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Alice Hunt’s Story

Great-Nana’s90th

Birthday at the Beach

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Manuia Books

Alice Hunt

Palmerston North

email: alice@manuia.org.nz

Book website: www.manuia.org.nz

December 2015

This Story is for all my Family

so that they may recall a Very Special Occasion

Five children with five partnersTwelve grandchildren with seven partners

Fourteen great-grandchildren and one more born in March 2015.

This adds up to forty-four people who celebrated the matriarch’s birthday.

XC DV

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Great-Nana’s90th

Birthday at the Beach

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reat-nana looked

at her big family,

gathered to

celebrate her

90th birthday. They were all

happy, enjoying the

occasion, and sharing a

special time together.

Great-nana thought of all

the planning for this event.

The operation was given a

code-name -

G

First it was just an idea - a long weekend at

Paekakariki Beach, just north of Wellington.

This would be much better than a party or

dinner, as there would be time for the younger

children to get to know each other, and for the

older cousins to rekindle their friendships.

When they were young they met together very

often, but now they were grown up, many of

them married and with children of their own.

They had scattered throughout New Zealand,

and travelled overseas at times.

The real birthday was on 13 January 2015, so it

was decided that the weekend of 17-18-19

might suit everyone. When the 13th arrived,

there were cards, flowers, visitors, phone calls,

emails and Facebook messages, and

everyone rejoiced. Reaching ninety

years was something to celebrate.

XC DV Meaning: Ninety,

Deo Volente (God

Willing)

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A big surprise was a message from Kyle in

London who had recorded greetings for his Nana

with the three singers of Sol3 Mio presenting

Happy Birthday, Dear Alice.

So heart-warming, reminding the family of their

ancestral home, Samoa.

“It will be like a short beach holiday, and my children

can do all the planning and catering, while I just sit

back and watch over it all,” said Great-nana.

.........Dear Alice.........

ʻHappy Birthday.........

.......Happy Birthday to youʼ

Three large beach houses

had been booked for the

special weekend, and

several cabins at the

Paekakariki Holiday Park.

There was much emailing

to everyone, to make sure

they would be there.

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The weekend arrived, and Great-nana and Des were

taken by car from their home in Palmerston North,

down the coast to Paekakariki Beach, turning off the

main highway, crossing the railway lines, and then a

short drive to the house. This was a big house set on a

hill, facing the beach front, and looking out towards

Kapiti Island.

From the house there was a path down to the beach

where all sorts of interesting things were waiting for

the children to investigate. A small creek was finding

its way into the sea, cutting a riverbed into the sand.

Just the place for little

children to play.

The families began to

arrive, and were shown to

their homes for the

weekend. A number of

families went to the

Paekakariki Holiday Park,

further up the beach. They

had cabins to sleep in, and

a playground for the

children.

Nana and Des shared

a house with Verena,

Dave and family,

where they could

rest from the busy

activities in the

house where

everyone assembled

during the day.

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Fun on the beach.

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Busy People

Back in the big house,

Great-nana said she felt like

a Queen Bee, sitting in state

with her big family milling

around. All were intent on

their tasks in the kitchen, or

preparing the barbecues,

checking on plans for the

weekend, and all the while

looking after the little

children, playing games

with them, and supervising

visits to the beach. At the

same time they were

catching up on the news

and stories everyone had to

relate. Laughter was

echoing around Queen Bee,

and she was looked after so

lovingly by all.

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On Saturday more families arrived, and some of Great-

nana’s friends and relations came to visit. There was time

to talk to them all, and share memories. The weather was

fine, so the children played on the beach, trying to dam up

the little creek with a big driftwood log. Some of the Dads

helped and seemed to enjoy the fun as much as the

children.

A big pond formed,

then the waters

escaped, and

everyone had to get

busy again. It was

hard trying to tame

the creek and the sea

tides. The water

always won.

Watching all this activity, Great-nana and Des thought

about the times when they were young. She and Des were

neighbours in Palmerston North, and with Viv (Des’s twin)

they were a happy threesome. Holidays were almost

always at nearby beaches. At Foxton Beach tents were set

up in the campground under the big pine trees, near the

Manawatu River which flowed into the sea. It was a short

walk to the ocean beach. Sometimes the families stayed

with other relations and friends in beach houses. One

holiday they remembered was at Otaki Beach, and another

at Moanaroa Beach, across the Rangitikei River from

Tangimoana.

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The above photo was taken at Otaki Beach, with the Botcher family who were

friends of the OʼKeefes. Back: Florence Fleck, Mrs Botcher

Middle: Molly OʼKeefe, Botcher childrenFront: Botcher boy, Viv, Alice and Des

The three photos above were taken at Moanaroa

Alice, Edie Oliver, Bill Lennon, Viv

Des, Edie Oliver, Bill Lennon, Viv and Alice

Tent, camping equipment and car, set up on back lawn at home,when a family visited.

Viv and Des

Then the next generation enjoyed

holidays, often at Lake Taupo

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Then the next generation enjoyed holidays, often at

Lake Taupo

And the O’Keefes went to Ohope Beach. Des’s sons John and Peter,

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Saturday and

Sunday passed with

more friends and

relations calling in.

The sun shone, and

the beach was very

popular, as well as

games in the house.

Sister-in-law Lois Hunt and Ian

With cousin Isobel

Munro and

daughter Jane

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There was plenty of food to

eat, and many treats were set

out on the table.

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The playground at the Holiday Park

was a safe place for the little ones,

with the bigger children supervising.

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Carol and Alastair Woodfield visited

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Francisca came with Rob for a visit# # Vaughan, Pam and boys arrived

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ONDAY was the special day. More family arrived, Kyle and Francesca from London, the OʼKeefes

from Whitby (Liz, Pete, Jessie, Josh) and Australia (John, Adrienne, Claire, Matthew), Vicki, David and Mitchell Hopping who brought Viv, cousins Isobel, Jane, Sarah, Lenora, Opal, and Jacqui. Such a happy gathering.After lunch the entertainment began. The family had hastily practised

some songs accompanied by ukuleles and guitars. What a lot of hidden talent, but a lot of laughter when the singing wavered. Andrea had prepared an action song which included family names in alphabetic order, and when they all tried to sing Tofa mai feleni Great-nana did not know whether to laugh or cry. They were not really familiar with the old Samoan song, but came together with a fine ending. It was a song she had learned when she was very young from her mother, Florence.

Karlo read the poem she had composed at Great-nanaʼs request - In the Beginning was the Word - which echoed her thoughts about her long life.

Then Kyle took Great-nana into an adjoining room where Francesca was to sing for her, as for such a long time Great-nana had wanted to hear her voice. Francesca was shy to perform before all the family, She sang the Lied Du bist die Ruh by Franz Schubert.

It sounded so

beautiful, Great-nana

was overwhelmed.

Suddenly great

applause was heard,

as the whole

company in the next

room had been

listening intently too.

M

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Now it was time for the traditional candle-lighting, singing of Happy Birthday, cake-cutting and a few brief speeches.

Royce had made two big cakes.

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The Paparazzi in action in a haze of smoke

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In the beginning

was the word

a breath

given sound

an arch of throat

a musical note

a noise

moving its way

into meaning

an intention fluted up from the heart

through the windpipe

throated into utterance

the relief of release.

In the beginning

was the word

a vibration, a hum,

a whistle that flew like a bird

out of the mouth of a God

like a lyrical hiss from a volcano

that landed, rested, nested,

lava reaching the ear of the universe

interrupting the heavy hushed tones of void

reverberating its way

into not-yet-galaxy

a meteor of sound

exploded

into stars, gasses, echo

vibration, frequency,

spinning bits of broken planets

gravity heaving it all in,

gathered with magnetic hands.

The soft, seductive words were

“Let there be light”

and so it was,

stellar and solar.

In the beginning

was the word

there was no return

to the paradise

of the silent wide eyed innocence of fish

of the synchrony of animal gesturing

the beating of chest of the ape

once the upright

word was uttered

two legged mother sounds

were muttered

to comfort the cry of newborns

communicating in primal scream

once, mum, mum, mum

became meaning

and da, da, dad meant ‘him’

and we recognised

the warm hitherto of come

and the ambiguous directive of go

the multiflora ways of saying hello

the farewell of goodbye

fragrant and painful in any language

A 90th

Birthday Poem - for Alice Hunt

Karlo Mila read her poem to the family gathered

to celebrate this special birthday, January 2015.

This poem is dedicated to and inspired by my Nana, who asked me (on her 90th birthday) to think about the words "In the beginning was the word" (John 1:1) intrigued by the fact that as humans, we are distinguished from all other species by our use of the spoken language.

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then began

the business of naming,

knowing, explaining,

relating, communicating, creating

And then in-between us

was the word

like birds flying out of our mouths

reaching, resting,

holding each other there,

gently, nesting,

and we became such small gods

creating our world around us

giving meaning, tone, shape, nuance, name

following the chain letters

of narrative

it was not long before we found ourselves in story

twisting plots transforming uncertainty

into moralised, anticipated endings

mythology, poetry, fairy tale, legend,

soap opera, drama, reality tv

showing us, teaching us how to be

Then within us

was the word

the bounce of heartbeat

the red-flushed rush of blush

structured into already formed sentences

framing raw emotion

into the shape of words

the repetitive rhythm of cliché

the over-uttered of proverbial

the ever-watchful eye of archetype

the already ingrained of arc, climax, anti-climax

the expected restoration of resolution.

In the beginning

was the word

we inherit the earth

already described, designated

mediated, moulded

meditated upon,

already forged into

the iron type-set of letters

weighed, measured

into organised sounds

uttered by others

for centuries

well worn words

providing a thin skin

over everything

attempting

to fashion the universe

attempting to enunciate

infinity itself

within a limited, finite,

human arrangement,

of sentence.

In the beginning

was the word

and

the

word

was

God.

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What does it take?(To Alice, with love, from Warren)

What does it take?, I ask myself, to live for ninety years

To have loved and laughed and sighed and cried so many tears

To have raised a beau?ful family and coped with all their fears

And to have lent support and comfort to those in their later years

From whence comes?, I ask myself, this deep compassion for all others

Not enough it seems to limit yourself to those that call you “Mother”

Even ?me maintaining wider family links is never too much bother

And yet you s?ll find ?me for community work of one sort or another

How did you adapt?, I ask myself, with ninety years of change in all your life

From milking cows and feeding pigs and all the du?es of a farmer's wife

To absorbing the flood of latest technology to publish and collate and write

And to document this boom in babies (which takes a computer all right!)

How lucky I am, I have to think, to have shared in this family group

And bring my children up to share the influence of so much good

To delight in occasional reunions which we'd have more of if we could 

To mourn together when ?mes are sad as a suppor?ve family should

And what does all it take?: I have to think, a special person such as you.

There was another poem which Warren

Hunt produced some time later.

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FAMILY PHOTOGRAPHS

Mother with Royce, Lynda.

Vaughan, Verena and Gillian

1964

Viv, Des, and Alice,

2015 and 1930

Mother with Royce, Lynda.

Vaughan, Verena and Gillian

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ROYCES FAMILY: Owen, Royce with Nina, Andrea, Jeremy Askin, Mark Morgan, Cecily, Fraser

Front: Isla, Aria, Brielle

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VERENAʼS FAMILY:Verena, Mariam, Xavier, Dave Haynes, Sarah, Mike Gawith.

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GILLIANʼS FAMILY:Back: Francesca, Kyle, Paul Roux de Buisson, Lochlan, Dugan.

Front: Natsume, Tomoko with Masaki, Kazuki, Gillian, Leena, Amy with George.

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LYNDA’S FAMILY: Isaac, Lynda, Karlo, Karlos, Peter Rawlins, Tony Shields, Alice, Nikolas

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VAUGHANʼS FAMILY:Vaughan, Jeremy, Pam, Oliver

Taylor cousins - Lenora Nysse, Opal

Crossley and Jacqui.

Alice with Munro cousins, Isobel (seated),

Jane and Sarah

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THE OʼKEEFES:Back: Josh and Jessie Beyer, Pete and Liz, Claire, Adrienne, Matthew

Front: Viv, Des, Alice, John

With Vicki, David and Mitchell Hopping

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Nana with Grandchildren

And with Great-Grandchildren (and Amy)

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The Visitors Book

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And so the weekend of celebration

came to an end. It was time for

everyone to go home.

This had been an opportunity to renew

family connections, to remember our

past, and to look forward to the future.

XC had been accomplished, God being

willing.

Great-nana was very content.

XC DV

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Thank you to all who helped in recording this story —

• Owen, and all the photographers at the celebration.• Daughters, Royce, Verena, Gillian and Lynda who checked the text, and found details I could not see. I would not have managed without their practical assistance.• Lincoln Digital Printers who co-operated with us in getting the final print version ready.• Des for his patience and for helping me in so many ways.• Finally, I am grateful for the technology which has developed as I have aged, which makes it possible for me to sit at my desk at home, where I am able to research, communicate, contact people, compose stories, and share them with anyone who is interested in reading them. I do not understand how these things work, to me it is like magic, and I am glad to have lived to take part in this magical experience.

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