Chapter 9
OUR LAST CHILD AND OUR BIG MOVE
In 1966 Belinda was at school, Celene started school, Marcus was at kindergarten and Nick and Madeline were still at home. Our last child, Thomas Aquinas, named after Reg’s favourite saint, was born on July 22 nd 1967 and made our family complete – two girls first, then two boys, then another girl and now another boy – perfect! He was a good baby, much loved by all his siblings and there was always someone ready to entertain and play with him. Our little three-bedroom house was becoming very crowded with three children in each small bedroom so Reg applied to the State Savings Bank for a loan to build on two more bedrooms. What security did we have? they wanted to know. Well only Reg’s job really which was a very good one, a lectureship at Melbourne Teachers’ College and he had been with the Victorian Education Department for 20 years so had lots of security but that was not enough and they would not lend us any money. Still life was good – Reg was only one subject off an Arts degree, he loved his job, our children were all healthy and happy and so were we and our house although small suited us very well.
One morning in the September school holidays in 1967 Reg and the children were at home and I was reading the Melbourne Age while I fed Tom who was two months old. I read a letter to the editor out loud to Reg who was washing the breakfast dishes. It was from a young Melbourne man who was teaching in Kamloops in British Columbia and he said that more Australian teachers should think about working overseas as it was such a good experience. When I finished reading the letter I said to Reg `That would be fun wouldn’t it?’ and he agreed that it would but we said no more about it at that time.
That night after all the children were in bed, we sat down to watch the 7 o’clock news on the ABC and I said to Reg `Have you thought any more about going to Canada?’ and he said `Yes, let’s do it.’ The next day he booked our passages on the Canberra for the following June and began to make enquiries about jobs in Canada. When we told our friends and families of our plans most of them were appalled. Reg had been teaching for the Victorian Education Department for 20 years, was a lecturer at Melbourne Teachers’ College and had good superannuation. `Why would you throw away all that security?’ they said and `How could you think of travelling overseas with six little children?’. Reg’s father said tersely, `That’s the stupidest bloody idea I ever heard of in my life’ and never mentioned it again. We had no encouragement from anyone yet our resolve never wavered and we never even considered the possibility that it would not all work out.
Completely undaunted by the almost universal wet blankets we went on with our plans. Reg wrote to many school districts in Canada enclosing his qualifications and experience and most wrote back offering him jobs as there was a shortage of teachers in Canada. In our extreme naivety we decided that it would be better just to wait until we got there and then choose the most agreeable place to live.
I can only remember having one real moment of trepidation about the move and that was when I woke up one morning from a nightmare in which four year old Nick had fallen over the side of the ship. Nick was always a livewire, never walked if he could run and was a great climber. He of all the six would be the most in danger and the hardest to watch so it was natural that he should feature in my night terrors. I told Reg about my dream and we discussed what we should do in the event of somebody falling over the side. It takes a long time for a big ship like the Canberra to stop so there would be little hope of rescue. We decided that Reg should jump in too so that whoever it was should not die alone and frightened. Once we had settled that point, I never worried again as I knew I was psychologically prepared for the worst. The thought of arriving in a strange country with five children and no wage earner was not nearly as terrifying as losing one of our beautiful children.
We all had to have a number of medical tests before we could get permission to enter Canada – chest x-rays, venereal disease tests for Reg and me, a smallpox vaccination for Reg as he’d never had one although the children and I had. It made him extremely sick for days – I think that was probably the only time he wondered whether this was all a good idea! Once having passed all the health tests Reg flew to Sydney for an interview at the Canadian consulate at which he had to show proof of future employment to get landed immigrant status for all of us. He took with him a letter from the school district of Medicine Hat in Alberta offering him a job which he had not accepted but no questions were asked and on the basis of that letter our papers were stamped.
Then we applied for passports and found that we only needed two – one for Reg and one for me with all the children on it. Reg’s friend Peter Robertson came out one Saturday afternoon with his camera – Peter took the photos outside because his camera had no flash and it was 103º F that day, a real scorcher, too hot for clothes and in fact the boys wore only shorts. That was a very hot summer in Melbourne and our grass and garden were all scorched and brown, Reg paid the older children two cents a bucket to water our trees because we didn’t want them to die - we thought longingly of ice and snow. We sold our house to friends who had always liked it and all the contents to various neighbours and friends and said our farewells to everyone.
By this time it was June 1968 and three children were at school. We could not get Marcus in to the Holy Family School as his birthday fell after June 30 th and that was their cut-off date so instead he started school at the local state school, Essex Heights. He didn’t have to cross any major roads to get there so walked by himself right from the start. A group of bullies used to threaten him at the corner of our road each morning – I suggested he just run away from them as fast as he could and that seemed to work. On his last day he celebrated by running through the girls’ toilet block, an action strictly forbidden but of course he didn’t care as he would never be there again – however one of his friends ran through with him which Marcus thought was quite mad as that boy would be at school again the following day.
Our day of departure, June 20 th 1968, finally arrived nine months after our initial discussion and decision. The girls and Marcus all went to school on the last day as the ship was not sailing until that night. We had ten tea-chests and six suitcases and all the luggage to be stowed in the hold had to be taken to Port Melbourne to be loaded on the P&O Canberra . We kept out two suitcases – one for each cabin – and Reg took all the rest. He had to make two trips because they wouldn’t all fit in our station wagon. Returning in the afternoon he glanced at the vacant lot next to our house where a new house was being built. To his surprise he saw Marcus and Nick crouched over a tin can of melted tar and as they saw him and ran towards the car, he saw that the boys had drawn beards and moustaches on each other’s faces and there was tar dribbling down the front of their good clothes and over their shoes. Nick said later that he couldn’t understand why Reg looked so horrified! The clothes and shoes had to be burned in the incinerator, they were beyond help and I quickly unearthed some more clothes and a pair of plastic sandals each from the remaining suitcase.
A kind neighbour had brought in a frypan of rice and stew for our last meal and as we no longer had any chairs or a table we sat around on the floor to eat it and then Reg dashed next door to return the frypan, we had last bathroom trips and all got in the car. Reg’s brother Adrian had bought the car from us, a blue Holden station wagon, and he was collecting it at Port Melbourne.
It was a cold rainy evening when we drove to Port Melbourne. `Canada is very cold’ we had been told by everyone. `You’ll need really warm clothes there’. So I had made little red hooded corduroy jackets for the three girls, lined with pale blue silk and there we were at last in the Customs Hall all lined up in a seemingly endless queue. Belinda and Celene wore their school uniforms to go on board and they were looking smart in their red jackets as was Madeline, the boys somewhat less so because of the tar debacle, baby Tom who was not yet walking was complaining in his pusher about the lateness of the hour and I was carrying last minute items including a basketball, two teddy bears and the family potty – known as The Blue - in a string bag on my arm.
At last we cleared customs and went on board but as we walked down the first flight of stairs The Blue jumped from the over-filled string bag and rolled clattering all the way to the bottom. A kind man chased it and returned it to me. My face was as red as the girls’ jackets and our great adventure had begun.