me to contextualise my life, how I came to be who I am, how I’ve been raised and who I’ve been shaped and influenced by. Knowing my family members’ histories helps me understand myself better. I like knowing how my character has been shaped, both through nature and nurture. My mother and grandmothers have been strong influences on my life, and my decisions and their genetics also contribute to my personality. Knowing them and their life paths is very important for me. I cherish their stories. The blood is thick, very thick, in my family! I can see threads of commonality in all of us.

  Di

  I think we all have regrets we didn’t ask more questions and pay attention to the family stories and histories and those of our in-laws. It is important for me to feel part of a continuum, especially because we are a small family. I think maintaining contact with family when separations occur is important to nurture that sense of belonging. I’ve always cherished my mother-in law Dorothy. When Peter and I divorced she was so sad, but she said she’d never stop loving me or being there for me and for Peter and for Gabrielle and Nick. As a new bride in America she made it easy for me and has taught me so much. She’s still fabulous at eighty-seven and we talk regularly. Even though divorced, I have kept the bond with the family of my children’s father. My mother is the keeper of the family flame, and she and Jim are passing on the stories, which we will all keep and pass on too.

  Kay

  Dad came to Australia with his father when he was twelve, and Grandad sent for Gran and his remaining three children when he found work in the Maitland coal mines and rented a miner’s cottage. I think back now with nothing but admiration for my Grandma coming to a new, unknown country in 1908 with three young children on a boat to join her husband and son. Learning of the fortitude of Gran and her family I would like to think determined
some of the characteristics we, her grandchildren, developed and passed on to our children.

  Another strong theme in the book is the relationship between mothers and daughters – at any age. Did you look on your mother differently when you had a daughter, Kay and Di?

  Di

  Having children gave me an appreciation of the love and sacrifice my mother made for me. You always think you know better than your mother but it’s often not the case! I did wonder how on earth she managed without the washing machine and disposables! My life changed with the birth of my first child – Gabrielle. Peter and I were on our own with no family close by, and I fretted and wondered how I was going to cope. And cope for the next twenty-something years. At first it was the overwhelming sense of responsibility that hit me. But by the next day it was joy after joy. She was one of those perfect and easy babies. That’s when I started asking things I’d never been curious about before – how old was I when I started walking? got a tooth? etc. Gabrielle was a lucky baby, Mum sent her books and Dorothy made her exquisite dresses. Reading to Gabrielle brought back the best memories of Mum reading to me each night.

  Kay

  I am not aware of looking at my mother any differently when Di was a baby. It was more a grateful acceptance of her wisdom and having had four children realising that she must know many things I didn’t. She passed on the country kitchen remedies, the insistence that I attend the new baby health centre in the town where a sister in a white veil weighed the child and looked for nappy rash. And of course there were the beautifully crocheted and knitted layettes and shawls she made with care and love for the first grandchild. I thought of my mum and of Di when my first grandchild, Gabrielle, was born and Di was living overseas. The phone call came in the early hours of the morning to say Gabrielle had arrived. I recall the joy and wonderment I felt for a new generation as I walked about my house telling the dogs and the cat and drinking lots of tea.

  What are some of the tensions that spring from the mother–daughter relationship in your experiences?

  Gabrielle

  One thing common between all of us is that we’ve been separated geographically. My grandmother moved away from Wingham, away from her mother, to live her life; my mother then moved outside Australia, away from her mother, to find her career, husband, her path. I’ve grown up with that history on both sides of my family, and have always been away from my family – either across the world, across the country, or across the state. When you don’t have the family Sunday roast every week, communication is different. I don’t know that I’d call it tension, but in our clan, we often have to work at staying close emotionally, more than other families who aren’t so spread out across the globe. When we visit each other, it’s pretty special. And modern technology makes it easier. For my whole life, our family stories have been typed out in letters. I have letters stashed away in closets from both my grandmother and mother, going back to my babybook. Letters are cherished items in our family – treasured records and mementos that are never thrown out.

  Di

  Gabrielle has summed it up so well. The distance has always been difficult. But on balance I have to say the good outweighs the sad. And any relationship needs breathing space, time apart to find out who we are. The growing and changing never stops. So when we come together it is as confident, secure and loved beings with much to share and acknowledge.

  Kay

  Tensions have inevitably sprung from the constant separation, a state or a country away, even a suburb or two – on my part by the heartache of not having my girl close by to share home and work dramas, and of course loneliness. Receiving letters from Di when she went overseas to work in Rome and London were the joy of my day when I came home from work to find the flimsy blue aerogram in my letterbox. I read them over and over, and of course I tried to read between the lines. I have them all safely stored in the old suitcase in the spare wardrobe.

  Are there things that you need to discuss with your mother, or tell her?

  Gabrielle

  Any major decision that will affect my life or my sense of who I am, I discuss with my mother. I do it without even thinking – it’s automatic to pick up the phone and talk to her when I have to make a tough decision. If my heart is broken or my soul is suffering, I call her. It wouldn’t occur to me not to! Major practical decisions, I also talk to my father and my grandmothers. My grandmothers have such clarity, perspective, wisdom and common sense. It’s been very helpful to tap into their experience, as well as my mother’s, when I need their guidance.

  Di

  I suppose it’s a generational and time thing, education too. I know my grandmother was rather Victorian and conservative – one was expected always to be a lady and be ‘proper’. I wonder what she would have made of Gabrielle’s book on sex? I know she never talked about sex to my mother. I was a shy child and found it hard to ask ‘personal’ questions. But Mum and her sister, Annette, used humour as a great way to get the message over.

  Kay

  I expect and hope that Di would continue to discuss with me and any member of our close family anything she feels she needs to. But we are all very independent ladies and respect each other’s space. We talk a lot and chat nearly every day (Telstra loves people like us), and we take an interest in all the big and little things of daily life, from the pets, shopping, ‘Do you need anything at the market?’ to ‘How’s chapter eleven coming along?’

  How do mothers and daughters organise their space so they are available for each other, but not living each other’s lives?

  Gabrielle

  I’m a bad person to ask since I talk to my mother every day. Okay, well, five out of seven days a week at least. You can never live another person’s life, so I hardly infringe on my mother or grandmother’s daily lives. But because we are geographically separated, the phone and email are invaluable to help us keep up with the minutiae of our lives – pets, work, community dealings, etc. We are a chatty family, but we respect each other’s space as well. I’ve never found this to be an issue.

  Di

  I think it’s easy to be so involved with each other as adults and secure in our life path, more or less! It was hard for me when Gabrielle had problems or troubles and I couldn’t fix them, or be there to give her a hug at least. We went through a period of pulling back and needing space to work through issues. But we talked about them, understood why and then we became closer than ever. For many years I was geographically separated from my mother when I worked in London. Visits were few and fleeting. But she had a career and although I know she missed me hugely she never asked me to come home. When I married a diplomat and lived all over the world, I think both grandmothers would have preferred us to be close, but they were only loving and supportive and our times together became more precious.

  Kay

  In my growing-up time my mother was involved in every single thing in our lives. She was the inventor of new games, the person who encouraged us to read . . . and read and read, to play a musical instrument, and she organised and made fancy-dress costumes for school plays and concerts, and insisted on Sunday night sing-a-longs around the piano. We looked to her for advice (or perhaps permission) for every activity. I do not think any one of us would have ‘dared’ do anything Mum did not know about. Anyway, she had this sixth sense and just knew our every move. And she was the disciplinarian.

  You have lived far away from each other. How do you react when you meet again after a period apart?

  Gabrielle

  Whenever I arrive at the airport, and see my mother, from years ago to now, it’s hugs, kisses, talking a million miles an hour. And arriving back at my mother’s house, she always has flowers, notes, presents, even little things, waiting for me and set out in my room. When I arrive at my grandmother’s house, I call out, ‘Helloooo!’ and again it’s hugs, kisses, cups of tea and settling in for chats. I’m immediately and totally welcomed by them both, and I love it. There is no ‘resettling’ time; on the contrary, it’s a c
ase of talking-listening-drinking-eating-breathing-all-consuming-wanting to be completely with them again. It is the same when I go back to America to visit family, except then it’s even more intense because I only visit once every year or so.

  Di

  It’s always astounding that we seem to pick up in a breath where we left off. Every time I put the kids on a plane after holidays and visits, I’d cry and watch the plane disappear till I could no longer see that dot carrying my babies away. I’d cry all the way home and lie in their beds and smell their hair on the pillow, wash the plates from the rushed last meal, and howl. Then I’d wait for the phone call to say they’d arrived safely. After that I got on with things; I’d call Mum to say they were home safe and start planning the next visit.

  Kay

  It is, and always was, a great joy to hear a greeting, see a smiling face, a bunch of flowers, another book to read and hear Di and/or Gabrielle calling, ‘Hello, where are you?’ Then lots of hugs and kisses and ‘Hey, put the kettle on.’ Whether the greeting is at airports, at home, here or in another country, the love spills over and the warmth in my heart is overflowing.

  In what way were you, Di and Gabrielle, influenced by seeing your own mother forge an unusual career path?

  Gabrielle

  I never felt pressured to forge an unusual career because of the success of my grandmothers and mother. I simply grew up knowing I came from a line of determined, talented, strong, hard-working women. And I knew that was in my blood, that I could do it too – if I chose to. I was inspired by my grandmothers and mother to achieve, and I do think the desire to achieve is a strong character trait in my family (on my father’s side too). The fact that both my grandmother and mother followed their instincts and passions made it easier for me to do so as well. We don’t give up easily in my family. We’ve fostered values to work hard and achieve, which is why I persevered with a PhD and my career, despite the obstacles. I’ve always known that if they could achieve what they did with little money but lots of talent, then I could too and with their blessing and support.