I spoke with my grandmother today, something I haven’t done in a long time. She hasn’t been too well so I wanted to speak with her to hear from her how she was. At 86, you can’t really take time for granted. When we spoke she told me things of her first husband Robin, who was killed in World War II on the HMAS Swan. Of her second husband – my grandfather – Ron, who she married, and then soon after her honeymoon, typed up his orders to send him to the worst fighting zone in Papua New Guinea as it was being pounded by the Japanese Navy. At this time she was working in an administrative division in Brisbane as a secretary. She told me of the tears she had in her eyes as she typed up his orders and then put them into the post pile knowing there was a good chance she would never see him again. This was because she was also typing up the casuality reports for the military executive branch, and only 1 in 10 infantry soldiers were making it out alive. But survive he did, and so she told me a little of some of the years after my grandfather returned about how they became a pioneer family living in a rugged part of Queensland on the coastline where my grandfather was a fisherman. Finally she told me of how she had received a medal from the Australian government the other day to commemorate the 60 year anniversary of that war, as recognition for her part in it, and her generations.
Throughout, I was amazed at her story, and the things she’d seen… and endured. I always saw my grandmother as someone strong and tough in the face of adversity, but I never really understood where that came from. Listening to her this morning, I started to see it.
Hers was a generation that lay witness to perhaps the most changes in the world, than any single generation that has ever lived. When my grandmother was born, horse drawn carts were how country people travelled, cars were only just starting to be used. And communication was only by telegram and letter. She even still uses the term “trunk call” for a phone call outside a local area. Something that was used back in the old old days of telecoms when you had to talk to an operator to “trunk” a connection manually to go outside of your immediate zone. I astound her with my “tales of electronic wizardry” using email and instant messenger to stay in contact with family and friends, and websites for posting photos, and this my online journal. These now being things that are so everyday to us who own this modern age, that they are no more fantastic than a blender, or a mobile phone.
And yet, in the same way, when I talk with her, I am astounded to hear her speaking of history like it was yesterday. She speaks of things I have learned in books with the vivid memory of someone who was there, and who will never forget because she sacrificed part of herself, like so many others, because they had no choice. She isn’t sorry or bitter for any of it, because as she said, that was just how it was back then; they did the things they had to to survive, and that was that.
As I put the phone down, I felt like I had for a brief time been in the presence of someone amazing, and it made me feel good. I feel that in no small way, the strength that flows in my heart and body, has its wellspring in my grandmother.
God bless her.
Padwanna!
The A conversation with an amazing woman by Mentalechoes, unless otherwise expressly stated, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
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