FAMILY TRIBUTE 33-

March-April 2013 have been hugely satisfying for me and so many family and friends. My 80th birthday acted as a catalyst and spur to so many enjoyable and even memorable events. It seemed a good idea to share even more IN WRITING account that includes the events, recollection and reflection on the blessed few weeks and more. No doubt slipping from 70s to 80s is a challenging call. Most would regard it’s a pretty deep and rushing Rubicon really as there is no going back when you’re an octogenarian. Not to be taken lightly. Officially, you are old when you breast 65. Why, even the Government is impressed and pays you for the privilege. And where else in the world can you take a “round the world trip” on just $2.50 you sail to Manly, get a bus to Palm Beach, a ferry to Ettalong and a train back to Central ? Statistically, when you hit 75 you are very old. Crashing through into the 80s almost defies gravity. I mean not all that many come out the other side do they? Biblically “Man’s life on earth is three score and ten more for those who are strong” seems the summit. But in Canticles one wonders at the mathematics of “sixty queens, eighty concubines and maidens without numbers” and how possibly they could all be employed?” Our genes are promising enough. The grans on the Murphy side both notched up 80 and the Bashall side performed even a little better- mid 80 and a very creditable 90! And that was before Medicare and a new world of medical miracles. Early enough in January I realised this was a year with a certain promise. I mused at the possibilities. After all, my 75 was a non-event. I would have to put that right. Then, suddenly one night I had a dream-apparition. My mother, Mary Bashall, was hovering, ghost-like but with a smile, in the corner. “Now, Terry, who don’t you do something for the family?” That started a whole train of thought and imaginings. In fact, when I started to apply myself, it unleashed a “storm” of creativity that positively swept me along for the next few months when ideas crystallised into plans with rich in possibilities. It somehow connected with the “solidarity” among our mums who met for so many years to picnic and chat and share the “goss” about families. Now followed on by their daughters. Wouldn’t this be a grand opportunity to recognise, thank, pay tribute to and celebrate with so many who had played rich roles in ensuring that I had even reached this high point as a Marist Brother? “Family first” I always say. Gradually a plan began to emerge to engage widely. The timing was opportune. I discovered that mum’s family, the Bashalls from Proud Preston in Lancashire had emigrated 100 years ago! Pop and John came earlier to set up for the family and later, the “Irishman” sailed through the heads with those four pretty Pommy girls and Jim, escorted by grandma. Shortly, they were settled in Rose Bay and they used wave to the “Irishman” every few months as fresh cargo sailed in.