SOMETIMES IT TAKES ONLY 60 SECONDS - SO SEIZE THE MOMENT…

My late brother Graham with a friend taken 2nd May, 1998...in front of the old "Gympie Rattler"**

A collage of photos of Graham taken throughout the years...Clockwise from upper left with Bernice during one of her visits to Mackay in the early 90s; Graham taken at North Mackay circa late 1967; Graham - the day of his trip on the "Rattler", 1998l and finally, Graham, me and his first born son, circa 1969.

Noosa Beach in front of Surf Club Circa 1970

View from present Noosa Heads Surf Lifesaving Club...circa 2014 - overlooking Laguna Bay

Six years ago - two days before 6^th June, which was to be the 10^th anniversary of the passing of my older brother Graham - I made a split-second, spontaneous decision.  The decision made on the morning of 4th June, 2008 turned out to be one of the best decision I’d made or contemplated making in a long time. It was probably the best decision I'd made in a long time.

Through life we’re faced with choices; some expected and wanted; others unexpected and unwanted.

On the morning of 4^th June, 2008 I hesitated only a moment before making the decision to open Pandora’s Box in the search for my half-brother. I’d always known I had a half-brother - somewhere. His existence hadn’t been hidden from me. It was never the main topic of conversation of any given day; but stored in my mind the knowledge of his being persisted.

Every now and again in the preceding years I’d conducted half-hearted searches without success. Of course, my earlier investigations were conducted before the introduction of the internet and the expediency it offers. Day-to-day life, as it has a habit of doing, would take control demanding priority, and I got on with whatever needed my attention. In the meantime I carefully packed away, within easy reach, my pith helmet and safari outfit in readiness for future hunts whenever the urge nudged.

When caught at the crossroad of choices it’s probably prudent to contemplate a while before jumping; or tiptoeing even. However, spontaneity so often proves its worthiness.

My parents separated and divorced when my brother Graham and I were still very young.  Actually, my mother and father separated before I made my entrance into this world.  

Graham and I were never got to know our father other than through stories told to us about him by our mother and our grandmother.  Both Mum and Nana never uttered a bad word against our father. They never tried to sway Graham or me against him. Nana, in particular when talking about him with us, blamed the times (the “war years” – Second World War) for the troubles the then young couple faced.  And from what I’ve learned through the years, both our mother, Elma, and our biological father, Joe Nicholson were headstrong young people, not prepared to give the other leeway, as it were. 

 (To clear up what might be a misunderstanding; I wasn’t named after “Leeway”….I was named after Vivien Leigh. My mother loved her as “Scarlett O’Hara” in “Gone with the Wind”. Thankfully, whoever completed my birth certificate misspelled “Leigh”…making it “Lee”.  Personally, I prefer the latter spelling; it’s brief, straight-forward and to the point."

Joe, our father and my mother's younger brother, our Uncle Dudley, were good mates.  Dudley and Joe joined the army at the same time. Together, they got up to harmless mischief as young blades have a tendency of doing; so we were told by Nana.  Nana was the teller of stories in our household as I've previously mentioned in other posts. Graham and I often urged her to spill the beans because we loved listening to her tales.

Being of curious mind (in a past life I tutored Sherlock Holmes. It was by my guidance he became the competent sleuth he was) when in my 20s I conducted a couple of successful searches for family members on my father’s side.  Two of his sisters, their families and a brother still lived in Rockhampton, the town of their birth.  Our father’s parent came to Australia from County Cork shortly after they married.  They settled in Rockhampton where they raised their six children. The Nicholson clan was Irish-Catholic. 

Graham and I, raised by our mother and grandmother were true-blue Protestants; Presbyterians. As young children we religiously attended our local and nearest Presbyterian/Scots Church every Sunday morning for “Sunday School”.   

Dressed in our Sunday best, Graham would race on ahead of me; he didn't like to be seen in public with his little sister.  That would be a blot on his image; he had to put up a good front to his mates!  I'd run behind him, trying to swallow my tears; panting and  pleading with him to slow down...to no avail.  Little sisters can be such pests!

Back in the Fifties there were two Presbyterian Churches in Gympie.  It was because, I imagine, many Scots settled in Gympie in the 1800s during its rich gold-mining days.

My maternal great-grandfather, Robert Hose – my Nana’s father- worked at the Scottish Mine at Monkfield, Gympie.  I wrote a story in my blog back on 2^nd September, 2012, titled “Little Treasures of Days Gone by – Discovered and Uncovered”. Robert Hose was killed in a tragic, unexpected accident on that day; he was only 50 years of age.  He wasn’t an underground miner; he always worked above ground, but on that fatal day he stood-in for a fellow who couldn’t attend work because of illness.

As time went on I honed my sleuthing skills. In the early Seventies when I was living in Toowong, Brisbane I succeeded in locating my father, Joe Nicholson; but from afar.  He and I spoke a couple of times by phone.  He was, at that stage, living in Sydney, New South Wales. Unfortunately, we never did get to meet face to face.

Through my contact with my father's sisters, my aunties, I had learned I had a half-brother. 

Later, in 1994, when I was living in Townsville for a brief time, I learned further that it was thought my half-brother, named Warren and my father had left Sydney. It was believed both were then living in the Tewantin area on the Sunshine Coast.  Tewantin is close by to Noosa Heads; and to Sunshine Beach where I’d lived from 1979 to early 1986.  I conducted the usual phone book searches etc., but found no clues; uncovered no trails. Life returned to normal; investigations and manhunts were put on hold.

In late April 1998 I returned to Gympie from North Queensland to live and work. The next four years I remained in Gympie, my old hometown before in April, 2002 I moved here to where I presently live in. (There must be something about April that gives me itchy feet…sometimes).

Frequently on a Sunday, my day off…Sundays-Mondays were my weekends (at times only Sunday) I’d take a trip to Noosa, Noosaville and Tewantin to savour the magnificent ambience, and to enjoy a leisurely lunch at a favourite restaurant of mine on the Noosa River at Noosaville; or perhaps visit another favourite spot on Hastings Street in Noosa.  Those areas have always been close to my heart; my feelings won’t change.  I’ve written often about my times spent there; and no doubt will continue doing so. Back in the very early Sixties, my brother Graham was a surf lifesaver at the Noosa Heads Surf Lifesaving Club. We spent every weekend at the coast.  He went his way; and I went mine; but he kept a sly eye on my movements and that of any prospective roving eyes of his lifesaver mates!  Many a time he warned them harshly -  "she's my sister...so hands off!"  Dammit!  And the warned heeded the warnings!

Moving forward to 4^th June, 2008…without a tentative thought I pushed my office chair up close to my desk and computer.

Obviously, with the anniversary of my older brother Graham’s death drawing near, subconsciously, and consciously, I was missing him. My emotions were coming at me from all angles.

Entering the Internet Highway I began my search for my half-brother, Warren.

Lo and behold! Almost immediately, without a map to guide me, I’d made the right turn; taken the correct route. No dead-ends or detours hindered my journey. 

I found Warren Nicholson…my half-brother!  

Within minutes we were talking on the phone.  

When he first answered his phone, I gently eased into my call, allowing him time to digest who I was.  With clarity, I explained who I was while at the same time giving him information that only I, his true half-sibling would know.  I didn’t want him hanging up on me, believing me to be an annoying, unknown, faceless caller ringing him from a suspect call centre in the Philippines or India; or Nigeria, even! 

Although in a state of shocked surprise, he was thrilled I’d found him.  We talked at some length when he then asked if he could ring me back later that day.  He needed time to digest what had just occurred.  Good to his word, he rang me that afternoon; and again we talked animatedly.

Since then Warren and I have kept in contact verbally at least once a week; and we’ve spent time together on occasions.

It’s as if we’ve known each other all our lives; we’re alike in so many ways, it’s incredible.  We don’t need a DNA test to prove we’re related; that we’re brother and sister.  There is no denying who and what we are.

And all those times I spent at Tewantin, Noosaville and Noosa when I was living back in Gympie before moving here to the mountain, I could have passed Warren or my father, Joe in the streets of Tewantin – because that is where Warren and his wife live.  Our father lived with them up until his death; approximately two months after I found Warren!  I’ll go into further detail about this in a future post

Along with finding my brother I acquired a whole new family; one which includes a wonderful sister-in-law, two lovely, unselfish nieces who are as beautiful on the inside as they are on the outside. We, too, are in regular contact. Between them and their partners they have three gorgeous little girls; each one is as bright as the shiniest sparkling button. I also gained another nephew and a grandnephew. (Some may say “grand”; others may say “great”; to solve the dilemma - I say it’s both grand and great)! 

Finding my brother and his family gave me a fresh outlook on life; a different perspective on things past, present and future. People, and items, lost for years can be located. It’s a matter of looking in the right places when going off on a search.

I took a leap of faith in making the decision to open my Pandora’s Box. Don’t blindly believe everything you read. Pandora’s Box (the “box” was actually a large jar) doesn’t always harbour evil. By opening the lid doesn’t necessarily mean it will be detrimental to your health; or the far-reaching consequences - dire.

Another example, as the story goes, the Garden of Eden’s forbidden fruit included not only the apple, but pomegranate, fig, carob, citron, pear, quince, and more; they’re all very good for us. 

On 6^th June, 1998 I lost my brother Graham.  He passed away from a vicious throat cancer at the age of 56…far too young. Graham had never smoked a single or part thereof cigarette in his whole life. He hated cigarette-smoking.  Constantly he berated me for being a smoker.  Mum and I were the smokers in our family.  I gave up, cold turkey, a few years ago.

Graham’s passing left a huge gap in my life.  He and I didn’t always get on. We had “our moments”; many of them.  There were times we didn’t talk because of one reason or the other. He could be pig-headed; cantankerous; one-eyed; he was set in his ways and beliefs – it was “his way or the highway”: and he could be damned right annoying.  There were times I hated him; but I always loved him.

He and I also enjoyed good times together. Our senses of humour were similar. He loved to tease me; he did it well, having had years of practice from when we were little kids!.  He knew he could always get a “bite” from me; take a rise out of me.  He knew which buttons to push.  He enjoyed the game.

We laughed at things others wouldn’t understand; or had a chance in Hades of seeing the humour.  Often, simultaneously we’d see the funny side of something so inconspicuous; so ridiculous.  Overcome with fits of laughter, we’d begin tossing mumbled asides back and forth between us.

Graham thought the world of me, this I know and knew; but he had difficulty in expressing his emotions; his inner feelings.  He was my “big brother”; and big brothers seem to believe it is their role (and right) to protect their “little sisters”…particularly those who don’t have a father.  Many times, even when he was a little boy, Graham took on the burden of being “Lord Protector” of Nana, Mum and me.  He felt it was his role to do so; it wasn’t. No child should bear that burden; or believe he should do so.

He always told me when he died he didn’t want any hymns played.  He asked that I play John Denver’s “Annie’s Song”.  I fulfilled my promise to him.

One of the best times, if not the best, Graham and I shared was the night we went to see John Denver live in concert at Townsville’s Entertainment Centre – 21^st November 1994. Graham adored Denver – his words and music.  Graham took the Monday and Tuesday off from work, making it a long, long weekend.  He drove north to Townsville from Mackay so we could attend the concert together.  The evening of Monday 21^st November, 1994 was magical.  Graham and I even got to meet and talk with John Denver; to shake his hand.  

After we arrived back home Graham and I talked long into the wee small hours. He was perched on a kitchen stool, and at times lent against the fridge; I sat on the kitchen bench with my feet dangling down.  We sipped on a drink or two…peace and tranquility reigned.  Denver gave us that special time; it was his gift to my brother and me. I will never forget that night.   It was meant to happen, I believe.

I miss Graham still, of course…and come Friday, 6^th June….I’ll have a few words with him.  It won’t surprise him, though…often I have a few words with him...most days I've something or other to tell him....

It is a shame my two brothers never met…..



*** "The Gympie Rattler"...the restored old steam train takes tourists out through the Mary Valley...a rich, lush dairy-farming and agricultural area outside of Gympie.  Graham's first job after leaving school at the young age of 14 years was with the railway department. While on the job he often went out through the Mary Valley, to the little country villages along the way...chugging along in the old steam engines.  His friend Bernice, pictured with him above, took him out that day...just a few weeks before his death. For Graham it was a much longed-for trip down memory lane... one he'd wanted to do for many years.  I was so appreciate of Bernice's kind gesture...that Bernice did that for him.