The Glory Box
As he sits on the verandah of the lovely old Queenslander which has been his home for over eighty years, his mind goes back to the stories he was told as a child of his relatives in Ireland.
He wandered into the house, looking for the big chestnut box, his “brown-eyed girl’s” Glory Box”, which held all their memories. He carried it to the verandah, and as he opened it, the nostalgic scent of times gone by came rushing out. Inside the box were scattered pieces of their life.
He finds the photos of his Irish ancestors. His father’s mum and dad were born in a little picturesque town in Country Tipperary, around the 1830’s. They met, fell in love and married in early 1855, and set about raising a large family of nine children.
The photos are old and grainy now, with the faces staring blankly into the camera, as there did not seem a lot to smile about in those days. Ireland had suffered greatly from the “Great Frost” in the mid seventeen forties, and life did not improve much by the mid eighteen hundreds, as by then it was in the grips of the “Great Famine” which devastated Ireland.
His dad was born in 1859, and no doubt the young man, living with his brothers and sisters in a small farm house, he dreamed of life in a distant land.
In March 1886, he left home bound for Australia. The ship berthed at its destination in May 1886 and his dad began a new life in a new land.
There were a few more photos in an old brown envelope, and he realised they were of his mother and her family. The women looked forlorn and sad, with scarves tied around their heads, the clothes drab and colourless. His mother’s family came from a quaint town in County Clare in Ireland. Her story starts with her birth, when she opened her eyes to the world in 1863. She was the first of ten children, with one sister and four brothers following her to this untamed country of Australia.
With her usual high spirited vigour, she was the first of the family to venture forth and arrived in the mid eighteen eighties. She quickly obtained a position as the Chief Parlour Maid at one of the big homesteads in the area. What an honour it would have seemed at the time for her to work at this stately mansion, because with pride she used to describe her position with “I was the chief parlour maid. I held the Keys”!!
He remembers hearing the story of how his dad, travelling with horses through the area, would stop at the homestead for water. And stopping too at the kitchen door he came to know the delightful Irish girl, who no doubt told him a tale or two, as she was wont to do.
His courting days came to an end at the High Alter of St. Stephens Cathedral early in 1894, when he took his lovely Irish lass for his bride. The wedding photos are all there, he sitting on the old wooden chair, she standing proudly beside him with her hand on his shoulder, ready for the next phase of their life.
They forged a life for themselves in this fertile country, and in January 1897 built a beautiful Queenslander on the land of their recently purchased property. It had all the trappings of a country home, with wide verandas around two sides of the house, large bedrooms, a big kitchen, a large lounge and a long hallway running up the entire length of the house. The house afforded stability and security for their young family of eight children. He was the seventh child born; his destiny was to inherit the farm when the time came.
His hands delved deeper into the box and felt the softness of ribbon, and on further inspection found they were the letters he had written to his lovely “brown-eyed girl”, many years ago.
His mind returns to his days while working building roads. The Second World War was raging at the time, and his only thoughts were of marrying his beautiful “brown-eyed girl”. It is August 1938, and at thirty-three years of age, he was trying to find work as a grader driver on the roads.
He pulls at the ribbon and the letters fall around him. His letters to his lovely “brown-eyed girl” were full of hope of things to come, but they both knew they had to save some money before they could settle down and raise a family of their own. He opened a letter dated 5th .January 1939.
“There is a good deal of work starting soon around Toowoomba and I hope to be in some of it. I will be very annoyed if I am not!!!!
I had a chat with the ganger and asked him how he liked married life, he said very seriously that it was lovely, it was beautiful and if he had known before, he would have been married long ago”.
As always it was hard to finish his letters to her as he missed her lovely smile and tender touch,
“I will have to close this scribble hoping to hear from you very soon again. With best love and kisses. PS The kisses you sent were alright but I would just love a genuine one from you just at the present moment”.
The next letter he opened was dated April 1940; he writes he was finding work by going through the local labour agent in the small towns.
“Well I don’t like the look of this place and I won’t like and I don’t think I ever will. I hate being away from you and if I get back again I don’t think I will come away again because I know I going to miss seeing you very much. I am thinking of you all the time, but I suppose I have got to work somewhere so if you can smile and bear it I can”.
I am feeling lonely now so darling write me a long letter very soon and tell me all about your dear little self, for I will want to know”.
He continues reading the letter, recalling the chap complaining about his wife.
“They have big tents here and two men camp in each. The other chap in this one is a bit funny. His wife must have left him and I have been regaled with his troubles before I was here two hours, but I do hope he does not tell me about it often”.
He picked up several letters all written in April 1940 and remembers the loneliness of life without his “brown-eyed” girl, and the trials and tribulations of men who were away from their wives for a long time.
“Well dearest I received your letter yesterday and I cannot tell you how pleased I was to get it.
This joker in my tent is as mad as can be, last night or I think about three this morning, a bloke pulled him out to go to the phone for a wire about his wife who has cleared away from him and when he got back he woke me to tell me about it. Gosh he is a battler and a few more of them are too. There a funny lot here, I don’t think I will be here very long somehow or if I do I will have something to carry me safely to “my Sweetheart” every weekend for I miss you very much and the weekend will be just misery without a kiss or two or three from you.
There was not much to do on the weekends and remembers one chap who had a radio to break the monotony of weekends in the tent.
The Roller driver in the next tent has a wireless set and runs a bit of a betting shop on the races. I tried to pick the double for the Weetman Cup for 30/- to 1/- and picked Wiseland and Harepo so I lost the 1/-. I could not help thinking yesterday of last Cup day when you and I were there and kept wishing I was there again with you. I have not forgotten Assager. Did you win anything this time, you prawn.
Well Brown Eyes, yes it was played on the wireless this morning and that is what you have to do till I come back, keep those brown eyes dry, darling, there are a hundred things a day remind me of you”.
There seems to be so many letters he sent to his lovely “brown-eyed” girl. He reads another and immediately feels the loneliness again as if it was yesterday. He remembers being apprehensive as to which way the war was going, and if he too would have to enlist.
“My darling brown-eyes, I received your very welcome letter on Friday and there is no need to tell you how pleased I was to hear from you nor need I tell you how sorry I have been that I had to stay in this wretched dump for three whole days doing nothing but I hope to see you next weekend or I will be very savage.
Never worry darling, I’ll be back to kiss your breath away just as soon as I get a chance so I am telling you be prepared.
The job here will be finished shortly so that will be all I want to see of this place but I suppose one should not complain considering everything as we do not know what could happen to us.
I am expecting to hear that this will be about the last of this class of work that will be going on for a while. I have heard that young men between 18 and 25 will not be employed now and in some places they have been put off so as to make them go to the war. I have done nothing but listen to war news and war talk for days now and I think I know it off by heart anyhow, I don’t think I’ll be joining up for a while yet”.
As he is reading one of his letters, it evokes memories of bad weather and thievery which seemed to always be a torment for the men living and working on the roads.
“My darling brown-eyes, I was in a frightful temper Friday for it rained and I got wet and to make matters worse somebody took my pint out of my lunch bag and I hadn’t any then so I went hostile on everything near me. So I got a new one for 1/3. I would not have the other, after anyone else had it. Then after that I got the blues Friday night, I felt so lonely I could of cried. It rained here nearly all day Saturday and most unpleasant as I did not get the washing dry but today was fine so it went on the line again, anyhow it is dry now and I hope I don’t have any more to do here.
I’ll be looking well for now, I get a pint of cow’s milk daily, I buy it from a farmer that brings it around and drink some before I go to bed, aren’t I good.
I did not win anything in the casket that I mentioned last letter. That dream was just a fraud. I don’t think I could win very much but I am trying again”.
His lips turn into a smile as he is now reading the letter telling his “brown-eyed” girl about his first car…the old Grandpa, bought in mid-June, 1941.
“Well Sweetheart I went to Jondaryan Sunday night, and I got the old car I told you about, I feel as if half the week is gone and been on the go that much my head in a whirl. I am writing this letter, brown-eyes under refrigeration conditions, so please excuse the writing”.
He was coming to the end of reading the letters, and he reads the last one he wrote in August 1941 before his marriage in September 1941 to his beautiful “brown-eyed girl”.
“My darling sweetheart, Well pet I bet your wild tonight with all this wind and oh it has been one terrible day to be sure. I don’t remember when the dust was so bad at times it was just one big cloud. It is a wonder poor little me was not blowed away. I think I swallowed half of Margaret Street today, big expense you know to the council, they have got to get some more streets now.
But that’s a mere nothing pet, the main thing is that two days have gone, only three more and I be off home to see you. I had a good trip home sweetheart, got her going at 11.30, old Grandpa running beautifully, and me well pleased with myself, I arrived at quarter past 6 and started work at 6.30, so I only had a light breakfast. I boiled the billy, washed, dressed and eat at the sometime.
I do not think I will be here a great deal longer, about another week after then I think might finish me. I will be glad too as it is too far away as I would hate to have to stay here a week-end. Lots of love and kisses for you, pet and I am still wild with you, your sweet prawn. I guess you and I will have a swell time when we are married.”
After they married, money was still scarce, and he reminisces about the time he grew flowers and sold them to make a living. Their first child was born in 1942, and the world was still in the grips of the Second World War. His memories return to the day they bought their cherished baby home from the hospital, she slept in a drawer with a pillow in it; this would suffice till they could afford such a necessary but simple item as a cot.
He looked down into the box and found a couple of the old fashioned religious tin pictures, slightly rusty now, which every good catholic home had on their mantelpiece, and a beautiful House Blessing. When he reads it again, he is transported back to those early days of his marriage. He is not sure who gave it to them, but it was there to remind them that they were truly blessed to have their “little piece of heaven” and to have each other. There was another framed picture with a poem, or he thinks maybe a prayer, called “Our Lady of this House”, always treasured by his “brown-eyed girl”.
He is now getting tired; it has been a very heartfelt trip down memory lane going through the Glory Box, seeing the mementoes of his life with his “brown-eyed girl”. He is sad now as he remembers the tragedy that struck them, as their first two born children died at a very early age.
Their little four year old girl caught the common cold, which turned into something more serious, and she passed away in July 1948. Their eldest child was just six years old, and had heart problems. She too passed away suddenly in October 1948. It is said she died of a broken heart, as she dearly missed her little sister.
One can only imagine how heartbroken they were with the passing of their little girls. He found another bundle of cards and letters, bound together with pink ribbon, these were mementoes of his little girls, a baby card given to them when one of the girls was born, showing a sweet little girl surrounded by flowers and two birthday cards, with little girls playing with bears and balls.
Also in the package were the sad memories, the cards from the undertakers showing the details of their death. A tear rolled down his face for the lost years they could have had with their little girls. Lastly there was the letter from the doctor telling them he thought his little girl was improving, only to then say that she passed away suddenly in the night. The doctor ended his letter – “Your only consolations is that her passing was so swift, that she did not suffer unduly; and also that she will now be reunited with her sister, where there is no pain or distress or suffering”. He tied the ribbon back around this little bundle, placing it carefully in the box.
His daughter found him later that day with the Glory Box beside his chair on the verandah. He looked contently asleep and as she went to him, she could see he had gone to join his beautiful “brown-eyed girl” and his two precious girls in heaven. His heart had been heavy lately, and he had looked so tired. His life had not been easy of late, especially in the last six months since his
“brown-eyed girl” had passed away.
She closed the Glory Box and sat beside him for a while, and knew one day she too would open the Glory Box to go through her parents’ mementoes, but not today, that would have to wait till she was a little stronger too, and able to cope with the loss of her beloved dad and mum.