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Thoughts of Mom on Mothers Day 2015

May 11, 2015
Here is a photo of my Aussie mom and toddler me circa 1949, Victoria, Australia. This was taken shortly after my parents moved baby sister Bev and me from Villa Park, IL to Pasco Vale,(VP to PV) a suburb of Melbourne. Eventually my brothers Gary and Steve were born. Mom couldn't get America out of her mind so after 5 years we moved back to Villa Park, my father's home town. After Dad died, even though she didn't have a lot of money, Mom always managed to go on wonderful trips. I remember her counting all the countries she'd been to and saying, "When I was a young girl growing up in Australia I never imagined I'd be able to travel the world." Traveling was Mom's passion.  She sponsored many trips for us as adults, leaving a legacy of happy memories and precious times spent with family.

Mom traveled back and forth between her homeland and the country she adopted as her own for many years and eventually, she chose to stay here in the U.S. until her death in October, 2013.

How we miss Mom's beautiful Australian accent, and her funny Aussie sayings. We especially miss her intelligent conversations, her inner strength, and her unspoken love for family. Here's to you Mom. I hope you're dancing the jitterbug, and playing cards today, and figuring out your crosswords too.

With love from your eldest daughter, the "willful"one who you never really understood but loved anyway. . .

Pam

Mom's Eulogy

November 23, 2013

Hank: Izobel Mary Enzweiler known as “Judy” left us peacefully in her sleep on the morning of October 21, and we are gathered here to say G’bye.

 

Mom's Garden by Pam:
Everyone who knew Mom knew she loved her garden.  She wrote in her memoirs:

"My father was a very quiet, private person who loved his garden and from him I learned to love the garden as well. I would often sit beside his spade as he worked, turning the soil.  I loved the sweet smell of the earth."

Though she never said so, I think after beautifying the garden of our townhouse in Lombard and getting the cute little tool shed which nestled between our neighbor’s tall pines and our dogwoods, Mom was reluctant to leave. So when we moved into our cottage in LaPorte, as always, her thoughts turned to the garden, or lack of one.  Mom, Bev and I put our heads together and came up with a plan that soon evolved into a place of beauty.  What was once a lawn with one tree became a lush and tranquil garden.  No garden of Mom’s was complete without a Japanese maple, variegated dogwoods, peonies, or her favorite annual, petunias.  She loved the bright colored moss roses, delicate alyssum, and the purple  lobelias.  She would often sit in a white wicker chair in the sun room, looking at her little slice of heaven, watching butterflies, honeybees, squirrels, chipmunks and birds.  How she loved to watch the birds come and go at the feeders and the birdbath, and to see the tiny wrens nesting in the little wooden houses that hung outside the window.  I was reminded when the seed needed filling, and thanks to a pesky squirrel, that was almost daily.  
Although not a religious person, Mom loved her St. Francis statue, not because he was a man of the cloth, but because like Mom, St. Francis loved and cared for the birds. Mom never minded paying for seed or flowers or pots or anything related to the garden—it was her joy.  A simple pleasure, yet one that she could share with her daughters.  So it seems only fitting to plant a tree in Mom’s honor. . . here in the garden she so loved.  Here she will rest. . . among the flowers and the birds and the smell of sweet earth, where she will forever be part of her beloved garden.



Mom's Eulogy by Steve
In these past12 days since mom’s passing, Pam, Bev, Gary & I have been immersed in the process of putting Mom to rest - planning, making decisions, looking over old pictures, cards, letters, thinking of stories, talking about travels and travails, - hers    -   and ours, together, crying and laughing and even arguing.

Pam suggested putting together a website dedicated to Mom’s memory and we all agreed it would be a great thing. We started out just thinking it would be an nice tribute to our mom, a gesture of love -  a way of keeping in her memory alive. I don’t think any of us realized what a cathartic, cleansing and inspiring process it would turn out to be.
Reminiscing and sharing about Mom, we all started to consider deeply what her life meant - at least to us.
It’s hard to imagine the world she grew up in -  the changes she saw in her long life, in a time and place so far removed from what we’re all familiar with.
Mom’s parents were British subjects during the reign of Queen Victoria. Their parents and grandparents were born in England. Unlike most early European Australians, who were transported to the penal colony for petty crimes, her ancestors chose to come to the country of their own free will.
I can picture mom as young girl raised as a very proper turn-of-the-century Englishwoman in family that worked very hard trying hard to create a decent home where everyone was expected act civilly and genteel. Manners and appearance were a given.
Even tho her family was comfortable, life was hard. No TV, No phone, no fridge, minimal heat.
Their house was at the edge of the Melbourne’s suburbs, close to the city, but surrounded by open fields and farmland. Nature was close at hand. Her dad was an avid gardner and they had fruit trees in their yard. One of their trees was eaten by the local dairy farmer’s cow. Mom loved her Dad and loved helping him in the garden. I think gardening was equated with love. Passed from her dad to her, then to her kids.
She was not what I would call outdoorsy, but she loved nature, especially birds.  
 She had an idyllic childhood. She was very happy as a kid. As an adult, even when times were troubled, she said she always woke up and jumped out of bed, excited about what the day might bring. There are so many great stories of those times and I’m really glad she wrote a lot of them down in her memoirs. They say it all and any attempt for me to tell any would fall short.
Mom was a extremely generous. It took me ‘till I was well into adulthood to figure out that that was how she expressed her love. Not so much for material things -  but more as a way to share experiences. As an adult, she never had much, but she always managed to get the money for things she thought were important: dance or music lessons, trips, plants, gifts, a trumpet, a drum set.
Every month, till she left us, she wrote out a check for her favorite charities. She always stuck up for the underdog.
Mom was not just a warm cup of tea with milk, cream puffs on the side. She could be cool, obstinate and opinionated  - and often dismissive with an “Oh piffle!” Or, “He’s a no hoper”
Mom loved simple things: the garden, household projects, a good book, a good laugh, daily crossword puzzles -  her mind was sharp ‘til the end. She was always a hard worker, competent, respected at her job, and ready to lend a hand - always a cup to tea nearby, English style.
In company, she was always polite and pleasant, she loved a good laugh. And she really did love people  - even when she lost patience with them. She always spoke with delight about all her grand kids and great grand kids, and kept careful track of their lives while she was able. She was a great listener and she always had something interesting to say, a great story or thoughtful opinion. When you talked to her, it was always a two way street. I’ll miss the great conversations we shared. The hysterics, The great times we had playing games together late into the night - especially “Risk”.  I know we all miss the trips we took together.
So looking back over mom’s life  - with a magnifying glass, the realization struck us how unique a person she was. How exotic. Born of such a different time and place which we, frankly didn’t really get. And how she must have struggled with American culture, her in-laws, and her crazy American kids. She was just our mom. But what a life!  How do you sum it up in a short speech. It’s an impossible task. What did mom believe? What’s her legacy? One thing for sure, her love for us always shined through  - even if we may have taken it for granted or didn’t always understand it.  
In her journal, she had hand-written a quote from the Aussie poet, Adam Lindsey Gordon,
“Life is mostly froth and bubble, Two things stand like stone,
Kindness in each other’s troubles,
And courage in your own.”
I think she tried to live up to the ideals of these sentiments. But Being human, she didn’t always succeed.
For Mom, I kinda like this quote from Emerson:
“To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children….to leave the world a better place...to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.”  
By this measure, Mom was a success.
Her legacy? Well, we see this tree as a symbol for her love of living things, love of nature and of adding richness to our lives, providing shelter, sustenance and nurturance. We would be such different people without her. As much as I miss her already, I know we haven’t begun to feel the hole that’s left in our lives. When he heard of Mom’s passing, a good friend of mine wrote:  
As a tree can only bear fruit of itself, you are all evidence of the rich source from which you spring.
So we are her legacy. Her kids, Grand kids, Great grand kids.   - All of us that grew from the things she planted. The adventures past and future live in us, the memories of the richness she added to our lives: inspiring an interest in the wide world, a love of the words, playing the game fairly, doing the right thing, or just getting on with it - and just by being the exotic flower from a far off world as our dad saw her in Melbourne long ago.

 

A Mother’s Love by Gary
How would one express the love of a mother?  Unconditional quite often. To bring us forth into the world, to nurture and  to watch us grow,in the light of dawn and our days of learning here in the world.  To be concerned always with the family and their welfare, often in a selfless manner.  I remember Mom’s way of showing her love wasn’t what one would expect or understand always.  It was her way, and family was everything to her.  When she often would say, “Please call me, and make sure your okay in my teenage years when I was away, I didn’t always think, ‘I’m being selfish.’  The sleepless nights that one has to worry about family that we love, always the welfare of our family, particularly mothers.

Mom during her illness and the times we spent getting her well during the 9 months and her convalescence, her main healing visualization was her family together in a beautiful and a joyful scene of pure bliss of love and light.  She had enormous strength and focus to move on and heal and beat the odds against the doctors who said, you can’t.  But she did and succeeded anyway.  She got on the plane and she flew back to you in America.

We owe a lot to our dear mom. With all her great support and good advice she just got in and did what needed to be done. And she sure helped us a lot.  I love you, Mom, and I hope to be reunited in that beautiful garden one day.

 

Tree Dedication by Bev
Mom’s wishes were to have her ashes scattered amongst her beloved plants, but we thought that planting a memorial tree would be a more fitting and lasting tribute to her legacy, a bridge between life and death.  We considered a red bud, Mom’s favorite tree. But it’s small and short lived. It’s also fairly common. We  wanted something with longevity and character, like mom. When a friend suggest the variegated beech, something clicked. While doing some research about the tree, I found the following quote, and it made the tree seem perfect.

“This tree has the potential to develop striking red, brown, purple and white colored leaves. The best way to insure that all the colors show up on the tree is not to baby it. This tree needs stress and hardship in order to show its truest and most beautiful colors. If this tree is overfed and given too much care and attention, it will loose the variegation in the leaves, and fade into a single reddish color.

Perhaps this tree can be seen as analogy for a human life. If all we ever did was sit happily sucking up life and water and nourishment that was carefully fed to us each day, never wanting for anything, we would fade into a monochromatic life.    Sure, we might be healthy and alive, but until we face hardships, until we over     come the insurmountable, take on life’s challenges, and reach for what we need, the world will not see our true colors and beauty in their complete and total rain   bow."

The Flies

November 23, 2013

Mom loved to tell stories.  This is one from the years she lived with Gary on his rainforest property in Queensland, Australia.

We had no sooner settled into the studio after our long flight that we learned about the fly problem.  Several weeks before we arrived Gary and John had gone to a local house farm and obtained bags full of manure for the garden.  Unfortunately, the flies and all their eggs came too.  Every time we opened the door the flies came charging in and every day Gary swung the fly swatter.There were times when we all took turns wielding the swatter.  As many as we eradicated—twice as many kept up the invasion.

Mom’s Love of Travel

November 23, 2013

Written by Mom

Little did I know when I was a  young girl growing up in Australia that I was destined to travel to so many far off places I would never have dreamed was possible.  The very thought of me being able to afford such luxuries then would have deterred any notion I had about traveling outside of this land Down Under. Australia in those days seemed so remote from the rest of the world.  It was the early 1930’s and I was 12yrs. old when an incident occurred that set my traveling juices flowing.  

Our next door neighbour Mr. Martin, had migrated from England as a young man and  was never able to visit his family back in the old country.  When he learned that the British ocean liner  “H.M.S. Strathaird” was due to arrive in Melbourne, on which his brother was a steward, he realised that it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see him after so many years.   Along with his own children, he invited my sister and I to accompany him and his family to Pt. Melbourne to go aboard the ship.  
                                                                                                                                               The ship had arrived earlier in the day and of course it was an exciting event for us to be offered this wonderful opportunity to go on board such a lovely ship.  My first sight of the Strathaird  lying at anchor as we walked along the dock left such an indelible impression on me, so much so, that to this day I can still remember the dress I was wearing even down to the bracelet on my wrist.  

Mr. Martin’s brother delighted in showing us around the ship, from the luxurious lounge rooms, the beautiful dining halls, the ballroom, the sumptuous staterooms for first class passengers on the upper deck and even the engine room below decks.  We were intrigued when he said “Come, I’d like to show our cow.”  He led us down a narrow hallway and threw open the door to a small room.  I expected to come face to face with a real live cow, instead the room was equipped with huge shiny stainless steel  vats, big enough for mixing large quantities of powdered milk and water.  Later, strolling along the deck and seeing all the deck chairs lined up along the ship’s rails, I imagined myself lazing away carefree days under the sun being pampered by waiters catering to my every whim, and to romantic nights under the stars as we sailed off to foreign lands.  I knew it was only a passing fancy, such luxury was meant only for people of wealth.
 
My very first trip away from home occurred at the end of  the second World War. My older brother Ralph had just returned from service after fighting in New Guinea and he decided to visit my aunt who lived in Sydney.  He invited me along and offered to pay my expenses, of course I jumped at the chance.  We boarded the steam train at Spencer Street station and set off on an exciting adventure, for me perhaps, my brother had traveled during the war on trains, but this was my first trip on that lovely overland steam train that was to take us into another state, and on to exciting Sydney.  Actually, our train only traveled to the border of Victoria, where we had to change trains in Albury, the reason being that when Australia was first settled each state was responsible for building their own system of railroads and the gauge of the tracks  differed between all the states. This was very poor management on the part of the countrys’ original planners.  It meant that each time a train reached any state border all the luggage, the passengers and the freight had to be off-loaded from one train to the next, a costly delay in time and money.


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Why the look of surprise?

November 15, 2013

You'll find the answer in Gary's Memory of Mom.

REMEMBERING JUDY By Toni Wass

November 5, 2013

Soft brown hair, a twinkle in her eye and always a beaming smile,
Judy had presence; She had guts, but most of all - she had style!
At times she was "from the Manor-born" but also down-to-earth too
You couldn't help but be captured by her - Well what else could we do

I am sure those Melbourne-ites back in the Forties raised their eyebrows,
When Judy fell in love with a "Yankee" with the handsome looks he was endowed.
Paul Enzweiler swept her off her feet with his charm and his music in a Worldly way,
They wined, dined and fell in love; promising their love forever - come what may!

It wasn't easy for Judy to leave her beloved family to set sail upon unfamiliar waters,
I am sure at times, of the fears and uncertainties it must have sometimes brought her.
With an adventurous soul and in her usual unruffled manner, Judy embraced her new life,
No longer an Aussie girl looking for adventure; from now on she would be an American wife.

Judy and Paul eventually settled down and immediately became busy in raising babies
Two girls came first, then quickly a son; Any more? ...another son perhaps?...Yes...maybe!
Four very special individuals; each with their own enormous talents and quirky personalities;
All very close as a family, They were Judy's pride and joy; her reason for living; her reality.

Izobel Carr, or Judy as I came to know her, never held back in taking life to the limits,
She loved movies and sport; Suggest a game or Western movie and she'd be there in a minute.
Judy loved to hear people's life stories, making you feel so special when she "tuned into you".
She couldn't get enough of travelling to other countries - especially with all her family in tow.
No expense was spared when it came to quenching her thirst for knowledge - as you well know.

Judy, I will always miss your company and our long-distance talks on the phone each week,
We can still feel you and now when we walk in the garden for answers, it is you we will seek.
Go in peace Judy and spare a thought sometimes for us mere mortals left behind to carry on
You packed a lot of living into your ninety one years - to me a lady of character - ever so strong!

Lots of laughs in Strathmore

November 4, 2013

This photo was taken by my wife Heather in the dining room of our home in Strathmore (Melbourne).
In the centre of the table was one of Heather's famous desserts - an Aussie pavlova (which comprised soft meringue, heaps of fresh cream, strawberries and passionfruit) and if my memory serves me correctly, was one of Judy's favourites.
This get together was one of many that we hosted at our home. As can be seen from the photo everyone was having a good time. Pam certainly seems to be enjoying herself - perhaps her smile was in contemplation of all of the pavlova she was about to eat???
 

Don't Quit Your Day Job!

November 3, 2013

On one of the many ocassions that mom was visiting Steve in California we were all sitting around discussing music. Steve and I had spent some time in a couple of garage bands earlier and we were musing about future directions. I had seen John Hammond perform a solo act a few years earlier and had fantasized doing something similar. With a bit of hubris I announced that I'd like to do something like that in the future (in my mind's eye giving myself a few decades to prepare). Without missing a beat, mom looked right at me, and with a bit of shock and disbelief asked, "Dan, do you have that kind of talent?" I couldn't help but have a good laugh at her directness (that of course mirrored my own inner fears), which only she could have responded with! I did take some solice in noting that she had never seen me perform. Nevertheless, as time has passed, my mailbox continues to remind me that Phil Spector will probably not be getting back to me any time soon. Mom, I owe you one!

Gary's Memory of Mom

October 31, 2013
Mom was always close to Uncle Max and used to say he would never come to America. Whenever Max was asked to come and visit Mom he would always make some excuse not to go. I decided for Mom's sake to try and change his mind. I phoned Max and told him that I was planning a trip to America and would he come with me. His reply at that time was a hasty 'Yes' but when I told him I had already made arrangements, he quickly made excuses why he couldn't go right now. Despite his predictable resistance, I thought I would persist anyway with trying to get him to go. After I told him that the tickets were already booked and paid for, he had no choice in the end as the tickets were non-refundable. I didn't tell my family about the trip as it was meant to be a surprise. We flew to L.A. where my brother Steve showed us around the sights with Stephanie and her sister Dede. We travelled through the South West to Chicago by train and took a cab to my sister's home in Lombard. Pam was very surprised when Uncle Max and myself arrived at her front door in the cab. Pam kept our secret and arranged to meet the next day at Bakers Square Restaurant. Uncle Max and I hid in booths across from Mom and the others. I walked behind a waiter and appeared in front of her. After a long story about Max not being able to come, he suddenly appeared in front of her as well about 20 minutes later, much to her big surprise. The look on her face was priceless! To reunite them in America made everyone very happy. My mother and Max both spoke of it later with very fond memories. The family then took Uncle Max on a grand trip across America. But that is another story...

Memories of My Mother, as written by Gary Enzweiler

October 29, 2013
Mom as a girl grew in Melbourne and had a fear of certain animals. I remember when she was living here at my home in Australia and she was staying in a trailer on the old tennis court. Each evening I would walk her to the trailer because she was afraid of stepping on the (hundreds of ?) many clusters of cane toads along the way. Years later, I built a flat or unit in the house. She would ask me to come down and remove any geckos that may be lurking in shadows in the flat. When the family travelled to Cape Tribulation near Cairns in North Queensland, we stayed in a shared room, at the Jungle Lodge in the Rainforest. The room was open to the outdoors, so during the nit, while in a deep sleep, and snoring, the bats were flying around over Mom's face. As they caught insects in the room. I didn't have the heart to tell her what had happened in the night. My interests in gardening and landscaping was cultivated by Mom. She was an avid gardener who instilled in me the love of home and all it's facets from architecture to building and in my work over the years. Mom, I will miss our weekly talks and visits, your passion for life and learning is instilled in me forever. Love you Mom Gary
October 28, 2013
When I was a kid there were two times a year my life changed drastically. The first was when my Gram headed off to Australia for 6 months. I hated that day. I hated to see her go. She was always my biggest supporter and she always made me feel special and I couldn't imagine how I would live without her for half of the year. As sad as the goodbyes were, the day she was arriving back to us was always one of my greatest days of the year. We would drive out to O'hare, park the car and go into the airport. Back in those days we could go all the way to the gate so when she walked off the plane we were there to see her. I loved walking through the international terminal with the big globe hanging and all of the flags lining the hallway. It felt so exotic and full of potential. Years later I found myself back in that terminal and I was overcome with that sense of wonder and excitement. It was never lost. Grandma always looked sharp when she walked off the plane. She looked fresh and alive with just the right amount of makeup on and her hair was never out of place. You would never guess by looking at her that she had travelled from the other side of the world. I remember this one time when she walked off the plane wearing a grey jumpsuit. She had a fuchsia scarf and purse and matching fuchsia pumps. She walked off the plane like she was walking a runway and I remember thinking that I must have the coolest Grandma around. She always brought us treats from her home country but I was just glad to have her back. To see her smile and to feel her love and presence again. I hope to someday have the chance to feel that excitement of seeing her again after this long trip she has taken.

The House that Dad Built

October 26, 2013

Mom and Dad started out their married life in US. Three years and 2 daughters later, Australia beckoned to them both. Shortly after arriving in Melbourne my dad started work on a house, building it on a lot across the road from my maternal Grandparents, who gifted it to them. It was a humble house, but they were happy there. It holds a special place in our hearts because my dad built it with his own hands.

Mom

October 26, 2013

“Gardens are not made by singing "Oh, how beautiful," and sitting in the shade.”

 

“God could not be everywhere, and therefore he made mothers.” 

- Rudyard Kipling

 

How do you even begin to tell the story of a parent at the end of her life? So much of their life is hidden from us and the whole parent-child relationship is rife with misunderstandings and complications, unfulfilled hopes and aspirations; hurts and healings.

After all, it all seems somewhat amusing and all that’s left is the love of a great mom - and stories. So many good times and stories! 

My Mom was of the most steadfast and strong-willed people. Very determined.  When she quit smoking, she just quit, poof!(no poof) She never dieted, but never overate. She didn’t really exercise, but was always active and fit until her first stroke. She remembered every bloody thing and if you forgot, you were a nincompoop and she let you know it. She loved babies, kids, animals (especially birds), gardens, board games and cards, crossword puzzles, tennis, history, biographies, a good adventure (of a quite civilized type, thank-you very much), was passionate about dancing and music, liked a good “cuppa”, “googie” eggs, rogues and order. She loved to a good laugh.

She hated pushy, manipulative, unmannered, unprincipled or inconsiderate people; neglect, being called "Ma", haughtiness (even tho she was sometimes a bit haughty herself!), unfairness of any kind, losing at games, fantasy and sci-fi, traveling after sunset, rainy days, and disliked anyone “mucking with me tea” (English style - no flavored or herbal varieties, please!).

She was a natty dresser (check out the pics), expected her children to be the same and was quick to let you know if your appearance was not up to her standards (mostly it was not). She was the type that would iron your underwear and always ask if it was clean before you left the house - so often that for years I got skid marks worrying about skid marks. No child of hers would be caught literally dead with soiled drawers. Where I was going, or what I was doing was secondary. I suppose I should interpret this that she trusted me - trusted that I was a decent kid, a decent person, so I guess she didn’t worry too much unless I came home after curfew. I certainly tested her faith, but she always stuck up for me. 

Mom was a very proper post-Victorian colonial. Once, when I was in Australia, I was asked where my family was from by a somewhat ockerish Queenslander.* When I told him, “Melbourne”, he drawled gustily and good-naturedly, ”Oh, their a bunch o’ Pommies** down there”. It’s kinda true. Old school Aussies can tend to be an easygoing rough and ready sort. Mom was a bit of a blue blood. After all, Victoria ruled the colony when both her parents and grandparents were born. She made her appearance only 20 years after Federation. In 1921 Australia was still under the sway of the Crown appointed Governor General.  Most of Australia’s roots involves crims*** and their overlords - the descendants of “transportation”, which was the sending abroad of hoards of the great unwashed, poverty stricken street urchins accused of petty larceny or political crimes - the Oliver Twists of England. It was deemed a humane alternative to hanging. Melbourne was settled by whalers, adventurers, wool traders, prospectors, and the store-keepers, and associated business folk and bureaucrats that followed the gold. 

Mom’s family was also a part of the upper economic class. This, I think, conditioned her with somewhat undemocratic tendencies at times. Thankfully she grew steadily out of those as she got older.  We kids - and Dad - didn’t really tolerate the blue blood stuff. She loved All in the Family for it’s social commentary, but I can’t help feel she sometimes felt sympatico with Archie. Still, underneath her frequent just so expectations, she was tender hearted, loved an underdog, and hated unfairness. She also had a soft spot for roguish renegades. 

She was always very proud of her family growing up. They had the nicest house on the block, tennis courts, the best clothes, the first car. Even during the depression they had money. Her great grandmother were Averys of the rail scales. Her maternal grandfather was warden of  Pentridge prison. She was definitely not of a daughter of the transportee class. Clearly, Mom and her siblings had a somewhat privileged and Idyllic childhood and she always looked back on it with great pride and great joy. She loved her parents dearly, especially her dad.

She talked about the great majority of her relatives with love and admiration. She loved her “little” brother Max dearly. Ralph, I think was her favorite - her big brother. She often lamented the small number of stolen moments alone with him she was alloted in later years. She always spoke of Keith with admiration and described as a bit of a rogue - with a gleam in her eye. She always looked up to Joyce and loved her with all her heart. When she talked of her it was always, “My beautiful sister, Joyce”. It broke her heart in two when they drifted apart. She had great stories about her aunties, uncles and cousins, the grandparents and all the characters now long gone. 

She was proud of her blue blood heritage. Yet  - and it seems contradictory to me - she was very proud of the fact that the famous bushranger outlaw/folk hero, Ned Kelly played a part in our family history (you’ll have to read her memoirs to get that story). She loved America, but hers is a soul truly of an Aussie, I reckon. Although I have my own soft spot for Ned, I once expressed the possibility that Ned’s homicidal activities often resulted in a number of innocent victims - her retort made me think I was going to be her next victim. Mom did not appreciate my teasings. I once suggested that there may be some hidden aboriginal bloodline in our family tree (this, I believe is possible, especially when I sometimes look at my siblings’ profiles! Am I the only one that thinks this would be cool?). Again, eyes full of daggers. 

This may seem a bit of a cliche, but what changes she saw in her long life! When she was young, laundry was an all day affair that involved boiling clothes with lye and starching everything, even the sheets! “Refrigeration” was achieved by the utilization of a “Coolgardie Safe”, a kind of non electric passive swamp cooler that kept there food (somewhat) cool. Again, refer to her memoirs.  Milk, bread, veggies, coal was delivery by horse cart through the suburban streets regularly. The milko (milkman) tended his cows, milked them and delivered fresh milk daily (I love this!).

Most people who knew Mom liked her a lot. I don’t think she really understood this. She loved and was interested in people, but she could be a bit unsocial at times - she was a shy and private person. She was easily slighted - underneath it all a sensitive soul with few chinks in her armor. She sometimes had difficulty seeing things from another’s perspective. But she was light hearted, warm, congenial, solid, intrepid, romantic, hardworking, a good listener - good company and  incredibly generous (even tho, as an adult, she never had a lot). Conversations with Mom were seldom boring. She told great stories - especially of early days in Australia.

I’m the youngest of we 4 sibs, born four years after Gary, the next youngest. The three eldest entered the world all within a 28 month span - Mom and dad were busy in the early days! 

The best memories I have of Mom concern travel. Before I started school, Mom worked nights in the admittance dept. at Elmhurst hospital. She was always a working mom - not that typical back then. My earliest memories are of when Mom and I would hop on the bus and head into Elmhurst to shop for the day - these were the days before malls. I have a lot of happy memories of this time. Mom was always a sharp dresser and, barring a lengthy trip to the city, Elmhurst had the best wares. So she’d shop for a dress or something for the house and always let me pick out a toy car - much to the chagrin of my dad when on a subsequent trip he left me balling on Soukup’s Hardware floor when my expectation for a shiny new ride was not fulfilled - spoiled brat.

Trips to the lake every summer - we always got neatly wrapped prizes for seeing cows, cars or what have you of a certain type. I rarely won due to being at least four years younger than the rest, but Mom made sure I got something. The big adventure: the great cruise to Oz when I was 13. Life changing! Mom showed us the Pacific, North and South. San Francisco, Marin County, Los Angeles, Honolulu, Suva, Fiji; Auckland, New Zealand; Sydney, Melbourne, the Dandenongs, my uncle’s sheep station, my grandfather’s “castle” (modest, but a castle) and sharks  - flake to eat and great whites in the bay, outside the beach enclosures. I couldn't stand fish until I went to Melbourne and had "flake"****. This was the first of many South Pacific trips through the years, mostly financed by Mom. 

She always said there would be nothing left to leave anybody after she was gone, so it was better to spend the little money should could scrape together seeing the world together. Absolutely! I often feel my penance is suffering the work-a-day world with a gypsy soul that my parents instilled in me - it often feels like a hair shirt. But all the green on God’s green earth could never replace all the wonderful memories of the places we explored together.

Mom was not religious. She believed that there is something beyond this earthly plain, a force for good, which I think she had some personal experience with. But she could never bring herself to have faith in “stories”. Towards the end, I think even those beliefs started to wane, which I found sad. She increasingly thought the odds of an after life slim. Most people get more religious as they near the end. Not Mom. Even the fear of death wouldn’t make her succumb to something she thought of as fantasy. She always said she was a “realist”. 

At the end Mom’s iron will served her well. After her recent fall, she was done. It was her time. She was ready to go and she knew it. No nursing home for her. No prolonged illness. The sooner the better. She talked of overdose: sleeping pills, aspirin. She recalled her grandfather who went to bed, stopped eating and died. She asked my sisters to shoot her and laughed about it! She told me she wished that she’d just have a heart attack. At the end, her body literally rejected food, and then gradually, water. I swear it was her will! Like her grandfather Carr, who she always admired, my mom met death on her own terms. Mom and I did not always see eye to eye, but I’ve always been proud of her. Probably never as proud as now. Proud of her fearlessness, her strength, her will! She went peacefully, but with the quiet force of distant super nova that danced and swirled and jitterbugged out of this world into the next universe - -  or maybe she was waltzing Matilda. G’bye Mom, fare well.  I love you more than you could ever know and will miss you more than I yet know. 

 

“To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children….to leave the world a better place...to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.”  

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

 

 

-Let there be no inscription upon my tomb; let no man write my epitaph; 

no man can.

~ Robert Emmet

 

 

*Ocker - a salt-of-the-earth Australian. Queensland - a state of Oz.

**Pommie - pommegranate, a Brit. Pommegranates, like limes, were used by English ship captains to stave of scurvy.

***crim - Aussie slang for criminal.

**** Flake - shark filets, usually in fish and chips

Dime Pudding

October 26, 2013

from Janet Tobusch Oliver...

Many childhood memories pass through my head.  Judy and my mom were good friends and they lived behind my grandparents house.  I think that's how they met.  Everytime we went to see my grandparents we could just run a very short distance through the yards to get to their house.  Thinking back, the neighborhood was full of kids.  We were full of energy, full of fun and definately crazy.  I don't know how our parents put up with us!  Now scrolling through my brain I wonder, maybe Judy and my mom had a plan that backfired?  Hmmm... 

As crazy as the the kids were, our moms were just as silly...One day...Judy and my mom got this brainy idea that they would make us dessert... "Dime Pudding".  Dime pudding???  What's that you ask??!!!  If my memory serves me correctly, it was Vanilla Pudding and they stirred in dimes for a prize or something. I remember it was yellow.  I recall we all gobbled it down in hopes to get a dime to go buy some candy at Al's Smoke Shop. I hope they sterilized the dimes but I think not.  I remember both of them laughing as we ate it.  Thinking back,  maybe they wanted us to choke because we were so crazy but we're all still here!  I still chuckle at the thought of that day.   

Judy and my mom made life interesting to say the least. Judy was always the light hearted one, she always thought we were funny.  So when my mom would yell at us, Judy would laugh, then they'd both laugh and we'd all laugh. 

The two of them always conjured up something fun to do in the summertime.  We made several trips to Bangs Lake in Wauconda. It was a long ride as we didn't have any real highways.  It was backroads & Route 12 all the way!. Once we got there, Judy and my mom would lay in the sun and one would hope maybe they took us there to have some peace and quiet because once the car stopped, us kids were off, not to be seen until it was time to go home.

We all will miss Judy and her bubbly personality that rubbed off on everyone she knew. She was a part of my childhood life, she made it a better place and I wouldn't trade that for anything! Thank you Judy!

Hospice Angels

October 24, 2013
When Mom turned 91 this year, she was still able to get around pretty good with the help of her walker. One day though, while making a cup of tea, she fell. She hurt her leg, straining to get up. After that our lives changed drastically. My sister, Pam and I live a block apart and shared in her care. Now, she was barely mobile, so one of us would have to be with her at all times. She declined rapidly. Within two weeks she had stopped eating and was completely bedridden. She had lost the will to live. I called the VNA (Visiting Nurses Association) Hospice, whose mission is, "To offer compassionate care to individuals who are at the terminal stage of life". Caring, gentle, comforting, they were here for us. The hospital bed arrived the same day, along with all the meds to keep Mom comfortable. Mom deteriorated quickly but thanks to the Hospice nurses, we felt confident in knowing how to care for her, and were able to fulfill her wishes and keep her at home. She lived only a week longer but died peacefully in her sleep. Life is a journey and along the way, we find, there truly are angels to help us when we need them most. Thank you Amy, Gail, Michelle, Sandy, Christen and the rest of the Hospice team.
October 24, 2013

Summer of 2013; Spending Time with Mom

Mom being 91 years old and frail, my brother Gary and his sweetheart, Toni decided to come from Australia.  They arrived in California, then drove across the U.S. with my brother Steve and my sister Bev, stopping to see the sights along the way.  I, the eldest (and most responsible:>) stayed with Mom to wait for their arrival.   Knowing this might be the last time they would see Mom, the family spent many hours sitting at her bedside, and on occasion, sitting in the sun room overlooking her garden that she loved.  We were very lucky to be able to all be together, along with our children and grandchildren, during Mom's last summer.

A Simple Act

October 23, 2013
When I was a kid I used to like to help my mom with the wash. I remember the clothes line that stretched across the yard from tree to tree, and the long wooden pole we used to hold it up. We would take the heavy wet basket of clothes out to hang, beginning with the sheets that took up the most room. There was something about the methodical act of putting clothes on the line, and hooking the clothes pins to the clothes, using one peg to join two pieces of wash shoulder to shoulder I found fun. Being outside, feeling the warmth of the sun...it felt nice. Whenever it threatened rain, we would run into the yard to unhook the clothes before they got soaked. I remember gathering the clothes, smelling that fresh sweet summer air in them...it filled me with delight. It was an experience I shared with my mom and as a child I loved it. I think she felt the same. We had accomplished something...a simple act. The joy of sharing this simple act with my mother is a memory I will always cherish.

My Aussie Mom

October 22, 2013

During WWII when the Yanks arrived in Australia, Mom fell in love with my father, Paul William Enzweiler from Chicago.  Following the war, the U.S. government sent ships to pick up the war brides and their children from countries around the world. Mom considered it a big adventure!  She took a train from Melbourne to Sydney and boarded the SS Monterey for America.  She arrived in San Francisco, crossed the Seven Mile Bridge, caught a train in Oakland and arrived in Chicago in July, 1946.   Memorable moments of her train ride were seeing the tumbling tumbleweeds across Texas and sitting at her first drug store fountain.  What excitement! For everyone knew the beautiful actress Lana Turner was discovered at Schwab's Drug Store fountain.

In Chicago, Mom and Dad dined on German food at the famous Berghoff Restaurant.  Dad drove twenty miles to the family home in the western suburb of Villa Park where Mom began her new life. She and Dad raised four children— Pam, Bev, Gary and Steve.  She loved working nights in charge of the Admitting Office at the Elmhurst Memorial Hospital, and later as a desk clerk for Stouffer's Hotel in Oak Brook.

Mom loved the garden, crossword puzzles, games (she was highly competitive!) and sports, especially tennis and golf.  And she loved to dance! She had a lot of energy and was always ready to lend a hand, even if it meant pushing a wheelbarrow loaded with stones or hand mowing the hilly lawn on my brother Gary's property.

Mom's love of adventure stayed with her all of her life.  She traveled to exotic places around the world, crossing the ocean many times.  Although she worked most of her life, Mom loved living in America and never regretted her decision to raise her family here. She never tired of recalling fascinating people and places she met in her life.  

Mom lived to the ripe old age of 91. She left us on a bright, sunny October morning, passing peacefully in sleep. Her legacy lives on in her four children, three grandchildren, and ten great grandchildren, all of whom knew and loved her deeply.

I feel so lucky to have had my remarkable mother for all these years, and I will miss her dearly.

 

 

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