11.09.09
It was time to tell our parents
When I got home from dinner that night I burst through the door and said Mum, Dad, Mick has asked me to marry him and I said yes. They were happy for me and asked about an engagement party. I said we wanted it quickly, would two weeks be okay if we had a simple party in the backyard. “Yes of course”, was Mum’s reply.
Mick went along with everything we said. He took me to the city on the weekend and we chose a ring. Invitation was by word of mouth. There wasn’t time for fancy invitations and RSVPs.
As the time was getting closer I was busy shopping for everything we would need. I walked around the corner and bumped into one of Micks close friends. He asked me what I was doing and I said I was shopping for our engagement party of Saturday. Carl looked shocked. He didn’t even know we were engaged. As we talked I realised no one in Mick’s family knew we were engaged. He hadn’t told anyone.
As you can imagine that created a massive fight between the two of us. I told him everything was off until he had told his parents about the engagement. The plan was to have the engagement party and then a few days later break the news of an early wedding. Timing was critical if our plans were to fall into place.
The next day Mick came over and said everything was okay his family would show up. You can’t imagine how relieved I was.
The day of the engagement arrived. I was busy organising food, tables chairs. Time went really fast and before I knew it, it was time for our guests to arrive. Slowly they came. It ended up being a very small gathering and only members of my family and friends came. Mick’s family and friends were no where to be seen. I started to wonder if they even really knew.
Mick said they did but they must of changed their mind and not to worry he would sort it when he got home.
The next day he came over and he said they had all got the day wrong they thought it was the next weekend. I was so young and naive at the time I believed him.
My parents were angry and didn’t believe him but they kept this to themselves.
Our next step was to announce the wedding date. It would be 11 weeks after I turn 18. That would give us time to plan and to make sure we could do it properly.
This too was not going to be an easy slog. Both sets of parents were really difficult. They thought it was too quick and we were rushing in. We simply did not listen. We were in love and we were going to be married. How perfect life would be.
A wedding proposal
I was now 17 years of age. I desperately wanted to move out of home. One of my friends suggested we share. This sounded very exciting. We set out to look at some units in a nearby area. We could only afford a very small amount of money between us. The units in our price range were old and dirty. The were in areas that had not been looked after. The carpets were worn, the curtains torn or missing, the taps leaked and the kitchens looked prehistoric.
Added to this we had no furniture. Lyn didn’t seem too bothered by this. We could use boxes for tables and put a table cloth on it. Milk crates would be our chairs. Somehow the magic seemed to disappear and I didn’t feel that this would be any better than my current living situation.
This really stressed me. I hated home and I didn’t seem to have a future. My attitude seemed to really upset Mick too. He was Italian and his wife needed to stay home until she was married. This couldn’t happen, so he would need to come up with a better solution.
On the weekend we went out for dinner. He seemed really happy that day. In fact he was beaming. Over dinner he told me he had this great plan. We would marry as soon as I was 18 which was less than 11 weeks away. I said yes immediately. This was the perfect solution to my problem.
Immediately my thoughts shifted to an engagement and a wedding. We would need to tell our parents of course! The too would rejoice at our news. All my problems were over.
11.06.09
A little more about my home life
Not only didn’t I have a shakey relationship with Mick, but home wasn’t wonderful either. I guess this will depend on what your life is like. I don’t mean to offend anyone here but mine was always uncertain and volatile. Added to this the house was an absolute pig stye.
My brothers and sisters ran wild and Mum didn’t get out of bed to get us off to school.
Now before you judge her. We had food on the table and she was home morning and night. We were never left alone, she just wasn’t awake all the time.
Mum’s normal wake up time would be around midday on a good day. I realise now she was probably suffering from depression. She didn’t drive, she didn’t have many friends and there really wasn’t much to do. We didn’t even own a TV until I was about six or seven years of age.
Mum’s diabetes seemed to change her personality, she could be so loving one minute then calling you every kind of name under the sun. Having four kids seemed to really stress her. She was often angry and we were getting smacks often. My brother Kyle seemed to cop it more than the rest us. We were belted with the cord off the jug but he was belted with the hose, sticks generally anything Mum could find at the time.
Bernadette and Lyndsey’s relationship was also quite volatile, there were many times when I would come in the middle of a session and referee. I guess I was lucky that I escaped some serious injuries.
Don’t feel sorry for me, I have had a great life. This post is purely to set the scene of my home life and the events that were yet to come.
11.05.09
The relationship develops
Mick and continued to see other, just about every day. He came from a very strict Italian upbringing. His parents wanted him to marry an Italian girl. They thought Australian girls had loose morals and that I would only break his heart.
In the beginning he kept our relationship a secret from them. But over time they started to know that their son was going somewhere. They tried to make it hard for him to see me. They had him followed and I was even threatened by their relatives.
I knew if this relationship would survive the test of time it was going to take some major effort on my part. I was a little too young at the time to know exactly what this would mean.
This relationship wasn’t perfect. I was head strong, focused and wanted to get away from my family (more about that in a future post). He was almost illiterate, had no personal goals or aspirations and just wanted to get married and make babies.
I on the other hand was still young. I wanted to see the world, earn some serious money and become someone, someone other than who I was right now. This was no match made in heaven. Mick saw these atrributes as rebelliousness. He was incredibly jealous and started to become controlling. He was a master at emotional blackmail. I remember this one time when he argued with me and of course I wouldn’t agree to whatever demand he was making and threatened to end our relationship (I did this often but always gave back in and stayed in the relationship) he rushed into the kitchen and grabbed a large knife. He put it to his heart and said he would kill himself if I left him. I started to call his bluff and he got really angry and yelled even more loudly. I was scared the neighbours would hear so I gave in. Lucky I did because Mum came home with a kitten and she wanted to keep it. My Dad didn’t like cats and she knew she wouldn’t be allowed. She wanted Mick to say he given it as a present for me. After our little argument, this played right into his hands and of course he said yes.
Another time I wanted to go out with a girlfriend. Mick didn’t want me to. We argued in the car and I threatened to leave as I felt he was suffocating me. He turned onto a busy highway and drove on the wrong side of the road with cars coming towards us until I changed my mind.
So my relationship wasn’t perfect and my home life wasn’t either.
11.02.09
My first disco and boyfriend
I was about 14 years of age when my friends invited me to a local under 18s disco at a local school. It was on a Friday night and was a chance to get dressed up and hopefully meet a boy.
Back then there seemed to be an order for my life. I would do school, meet a boy, get married and have my own children. Girl’s didn’t need to go on to higher education or worry too much about what they would work as. At the time I thought this was everyone’s idea of the perfect life for a girl. My parents were very old fashioned and this certainly wasn’t the viewpoint of families in the 70’s. At the time I didn’t know that.
So my goal in life was to find a nice boy.
At 6:30 my Dad drove me to the disco and dropped me off. I was wearing my prettiest dress and from what I remember way too much makeup. The music was loud and atmosphere was electrifying.
All of my friends were asked for a dance and I was left standing there. The night continued and it seemed to have the same pattern. I was a little disappointed. About half way through the night, this very tall Italian boy came up to my friend and asked her to dance, she looked at him as though he had two heads and said ‘no way’. He seemed hurt and walked away. A few moments later he came back and asked me to dance. Of course I said yes.
We danced most of the night, but this was not the era of mobile phones or social media. The night came to a close and we said goodbye. At the time, I didn’t mind I was so thrilled that someone had asked me to dance.
When I went to school on Monday I started writing all over my folders Gabriele loves Mick. One of the girls in my class had heard about the dance and thought Mick was her boyfriend. She was really upset and refused to speak to me. I decided it might be a good idea to cool it a bit so I quickly rubbed all my scribbles off my folders and pencil cases.
The next day Arlene came in and said ‘its okay, it wasn’t my Mick, it was his cousin, this is his number, he wants you to call’. That was incredible at 14 years of age I had already found my nice boy.
That afternoon, I asked my mother if I could go to the local phone booth. I went with a friend (for moral support of course) and I made the call. We arranged to meet down the street on Thursday night as it was Thursday night shopping.
My parents wanted to know more about him before they would agree to let me go. So I made another phone call. He was 18 (and I was only 14), he worked in a factory on a process line and he had a mustard Datsun 180b. I went home and proudly gave my parents this information. They didn’t seem as happy with the details as I was. Then my worst fears came true, I wasn’t allowed to go. I cried and cried and cried. Eventually my parents had a change of heart and said I could go but there would be some ground rules. I was not allowed in his car until I was 16. I had to take a friend and we must catch the bus. Fortunately for me, one of my friends was allowed to do anything she wanted. So of course I asked her to come with me.
Thursday came and we caught a bus into town. We met Mick and some of his friends at the bus stop. He was dressed up really nice and he had the cutest smile I had ever seen. The highlight of our night was that he wanted to buy a new record. He was into disco. We found the local record store and he brought a single, from memory I think it was by Boney M.
The night came to an end and we caught the bus home. I was finally happy.
Life was perfect
Time went by and life was reasonably normal. Bernadette and the children settled into their new area and commenced school at the local primary school. Life in the 70’s had its challenges.
Bernadette’s life was filled with twin tubs, fondue, mini-skirts, monsterio delicio, junket, black & white TV. Money was tight so the electronic age seemed to pass her by (apart from the TV and a humble record player).
Some of my favourite memories were around simple every day life: playing music and dancing in the lounge room, fresh milk in the morning at school, fresh bread delivered to our door and home made pumpkin scones. There were no flashy computer games or expensive toys. Our days were filled playing outdoors and swinging on the neighbours willow tree or the clothes line.
I heard something interesting on the TV the other day: ‘remember when playing online had a very different meaning”.
Life continued. Another child was born. There was about 7 year’s difference between Marcus and myself. He too was a gorgeous baby. Sadly I don’t remember a great deal about life back then. I was now a teenager, in high school and now starting to go out with my friends.
10.19.09
So life begins afresh
Lynsey and Bernadette decided to become a family. Back in those days you needed to be married seven years before you could apply for divorce. This meant they couldn’t marry but they could live together.
Lynsey worked as a labourer. His income was small and they decided that Bernadette should get a small part-time job. Around the same time Bernadette was diagnosed with diabetes.
It wouldn’t be that hard to find work, Bernadette could pour a good beer, she could work evenings and childcare could be shared by Lynsey and her family. With enthusisam she started looking for work. Before long Bernadette had a job at the local pub.
Bernadette’s diabetes became hard to manage. This was not as they planned. It wasn’t long and she wasn’t getting calls to come in and work. Now the search for a new job would begin again. Every time Bernadette started a new job her stress levels would increase and her number of diabetic episodes would also increase. This was not a good outcome.
Bernadette and Lynsey were living at her parents. They desperately wanted to get their own place. How was this going to happen? Lyndsey felt he had no choice but to take on a second job. That meant he would work during the day, have a brief tea break and then start another job loading trucks. Both jobs were physically demanding but he had a family now and this would get him through.
Time passed and Lyndsey and Bernadette had a child of their own. A gorgeous baby girl named Bettina. Bettina was an absolute delight, she had beautiful blue eyes, golden curls and a happy disposition.
Eventually they had saved enough to buy a modest house in the suburbs. Life was perfect.
10.06.09
There’s a gap
Between my birth and living at my grandmother’s house many things happened. My mother married some guy who lived down the street from her. He was not my real father and he wasn’t Lynsey the man I grew up believing was my father. I can’t for a moment imagine how her life must of been at the time. All I know is she married a man who was serving in the army and from what I have been told, because he asked her. Later on in my life I would come across a photo of my mother dressed in a red dress standing next to some man in a military suit. This I found out later it was her wedding day. From this union came my brother Kyle. Kyle was born one year later on my birthday. Kyle was a gorgeous young baby boy, full of life and totally unaware of what our future would bring.
I don’t have the details about this family situation and it is not a story the family would share or even talk about. I can only imagine that the relationship was not a happy one. So when Kyle’s dad received a posting to Perth, the relationship broke down and my mother, brother and I moved back in with my grandparents, he of course took up the posting to Perth.
The next fragment I can piece together is from a picture that I found in a family album. My mother is sitting at a table in a club, with a trendy updo puffing a cigarette in some sort of holder. Smoking was popular in the 60s. At the table were several of my mother’s friends. One of these friends was Lyndsey. Lyndsey and Bernadette were on a blind date. Lyndsey was a tall, red haired, slender man. He had nice eyes and a great smile. Bernadette was cautious but his infectious laugh and impeccable manners were refreshing and somehow seemed so attractive. She hadn’t been treated like this before, it was easy to fall in love.
Bernadette and Lynsey started to spend most of their spare time together, now it was time to introduce him to the children. The day came and went. Lynsey was a hit with both children and what was more he seemed to really love them. Could Bernadette move forward now, would people forgive her for her mistakes and most importantly would she forgive herself?
After the birth
Obviously I don’t remember much about my birth. My earliest memories are when we all lived at my Grandmother’s house. I remember living in her lounge room. They had one of those old divans (you know the lounges that unfold to be a rather unconfortable bed).
At the time my mother was a barmaid and my father worked at something called the abattoirs. My father’s name was Lyndsey (or so I thought).
I was really happy. My auties and uncles and all of my cousins would come for dinner every Sunday. Nana has this amazing backyard where we all played.
Let me set the scene. It was a very large suburban backyard. In the right hand corner of the backfence was the chookyard. In the chookyard was an old car where the chickens and ducks played. If we were lucky they may even hide an egg. As a child I loved to go into the chookyard. It was a great hiding place. The car was my limousine and I could drive it whereever I wanted. It was freedom like I had never known.
Next to the chookyard was the pigeon house. We could climb up onto the fence and then up onto the roof. I don’t think it was more than 5 feet but to a young child it was a skyrise. We would climb up there, spread out our arms, close our eyes and jump, soaring like an eagle and then thump we would hit the ground. Laughter would normally follow and then a race to be first to do it all again. These were happy days, life was simple and our lives felt complete.
My birth
Mine was no ordinary birth. My parents were young, unmarried and unequally committed to the relationship. The time was the 60’s (1960s). This is an era where sex outside of married was not easily accepted.
My mother was totally in love with my father. She had known him since she was a young girl. He however was not as committed. I suspect he didn’t understand love or the commitment that comes with it.
They lived in an area populated with working class, hard workers, a little down on their luck and finding it hard to make ends meet. My mother, we will call her Bernadette and my father, Henry came from very different backgrounds.
Bernadette came from a large family. Her father came from an unhappy home. Her mother was born out of wedlock and had been brought up by an Aunty. They struggled to raise their family, living through a depression and a long period of unemployment.
Henry’s mother had been married several times and he struggled to understand family life. To him, it seemed that the man of the house was always angry and rather abusive. His mother worked as a bar maid to make a living. She was doing it tough and life seemed to harden her.
My birth is not a happy one. Both parents are young and struggling to know what to do. My mother had been treated like an outcast during her pregnancy but she wanted to do the right thing. She loved the idea of being a mother. Someone to love her, some one to love. It seemed so simple, the neighbours could go to hell, she would keep this child, she would love it and the child would love her.
I was born in a hospital where my mother gave birth all alone. My father, was out having a great night and wasn’t there for the birth. I found out later his indiscretion on this night, would prevent my mother allowing him to see me. His lack of commitment to the relationship would also impact how my life as a young baby would play out. Thus begins my story.
