Mary's Page

Mary McKenzie White (nee Morton) 1927-2012

In 1927, in the rectory of a church in a little town in southern NSW called Binda, the second daughter of a clergyman and a teacher was born. It was the day of the local flower show and the little girl’s mother had not wanted to complicate things by going off to hospital on such a significant occasion in the town.

That little girl was our mother Mary Mackenzie Morton. She spent her early years following the various church postings of her father Hugh. These were lean years, in the Depression, and her father would often be paid for his services in produce such as pumpkins, rather than in cash. When she was just 9, her father died from an accident, and being technically between postings, no-one in the church would take responsibility for the financial welfare of the widowed Annie and the 4 children, (Annette, Mary, Hugh and little Marion). The hard times continued and they lived on the charity of relatives until their mother went back to teaching.

Annie had inherited a rural property in Victoria, and the sale of the property allowed enough leeway to borrow money for a house in Bronte. Mary went to St Gabriels school for girls in Waverley, but she didn’t take to school and refused to go back after she turned 15. She wanted to be a nurse but was not yet old enough. “I want to work in a shop,” she told her mother, to which Annie replied “No daughter of mine is going to work in ‘trade’,” and she was sent to business college. It was still in the midst of World War 2 and after graduation she worked in the manpower section of the Department of Agriculture.

By 1946 the war had ended and she was old enough to start nursing, at Royal Prince Alfred Hospital in Camperdown. She loved the relative freedom of the Nurses’ home and saved her pennies to go out once a week for a Pimms and lemonade. In 1951 whilst on a holiday at Jenolan caves, she met Jack – the fact that he was recovering from meningitis at the time obviously didn’t faze the now experienced nurse. They were married in 1952.

David Remembers

It’s enlightening to listen to what other people say about someone. Here’s what people have said to me lately:
• “Your mum is a real lady”
• “She’s a real fighter”
• “I remember your well-spoken mother”
• “I’ve learnt a lot from your mum”
• “I would never have passed the school certificate except for your mum, when she let me come round and do my homework at your place every afternoon”

I have come to understand two important things about mum and what she represents.

The first is mum as the anchor point of the family, like the pin in the middle of a compass around which the needle swings. The central reference point for all significant family schemes, decisions, outcomes, even cock-ups. This worked both ways for us – we would either fall into step with it all, dad included, or, at least in my case, I would find in her plans something specifically to rebel against. The effect was the same – it started with mum.

The second is mum as the avatar of family. We always knew as we grew up that there was a rich fabric of family history, and that we hadn’t just sprung up from nowhere some time in the 1950s. The sense of family background reaching back to the 1830s in Australia was palpable, and the names sprinkled around the family attest to it – David Rowan, Jane Rowan, Timothy and Thomas and Michael and Hamish Rowan, Brooke-Mackenzie. We always knew where we came from, and it wasn’t bloody convicts either.

I’ve always known that I learned some important and useful things from mum, like how to make white sauce, how to take up my own pants, and how to iron a shirt. But the important lessons, and the legacy she leaves, are clearer to me now:

There’s an old-fashioned word called steadfastness – the quality of sticking to things and to people , and to principles and beliefs, no matter what the adversities or trials. Of hanging on to the important things, and of being available no matter what the personal cost. Maybe it’s from being a child of the Depression, or having the example of a mother who had to battle through her own privations raising four kids alone. Mum had her own tight financial times as a mother, and there was a lot of second-hand stuff around our house. But she just kept getting on with it, in the best way she could.

There’s another slightly out-of-date quality called loyalty, of which mum had an overdose. It would be embarrassing, when mum would talk about you in front of other people and give you all kinds of praise and brag about your achievements (and overlook your foibles). But you knew she was proud of you. She cared for an ageing mother-in-law for decades, and dealt with an increasingly diminished husband with tenderness, and without rancor over the plans they had which wouldn’t be fulfilled.

The most powerful quality, though, was unconditional love. I’ve screwed up plenty in my life, and at many stages not been the good son she deserved. Various of us have done things that could have been met either with disappointment and blame, or with patience and love. She chose the latter. It didn’t stop with her children – there is more than one grandchild or nephew or niece who received nothing but acceptance and support, no matter what might have been going on for them in turbulent times in their lives.

For what she gave us, for what she taught us, we are thankful.

Derek Remembers

Mum was in some things very flexible, but in others remarkably rigid. Dad was very typically ADD and he survived with a common adult-ADD strategy of having lists. Each weekend he would have a list of jobs to do. If mum asked him to do something he would say "just add it to the list". Mum would insist she shouldn't have to because she had told him, not knowing that the condition even existed. It was a pattern that was played out many weekends to my amusement, but there wasn't anything a kid could likely say to get mum to write on the list!

Mum was very supportive of things her children wanted to do, but as we grew up it was obvious she had 4 very individual children, and she treated each one in such a way that they could become their own person.

For more than 5 years she drove the 3 boys every Saturday to judo. She drove Janice to guitar lessons where her love of music began. When I came home from school (in 1st form) and said to mum "I can join the school band, they have a trombone and a tuba", she didn't flinch and said trombone would be ok. After that she would patiently and politely listen to songs I played as I learnt and never once complained about the racket I am sure it was.

Mum was also very accepting of our wide range of friends. She would cheerily greet them and feed them at the drop of a hat.

One phase mum went through was the making of stretch knit clothes. She was frugal in things like that and it was an outlet for her creative side. For years instead of giving her young grandchildren chocolate eggs at Easter she would give them a tracksuit she had made especially for them.

In their retirement mum and dad were very involved in church life – this was very important to mum. Dad was involved on parish council, including the role of church treasurer, and they hosted bible study at their house where great relationships were built. Mum was also part of the ladies guild and I know they will miss her greatly.

Cont...

Their plans to build a house on a block of land they had bought in Caringbah were scuppered when Jack’s father died, and instead they moved in with his mother in Sans Souci, where they lived for the next 40 odd years. They had 3 sons, David, Peter and Derek, over the next 4 years, and then a daughter Janice, a surprise packet, six years later.

In those days mothers stayed at home, but eventually Mary got herself into running a little business from home, selling wall and floor tiles out of the garage. In 1967 she obtained a job as an assistant at the Sans Souci Pre-School Kindergarten, on the strength of her nursing qualifications. She worked in the kindergarten for the next 20 odd years. There was a whole generation of kids in the local area for whom Mrs White was a fixture in their life. We couldn't go shopping with her to the local supermarket without running into one or more mum giving an update of their life at big school.

Mary and Jack built a holiday home in Sussex Inlet and the family spent wonderful holidays over the years in what Mum called her “paradise”. The extended family still find it a haven, 42, years on.

Maintaining the big block of land and the aging house in Sans Souci became too much for dad, and his mother, Flo, was getting beyond living in the flat attached to the house. They moved to a town house in Hurstville where Mary continued to look after Nanna.

Mary had always been handy with crafts. Lapidary and jewellery making, oil painting, wood turning, screen printing, fabric painting, wool spinning and the dreaded knitting machine were all short but enthusiastic phases but she eventually settled on her great love: quilting and embroidery.

We all had evidence of this passion with embroidered Christmas decorations, gorgeous quilts, quilted bags and wedding cushions. Mary was always an avid reader and usually had her head in a detective novel… the gorier the better! Eventually, after Nanna died and Jack’s health continued to fail, they moved to Beauty Point Retirement Village. She made great friends there such as our ‘Saint’ Val, Iris and many others who gave her wonderful friendship and support. She continued to care for Jack almost to the end of his life, and after he died she had health complications of her own. She spent the last year or so in and out of hospital, and passed away peacefully in St George Hospital with her daughter and one of her sons by her side.

Peter Remembers

Janice Remembers

Mum was a fierce advocate for her children’s academic development. If ever we asked a question we were promptly sent to the Encyclopaedia Britannica in the hallway and had to find and read out the answer. Likewise if we asked the meaning of a word we were sent off to find the dictionary. We were well versed in the childrens classics. Mum was most offended when the principal of David’s infants school accused her of pushing her children too hard. David had informed her that his father was a man of “infinite resource and sagacity”. What Mum did was back us absolutely. We rose, without question, to her expectations and she gave whatever we needed – love, encouragement or child minding - to allow each of us to reach our potential.

She could also be just a little bit scary. Our mother never needed the help of a wooden spoon and we were never threatened with “wait ‘til your father gets home”. She had a big heart, but also had a hand the size of a man’s - it was just not worth getting on the wrong end if it. Janice recalls running around the kitchen table crying “but I haven’t got a bottom!”

Whilst Mum was talented at many things, driving wasn’t one of them. Mum’s car had less than 20,000km on it but it looked like it had been used as a stunt car. I can recall 4 accidents she had in her own street! She was heard to complain bitterly about Dad screaming as they were approaching a brick wall head-on. I remember when my son Hamish had just started driving and was going out in the wet I called after him “Drive like a Grandma….” His Dad called after him “Just not like your Grandma!”

She was either Mummy White or Aunty Mary to everybody. My oldest friend Janelle could get away with cleaning out our entire refrigerator (and I don’t mean in a housekeeping sense). Mum would forgive all as long as someone would bring her a cup of tea.

My cousin Sandy from Deniliquin lived with Mum and Dad for 3 years. He wrote to me the other day recalling “she let me get away with murder – I can’t help smiling to myself when I think of the secrets we had between us.”

In Mum’s last days I would find my friend Liz in the hospital room …. She would stop in early on her way to work to make sure Mum’s mouth and eyes were clean. She was very loved and will be so missed.