My uncle Roger’s 40th birthday party was held at his brother, my uncle Malcolm’s rustic guesthouse on the Gippsland lakes forty years ago this month. I was eleven and dressed up as little miss Muffet, with my hair curled in strips of rags made out of shredded old sheets that were twisted around strands of my hair. I remember the preparations and the excitement of all of the arrivals by boat, and having my grandparents, cousins, my immediate family and mum’s cousins and their partners, as well as Roger’s friends all around. Most of the guests congregated in the ballroom, which had an open fireplace, but people spilled out of the separate kitchen and dining area and outside as well.
This time for his 80th, the party was at Roger’s house opposite the yacht club overlooking the waterfront, and guests were greeted with a four piece jazz band with one of his old friends, Tom, performing on sax and clarinet. I met Tom in Bejing when I spent two weeks there when I was 16. (Tom met me at the airport (neither of us had met before) and Roger joined a couple of days later). Passing the jazz band, guests started upstairs at the living area and balcony overlooking the water, some spilling downstairs and below the huge magnolia tree in the back courtyard.
Roger’s party included many of the same people, with some additions and some no longer with us too. I don’t remember what we ate forty years ago, but for Roger’s 80th he made most of the food and drink for afternoon tea and dinner: scones with jam and cream; a fruity punch; a huge pot of chicken curry with basmati rice and a beef curry that was surplus to requirements. Roger’s partner Kayla made a gluten-free curry and an old friend made the huge fruit cake decorated with edible photos of Roger, complete with thick white icing. Maggie brought a carrot cake from her road stop at Euroa.
I don’t find large parties like that to be my favourite environment, but on the other hand it was good to see some familiar faces that I usually only catch up with at such parties and funerals. This time I spent time with Roger’s second cousin (her father was my grandfather’s cousin), as smiley and kind as she always is. She introduced me to her daughter who was working there. Lizzie is around my age and most recently worked in administration, but twenty five years ago she was a waiter to the Queen for afternoon tea. I liked her so much that I shared my phone number and encouraged her to visit next time she’s nearby. My cousin Jessie was there with two of her girls, and Rhea and Lara promptly asked if they could all go to the mall a couple of blocks away, where they lost no time in buying some stylish tops. Duncan and little Felix came, but Becky stayed away with Hugo as she was feeling unwell, as was Steve. Maggie took Felix to pick some flowers in Roger’s front garden and Peter had some phonecalls with him on the old bakelite telephone beside the grand piano in the living room up the sweeping staircase.
Roger’s sailing friend (also called Roger) gave a speech paying tribute to Roger’s generosity to us all, and also endowing uncle Roger with a homemade medal made of a beer bottle top with the word ‘old’ printed on it, surrounded by a circle fixed on a ribbon, with the words ‘Over Bloody Eighty.’ Roger thanked everyone for coming, and expressed gratitude for his good life, which he said was due to his parents and the childhood he had. Having been to Sea Lake last year, I can see why. It would have replicated the strong sense of love and community found at his house last week, with all four grandparents a stone’s throw away, and most places (school, shops, friend’s farm, church) an easy walking distance.
Roger also noted that the party was actually a book launch as well, launching an advance copy of his book of short stories from his life. I look forward to reading about his childhood; perhaps his reflections of our trip to China all those years ago; and of the trip in which he met me in St Petersburgh and we took the night train with two of his English friends to Moscow. I remember meeting him at the airport, where his luggage had been delayed by several days. He took a sandwich from his pocket made by my grandmother in Australia the previous day and ate it in the minus ten degree cold, awaiting our bus. It was too difficult to find the right change and push past the standing passengers to the front to pay, I remember, but I wasn’t bothered as the fine was only AUS$5. Later in that trip Roger was robbed while taking a sleigh ride near a forest (it sounds incredible, I am not sure where I was). We both returned to Australia feeling grateful for the country we were born in. It’s funny to think that Roger would have only been 45 when we were in China and 48 in Russia – both younger than I am now.
Roger’s friend Roger is right, he has been a very generous and kind relative and friend to so many of us. He paid for half of the piano I still play in my own living area three time a week. He still helps family members when they need it, and still gives generously at Christmas and remembers Maggie and my birthday. His energy, curiosity, work ethic, enthusiasm and support continue to touch all of our lives.
Leave a Reply