Skip to main content

Posts

Getting on - with siblings

How many people fall out with siblings over the affairs of an elderly relative or their estate? A daughter thinks their mother needs residential care but her sister disagrees. Or a father gives power of attorney to a son but his siblings don’t trust him. The potential for conflict is endless.    I saw countless bitter family fights during my years on the NSW Guardianship Tribunal, as it then was. Just when they needed each other more than ever, differences among brothers and sisters tore families apart. Sadly, they often started with a misunderstanding and could have been prevented. Many of the elderly people we saw at the tribunal had disabilities like dementia or had suffered severe strokes. They were not able to make important decisions about their own lives and families were unable to agree. In one case, a granddaughter – let’s call her Kate - moved in with her much loved grandma, Mary (not her real name). Mary was struggling alone and was delighted with her granddau...
Recent posts

That Little Lad Fred - Voyage to Australia in 1814/5

That little lad, Fred, scurried up the gangway with baby brother, Nico, red-faced and panting behind. Fred’s tiny, joyous person provided such sharp contrast to the sullen, disorderly convicts and brutish soldiers, I laughed aloud! Their father, Mr G., hurried after his sons, while Mrs G. and their little girls, stepped carefully in his wake. We were all free passengers on the Francis and Eliza when she sailed from England in 1814. I looked forward to their company in the months ahead. Cork, Ireland After many delays, we set sail but soon encountered wild weather and sea sickness.   “At least we’re underway”, we sighed, as we clung to ropes strung across the deck. Not for long, we weren't. We reached Cork and were delayed for four months! Provisioning was slowed by constant disputes and mutinies among the soldiers and crew and female convicts were brought in small groups from all over Ireland. We watched despondently as the wretched women boarded. “What we...

Redundant and Angry

At the age of 65, I became redundant. Just like that. I awoke one day, a respected and self-respecting professional with valued expertise and experience. I went to bed redundant.   Superfluous, according to my old Oxford dictionary. On the scrap heap, according to my own inner voice. Self-pity is unhelpful but there is a difference, psychologically, between retiring in your own time to enjoy a well-earned rest and suddenly being told that you are redundant. The rest of my life yawned before me like a dark, very empty, cavern, into which I promptly fell. My two colleagues, also older women and redundant, fell into holes of their own. We were all too hurt and humiliated to offer each other much consolation.         Our workplace was being restructured and we had been told that our numbers would be reduced by one. Our offer to reduce our hours so that no one lost their job was rejected – a decision we found hard to accept because there were...

Was my convict ancestor innocent?

When I learned my ancestor was a highway robber, I felt a bit of a thrill! I imagined a Robin Hood sort of character. A rogue with a heart of gold. Sadly, the truth wasn't quite as romantic - just four villains robbing an inn- keeper travelling by post-chaise. There was something unusual about  Charles William Beasley, however, and I wanted to know more.   Charles was sentenced to death in 1793 for stealing  a “wainscot case with a glass front and containing divers watches” [1] and highway robbery - fairly sophisticated criminal behaviour for a 16-year-old stocking weaver  "with brown hair, grey eyes and a fresh complexion". [3]  Luckily, Charles' sentence was commuted to transportation but he was no poor , uneducated boy, driven by despair to a life of crime.  In 1798, after several years on a prison hulk  he was shipped to New South Wales, where he quickly became a successful businessman and pillar of society! While still in his ea...

Fred Meets Elizabeth - love in 19th Century Australia

We rode out to Parramatta, to the Female Orphan School. I tried to hide my eagerness as we dismounted at the entrance but in truth, I was excited. Mrs Susanna Matilda Ward, the matron, was both renowned and renounced among the ladies of Sydney Town and I was keen to meet her. A demure girl, who may have been one of her charges, ushered us into the parlour and into the presence of a delightful tableau of feminine beauty. Mrs Ward herself was the centrepiece of this enchanting vision. She was very handsome, of course, especially for a matron of her advancing years and she greeted us with an air of genteel delight that made us feel immediately welcome. She smilingly addressed father with exaggerated respect and, had it not been for her laughing eyes, I might have thought her obsequious. She then expressed such admiration for my humble, 16- year- old person that my ears burned.    My eyes, meanwhile, were drawn to the quartet of young ladies draped prettily around her. My ...

Veterans in the War against Ageism

This is a story about my mother. Like everyone in her generation – the Veterans, born before the end of the War – she has a wealth of life experience to draw on as she negotiates the slings and arrows of old age, including ageism. We Boomers can learn a lot from them.  Like many older people, she doesn’t make a fuss or seek sympathy, but she won’t let scammers who seek to prey on seniors get away with it. Take the morning the phone rang, and it was “Simon” from Microsoft. He was calling, he said, because she had a virus in her computer. In her best “little old lady” voice, Mum sounded panic-stricken.  “A virus?” she cried, “How could I have a virus? Is it fatal? What about my grandchildren, could they catch it from me?” In vain, Simon tried to reassure her. All she had to do, he explained repeatedly and patiently, was to turn on her computer and he would fix it. Mum wasn’t listening. She couldn’t be distracted from the fearful consequences of a virus in her compu...