The three of us, Sandra, Michael and David would like to tell you little about our mother.

 Mum was an adventurer and a courageous fighter who fought to the bitter end without complaint. Her adventurous spirit also meant she was at times stubborn and difficult for us kids to deal with. But mostly mum was a vibrant, colourful and fun mother who was very aware of our needs. She made our life colourful and adventurous. We like to share some anecdotes.

 During  a recent study, a group of fifty seniors over the age of 95 were asked the question: “if you had do life over again what would you do differently?” The majority of the seniors answered: “I would risk more”.

 Not our mum, heck no!  She probably  would’ve answered something like: “What are you talking about? My life isn’t over yet! I’ve got a trip planned to go back to Alaska to go hiking with my walker! And I want to make some more pottery and glasswork and I really need some more towels. I am planning a serious shopping spree at the Greensborough shopping mall!”

 Yes, mum was a character who took risks all her life. Just think about it. In her lifetime she immigrated three times: from Australia to Holland, from Holland to Alaska and back to Australia. That alone takes guts.

 Mum grew up in a loving family with her brother and sister David and Dennette just around the corner from here, at number 10 Veitch street. She visited this church regularly and went to school next door.

 Mum met my Dad when she was a stewardess during the early fifties. Dad was stationed in Melbourne as flight engineer. They met, fell in love, got married and three months later dad whisked a pregnant mum away on a plane to that dreary, post war, low-lying country, Holland.

For our mum,  her new life in Holland was a culture shock. Not only did she not speak a word of Dutch, but the Dutch themselves in those days tended to be very formal and somewhat distant. She often told us stories of those first encounters and experiences.

The first time she met our Dutch grandparents was a shocker. Opa Lemereis was the schoolmaster of a school in the farming countryside. Schoolmasters were respected persons of authority. There was a celebration at the school and mum and dad were expected to attend.

All the villagers attending had heard through the grapevine that dad had married a woman from Australia, a country which they hardly could pinpoint on the map.

As mum entered the school and walked down the large hallway bordered by large windows all heads turned. All the locals were staring at mum, the wife of Henk, son of the headmaster.  Dad heard them whispering amongst themselves: “It’s not a blackie. It’s not a blackie.”

In those days many men returned with a wife from Indonesia and for all they knew Dad had married an aboriginie. And if all that head-turning attention wasn’t hard enough on mum, as soon as she sat down in the classroom where the kids were to give a school performance her folding chair collapsed. She was so embarrassed.

Our Mum also had to learn a new foreign language. She did so well at learning Dutch that English and Dutch became one and the same language to her. Especially on the phone. In the middle of a long distance telephone conversation with her mum, here in Australia, my mother would switch to Dutch mid-sentence and ramble on until one of us would yell: “Mum your speaking Dutch to grandma!”

Though we were perfect children, for some reason mum would get frustrated with us angels resulting in very funny language hiccups. For example the Dutch word for dinner plates is borden. At one point she was irritated with us kids just before dinner.  She yelled at Sandra and Michael to set the table: “Sandra you do the plates! Michael you do the borden!” It was hard for us kids not to burst in laughter because that would’ve made her madder!

In Dutch we have two forms of saying  you. One is to address your peers and another when you talk to an elder or a respected person. It’s very hard to translate but imagine mum suddenly addressing us kids in old English when she got mad: “David, thou art a very naughty boy!” Sorry, mum but that just got us rolling with laughter.

She got back at us on one April fools day, though. That day she served us our favorite dessert treat, Jell-O. She told us to wait till all three of us had a serving. As usual Michael was the first to get a mouth full just before Sandra and David got theirs. Our mum watched intently as our heavenly anticipation turned our face into hellish agony as all three of us spit out the fake Jell-O made of potato starch some red colouring and lots of salt. This was her time to shriek with laughter. We did get our real Jell-O after her laughter subsided.

All the way through elementary (primary) school mum made birthday parties into great events. This was quite unusual for Dutch standards. Our special birthday cakes, taken from Woman’s Weekly, were always  fantastic creative and tasty creations. Michael remembers getting a “Cowboy and Indian Fort” and an Airplane decorated cake. Our friends would sit along a fully decorated table and have a ball with the grand finale “the Cake”.

Those fantastic birthday cakes were just one of mums many creative talents. She loved surrounding herself with beautiful things either by buying them or creating them herself. Through a Christmas present from dad she discovered her love for Ikebana, Japanese flower arranging. After years of practice mum became one of the first non-Japanese persons to receive the official title of ‘Master of Ikebana’.

From the Ikebana a pottery hobby developed so she had the perfect vases for her flower arrangements… and she made a great deal of beautiful vases. Many other hobbies followed. The Polar bears and glass plates here are a few examples of the many things she created.

One thing she did not create was peanut butter sandwiches for David to take to elementary school for lunch. She often suffered from bouts of depressions, especially when our dad left on a trip for up to two weeks. Even at a very young age David remembers fixing his school lunch himself and then sneaking off to school way before mum woke up. In a sense mum wasn’t always the classic peanut butter-type nurturing mother when she suffered from her depressions. 

However, when us kids we’re facing serious emotional stuff she would suddenly turn into SuperMum. One time, at the age of eight or so David and a gang of neighbourhood kids went on a shoplifting spree, stealing a sizeable quantity of candy bars from the local store. At night David lay awake, tortured by guilt and the horror of his crimes and went to Sandra to confess his sins. Sandra took David to mum. Mum was all open, loving arms and ears and didn’t make any judgement calls but just listened to an anguished David and consoled him.

Needless to say, neighbourhood crime rate went down to zero because all the criminal infants had to face the shopkeeper and confess their hideous crimes.

She was also a very brave and loving mum whenever she took us kids travelling all over the world. There were many times she would travel alone as a mother with just one of us, introducing us to the wonders and adventures of the world. We would visit exotic places such as Japan, Libya, and the Philippines. This meant great adventures but also torturous shopping trips to jewellery shops. David remembers endless hours of staring at boring jewellery while mum negotiated a lower price.

She just loved shopping with a passion. She could not pass a shop or stall without buying something, anything to quench that thirst. Over the years her collection of clothes, pottery, glass beads, clay, dried flowers, stamps and momentos from all her travels grew to epic proportions. Her love of shopping was so great Sandra made her a promise not so long ago, saying, “ Mum, we’re going to put “She shopped, till she dropped” on your gravestone. “

And that’s exactly what happened. The very last day before she became gravely sick she went out with David and dad to the doctor. Afterwards she asked David and dad if they wanted coffee. It was a trap. She lured us into a lingerie shop where she bought a handful of nighties!

But it’s this anecdote that also showed mum’s incredible tenacity and bravery. Not us, not her failing near bionic body, not the chronic pain, nothing could stop mum to live life at its fullest until the bitter sweet end.

Mum, thanks for being a great mum to us.