The attraction of Maryhill

I was walking my dog around the streets of Maryhill tonight, the suburb in which I live, and it occurred to me just how tied to this suburb my family has been. I mean, my extended family: my grandparents and my mother, her brothers and sisters and their children.
I don't know enough about my great-grandparents places of abode to include them, so I'll start with my grandparents on my mother's side (my father's family lived in the UK all their lives).
My grandparents bought their first house in Elgin Rd, about five minutes' walk away from where I now live. At some point early in their marriage they moved to a second house, in Stanley St, also about five minutes away from where I live. They stayed there until they died.
Meanwhile, my mother, who was brought up in the Stanley St house, went to Australia for a few years, married, had me (her only child), separated from her husband and came back...to Stanley St, the house where my grandparents and two uncles lived, and where I was then brought up.
I'm trying to keep this simple, but I can see someone saying it's really complicated....hopefully it won't be.
My mother stayed on in Stanley St until she was 68. By this time, of course, I'd been away from there for a long time. I'd left that house in the mid-sixties (though I'd already been living briefly in a couple of other New Zealand cities). I went to England for six years, met my wife, and we came back here (supposedly for a couple of years, but ultimately, as children arrived, we stayed here).
We came back to Stanley St for a few months, and then got a flat in Maitland St - which is not in Maryhill. But then the landlord said we had to move. He was dividing the flat in two, which was a pity, as it had a lovely large room downstairs.
We began to rent a new place, not in Maryhill, but in the bigger suburb of Mornington that is alongside Maryhill. It was still less than ten minutes' walk to Stanley St. And then, after two and a half years, we moved...to Maryhill. In fact almost on the corner of Maryhill Terrace. Our house was, and of course still is, in Glenpark Avenue.
Glenpark Avenue is about five minutes' walk from Stanley St. In fact the cable car used to stop outside our door in Glenpark Ave, and I fell off it once when I was a child because I was in a rush to disembark.
In due course the Stanley St house, which was deteriorating, was sold, and my mother moved into a newly-built second storey on our house. She was now about five minutes away from both the two homes she'd lived in.
When I was child, one of my uncles and his family lived in Crosby St, about three minutes' walk away from our current house. One of my other uncles and his family lived about two minutes from Stanley St for a time. A third uncle, after starting off in Kaikorai Valley Rd - on the land, incidentally, where my great-grandfather once had a farm (so I'm told) - moved to a another house...in Maryhill Terrace, two or three minutes' walk away from where I now live. This uncle, after his children grew up, moved with my aunt to another house, about two minutes' walk from...Stanley St.
But while he was in Maryhill Terrace, the uncle who'd been in Crosby St, moved next door to him. These were all maternal uncles; my maternal aunts were a bit more adventurous, one winding up in Mosgiel, less than fifteen minutes' drive away, another went to the Wellington area, and a third, the eldest, after moving around various places in the North Island, settled in Wellington city.
What about my cousins? Around twelve of them (out of twenty-five) grew up in Maryhill, or on the fringe of Mornington. One still lives up the road in Benhar St, less than five minutes' walk away, next to the school I attended as a small child. One of her sisters, for a time, was in a house further down the hill, but still in Maryhill.
I think that's the sum of all those who've lived here.
What was the attraction? Maryhill is a lovely area, with wonderful views of the sea and the harbour, and quite a few hills, varying from moderate to steep. It's well-established, and there are some houses that go way back (ours is getting on for a hundred years old) and some streets that go way back to the origins of the suburb - one is like a terrace on the side of a hill, and narrow.
I don't know why my family was so attracted to this area, but they were, and in considerable numbers....

My Memories of Mum

The following is a tribute to Monica Stokes from her daughter, Mary (Fraher). It was read at the funeral by Mary's daughter, Deborah.

One of my earliest childhood memories is sitting with Mum while she read me a book about an adopted baby. I think the book was called Chosen Baby and it was a story about Mr and Mrs Brown who had chosen a special baby. I can still vividly see in my mind the pictures in this book and how proud and special I felt to be a ‘chosen’ baby.

I can’t remember how old I was when Mum gave me her autograph book. In the front cover she had written:

Not flesh of my flesh
Nor bone of my bone
But still miraculously my own
Never forget for a single minute
You didn’t grow under my heart
But in it.

I have never thought of Mum as anything else but Mum. She was not my adopted mother. She was Mum. I never felt anything other than flesh of her flesh, blood of her blood.

Mum provided us all with a warm and happy home. She was always there when I got home from school. Friends were always made to feel welcome and there was always plenty of food to be shared around. In fact I’m quite sure that a lot of friends just showed up for the home baking, which never seemed to run out.

Mum was always willing to help out others where ever and when ever there was a need. It wasn’t at all unusual for us to have extra kids staying. She helped out when other mums needed a break, or were unwell, or were having more babies. We didn’t have a large home but there was always room for one or two more.

Mum loved going on our annual two-week holiday, especially to a small crib at Millers Flat. The little Morris 8 would be loaded up to the gunnels, Paul and I sitting on a pile of bedding so high that our heads almost touched the roof. Mum just loved those holidays at Millers Flat – the sunshine, the fresh air, the daily trips to the swimming pool, the little creek where we spent a lot of time, the hammock, the safe hanging in the willow tree, the rainwater tank which supplied us with water for cooking, washing and cleaning teeth. They were great holidays. Not even the long drop detracted from those holidays. We went to different places from time to time, but Millers Flat was always Mum’s favourite place.

For as long as I can remember Mum was involved in church and Parish activities. For many years she was an active member of the Women’s League. She would bake, bake and bake some more for school fetes. The Catholic Church was very special to her. She wasn’t simply a Catholic. She lived her faith day in and day out and was a great example to everyone who she came in touch with.

She was a people person. She loved talking to people and could while away the hours quite happily chatting to friends and family. When Aunty Flo came to stay with us I’m sure she would be creeping into bed not long before us kids were up and about. The two of them would sit in the kitchen and talk the night away. I also have very fond memories of Mum and her good friend Kathryn Waddell together. There was always so much laughter when those two got together.

Mum, you were the best mother a child could wish for. You were the best wife a husband could wish for. Rest in peace.