My Clan: A Functional, Often Dysfunctional Family

By Lynette S. Price

This book gives the reader an insight into each member of a large household - sixteen people in all. The grandmother, the parents and their nine children, an aunt, uncle and cousin and a gay boarder. It spans five generations and shows what life was like for people in the early part of the 20th century. The grandmother, born in 1894, saw two world wars and the subsequent depressions and lost family in WWI. It shows how the grandmother was in a difficult marriage and ultimately got divorced in 1920's and life as a sole parent during that time. The father and the uncle were both in the army in WWII and gives a little insight into what they went through. It tells of school days in catholic schools and the abuse suffered there by the author and her siblings. The author tells about her life as being a victim/survivor of domestic violence and speaks of her depression. Each member of the family is unique and their stories are very real. It also shows a lot of love and support for each other and shows how multiple strong personalities can all live together. In this book you will see how my grandmother, born in 1894, came to be disowned by her father in 1915. How my mother became a state ward and the physical and mental abuse she suffered in the 1930's. Although in this book you will see incidences of bullying, abandonment, drug abuse and many other issues, you will also see that, for the most part, how each one has come through it all in this very functional dysfunctional family.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press AU
• Release date: Aug 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9781982295615

Lynette S. Price

The author is one of a large family. She is a survivor of domestic violence and has dealt with severe depression. Her life has led her down multiple paths, with different people, and shows what effect those people have had on her. Her story deals with issues of bullies, drug abuse, abandonment, financial hardship, loneliness, Alzheimers and other issues.

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Copyright © 2022 Lynette S. Price.

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ISBN: 978-1-9822-9560-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-9561-5 (e)

Balboa Press rev. date: 09/14/2022

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I DEDICATE THIS BOOK TO MY

three sons – Robert, Adam and Scott – who have been the light of my life and more often than they know, my only reasons to keep on going. I may have given them life, but they gave me a reason to live.

These are my personal memories, along with memories from each of my siblings about their lives, and my hope is that our children and future generations will enjoy reading this and finding out about their heritage and how life was for all those who came before them. Everything is based in fact – it’s not a fairy tale – so some things may or may not be upsetting to read. The hope is that as you read this, you will see that our family was made up of real people, who had to deal with real problems - loss of loved ones, conflicts, resolution of conflicts, bullying, health issues, financial problems, domestic violence, depression and other issues that many families face in one way or another.

I wish to thank my loving sister, Rose, who has always been there for me. Also, my brother Michael (who reminded me to keep it real), and sisters Julie, Charmaine and Jeanette, all of whom shared their stories with me for this book. I must also thank Carla’s youngest son, for enhancing some of the old photos which will, hopefully, make this book a more memorable experience.

A special thank you must go to my dear friend, Michele, who painstakingly read and edited this book for me, making it more readable and, hopefully, more enjoyable.

I also want to thank my niece, Kerry, for all her work on our family tree and without whom some of the facts in this book would only be family lore and guess-work.

Finally, I wish to thank my husband, Peter, who was very patient with me whilst I was writing this book, and who was my sounding board for listening to the changes and inclusions to this book that I felt necessary.

This story spans six generations and I am very proud to be able to present my family to anyone who cares to get to know them – even a little!

It’s very hard to know where to begin – there is so much to tell. So far, it has taken me quite a long time to get to do this, but as this is for my children and all my siblings’ children, and their children and their children’s children, I feel passionate about completing this for them all.

I guess one of my earliest recollections is, as a child of about four years of age, one day at pre-school (or kindergarten as it was called then). Marlene (my sister - who was only thirteen months older than me) and I had to go to kindergarten together, because Marlene had serious problems with her eyes and her doctor told Mum it would be good for her, so I went with her for company. I remember I was playing with some blocks and colouring in. Marlene was building a block tower and was getting bullied by a boy who knocked her tower over, so I went over to him and pushed him over. Of course, I got into trouble, but he didn’t bully my sister any more after that. When our mother came to collect us and was told about the incident, she roused at me a little in front of the teacher, but after we left she told me (tongue in cheek) I was a good girl for sticking up for my sister, but pushing and hitting were bad things to do to other people and there were other ways to resolve disputes that did not involve physical violence. (Of course, all of this was in four year old language.)

Now, how many of you have an incident just like that one in your life – getting into trouble for protecting a brother or sister, or a friend, from some bully?

You know, it’s funny really, but when I was ten years old I once again got into trouble for protecting the same sister from the neighbourhood tuffies. Marlene had gone down to the corner shop, which was just down the street from our house. I was on our front verandah with Mum when I looked towards the shop and saw those bullies standing in a circle around her and pushing my sister around and calling her names like four-eyes, goggle-eyes, cock-eyes, etc. because she wore glasses. Well, I jumped over the verandah railing and bolted down there before Mum could stop me. Now all these kids were quite a bit bigger than me, but somehow I laid into them and even broke one kid’s nose (Lord knows how, but I did) and then they started to back away. I thought it was because I laid into them, when in fact it was because they saw my Mum coming down the street behind me and had backed off.

Anyway, after the dust settled, I got into trouble again, of course, because the kid’s mother came to see Mum to complain and threaten me with the police. Talk about cheeky, but I told that lady I would break her nose too! My mother sent me straight to my room where I had to think about other ways to calm threatening situations, rather than being so aggressive in protecting my sister.

For all our years growing up in that same neighbourhood, we had to – from time to time – contend with those bullies. But we weren’t the only family they picked on. They also gave one other family hell. They were a family of five girls and we were a family of seven girls and two boys. Although my eldest brother was ten years older than me, eight of us had been born within twelve years, and we were best friends with the other children, who were similar ages to us.

I wasn’t the first born, but always seemed to be the one to have the responsibility of the younger ones. My older sister, Marlene, had some very serious health issues as a child and I must admit I’ve always been a bit of an organiser, so this never worried me. (We actually had a lot of fun and one time I even tried to organise five of us kids into a singing group. A failed project that was!!) Marlene had Pink’s Disease as a baby and also developed Rheumatic Fever when very young. Also, Mum had German Measles when pregnant with Marlene and, as a consequence, Marlene’s eyesight was impaired and, as mentioned before, she had to wear quite thick glasses – even as a child. Sadly, back then there wasn’t any pre-screening for diseases like Rubella!!

When there was a long weekend, we older girls and Michael were allowed to stay up late and watch horror films with Deadly Ernest and Elvira (which we would now class more as comedies) about vampires, werewolves, and the like and we thoroughly enjoyed them. The younger kids were sent to bed at normal time and not allowed to stay up and watch with us in case they had nightmares.

When one of us got chicken pox, four others came down with it too. Our lounge room looked like a hospital ward, with each of the five of us lying on a mattress with blankets and lots and lots of calamine lotion all over us. This saved Mum from running up and down the stairs all day.

All of us girls shared this one lovely doll, which was made of a very hard, plastic-type material and stood about three feet tall. Her lips were parted just a little and she had a lovely smile. We were only little and whenever one of us was sick and had to stay in bed, we got to have Susie to ourselves for that time. We loved her and used to feed her too – mostly Peck’s Paste sandwiches – but pretty much whatever we were eating. Can you imagine what that would have ended up smelling like…..fermented bread and Peck’s Paste and other assorted treats – NOT pleasant! Mum eventually took her to the Doll Hospital and had her cleaned out and we did not feed her any more after that….well nothing smelly anyway!!

As a child growing up, my family was the most important thing to me, and there was always something going on. I remember when my cousin, Maria, got married, there were fifty-three people on the guest list before she even started inviting any friends. That’s a big family and at the centre of it was my Nanna, who was our family’s matriach!!

My grandmother, Mary Gertrude Silva (born in November, 1894), was one heck of a lady. As I said, she was the family’s matriarch And she was an incredibly strong and kind lady, whose story is both happy and sad!

(One day Mary (Nanna) told me the story of how her father and mother met. She said it was in the time when the Portuguese pillaged the British Coast and she said her father stole her mother away, but was emphatic that they did get married.)

Maybe a bit of poetic license there, because her father, Matthew William Silva, who was a merchant sea captain, was born in Sydney, Australia. (His father was originally from Portugal and his mother was originally from London, England. However, his parents met and married in Sydney.) Sarah Ann Mahony, Mary’s mother, was of Irish parents (from Tipperary) who emigrated to Australia and she was born here too.

Mary’s mother and father married on June 9th, 1890 in Sydney, New South Wales and settled in Watson’s Bay. They had six children – four girls and two boys. Her mother died quite young (only thirty nine years old) when Mary was only thirteen years old. The four girls, of whom Mary was the eldest, were sent to live in a Catholic convent. I’m not sure what happened with the boys – boarding school, I think. Mary’s father was a master mariner and merchant sea captain and was away a lot of the time. This was apparently the only course for them as their father was not able to care for them and there was no-one else who could look after them.

What a frightening thing that must have been for those children, to be ripped away from all they knew and put into a place where there was not even much genuine care and compassion. A Catholic convent!! My Nanna told me that when she first got her monthly’s she actually thought she was bleeding to death. She remembered hugging one of the walls outside – in the rain – crying. When she was discovered she was told to expect this every month for the best part of her life. No reassurances, no explanations as to what was happening, no gentle words to calm her fears.

I am not sure how long the girls remained in the care of the nuns, but they and their brothers did all end up living back in their father’s home. One evening when Mary’s father was back in port, he brought a young deckhand home to have dinner with them. His name was Harold Leonard Robinson.

Whenever they were in port, Harold would visit the family, and gradually a romance developed between Mary and Harold. Even though he was the one who introduced them, her father did not approve. However, this was bigger than both Mary and Harold and they announced that they wanted to marry. She did not get her father’s blessing – and this had always made her sad. It’s strange really, that Mary’s father would bring this young man home to meet his family, but be so vehement that his daughter should not become involved with him. (Maybe he knew something he hadn’t shared with any of them, and certainly had not shared with Mary.)

Harold was born in Napier, New Zealand and had one brother, Arthur. From a very young age, they lived with their mother at her sister’s home, after their father had deserted them. His mother died when he was eighteen years old.

However, Mary was stubborn and refused to bow to her father’s rule and so she was forced to leave the family home for defying him. She married Harold Robinson on June 16th, 1915 and soon they were expecting their first child. Even this news did not soften her father who, because of health issues, was now not going to sea as often. These times were even more tumultuous because war had broken out and life in Australia was changing and would never be the same for many.

In August 1914, Australia became involved in World War One – WWI. From that point on, life would change for many people. Thousands of people enlisted and went overseas to war – over 330,000 men and women.

At home, in Australia, people felt terrible. Hearing of the loss of their loved ones in their families and their communities was heartbreaking. Differing views on conscription caused many communities to be divided. However, there was still a lot of activity in Australia supporting the war. Many people gave up their free time to help out and many women became volunteers and worked in military hospitals and convalescent homes. Some women packed special items from home to help keep the soldiers morale up and some women knitted them warm socks. Also, a lot of Australians, collectively and generously, donated many millions of pounds to help others during the war….well over a billion dollars in todays money.

Mary’s child was born, a daughter named Kathleen, in January 1916. She took the baby to see her father, but still he would have nothing to do with them. He told her he had other daughters who respected his wishes and would not defy him.

How that must have hurt her.

Mary and Harold went on to have six children – five girls and one boy – Kathleen, Arthur (Mick), Joan, Joyce, Mavis and Merle. They were all born within seven or so years and were always very close. The birth of their daughter, Mavis, actually made it into the newspapers. She was a premature baby of only 1.13 kgs and was the first baby born so premature, and so small, that survived (in Sydney anyway). This was due in no small way to the care given her by her mother. Mary had to keep her in an iron crib (basically a rectangular iron box), lined with cotton wool, with a bunsen burner underneath the crib to keep an even temperature. Handling the infant was to be kept to a minimum – only for feeding, bathing and changing – as per doctor’s orders. Mavis became a tall, strapping lady of six foot one inch, and she was a very healthy woman, with the most ticklish sense of humour and who really liked a beer. I remember at our family parties, Aunty Mavis would have a glass of beer in her hand and a jug of beer under her chair – it was hilarious!! If she looked like running out of beer, she would get one of us kids to go and get her another jug, and she would be so happy and laughing and telling jokes and, in general, having a really good time.

Mary’s husband, Harold, was still a merchant seaman and was away from home quite a lot. This made life very difficult for Mary, as she was left to raise the children mostly on her own.

Maybe it was due to his absences, or maybe it was because there were things between them that could not be fixed, but Mary’s marriage had broken down. With six children (the youngest only three months old) and a mortgage, her husband left her in 1923. He returned to the home only once many years later and, as you can imagine, was not made welcome. He had left his wife and children to fend for themselves with no thought of what hardships they would have to endure. Things were really hard for single parent families in the early 1900’s – there was none of the help that we so readily take for granted nowadays and Australia was still in the grip of the post-War depression. Mary divorced Harold in 1925. The grounds for divorce was that he was an habitual drunkard, who left her without means of supporting herself and the children.

Mary took in boarders, did ironing for people and did any other odd job she could to provide a home, food and schooling for her six children. On top of all this, she had to contend with the fear that the authorities would take her children away from her if she couldn’t provide them with a good and stable home. Her children were her life and nothing meant more to her than them.

Anyone who has ever been through a broken marriage or relationship knows the pain. Can you possibly imagine living through it in a time of depression when there was little or no government help for deserted families, and authorities were quick to remove children from single parents, who were doing it tough, and place them in homes.

I remember when my first son was only about a year old and I was minding Nanna while Mum and Aunty Kath went to town to buy a new stove. A knock came on the front door and Nanna panicked, telling me to take the baby and hide him upstairs, that this was the Welfare come to try and take him. Sadly, at this time, my Nanna was suffering from Alzheimer’s Disease and thought my son was her own and her fear at losing him was tangible. It wasn’t until this happened that I could even begin to appreciate the struggle she went through just to keep her family together.

Mary’s father now no longer went to sea as he had become ill – so ill in fact that he needed to be cared for. Those wonderful children he had thrown in Mary’s face years before would not look after him. But Mary did. He had what was historically known as Little’s Disease, a type of Cerebral Palsy (which was congenital), but which did not seriously impact on him until about middle age, when his extremities became very affected with stiffness. For two years prior to his passing she cared for him, until finally he had to be placed in a State Home Facility in Lidcombe, where he passed away in 1930. (I never did find out if he actually told her he was sorry for the way he had treated her and her family and Mary never spoke about it. For her sake, I hope he did.)

You can see why I feel she was such a great lady! She had a heart as big as they come and was, obviously, a very forgiving and compassionate person.

Eventually, Mary sold her family home and bought another, bigger house in the same suburb, and this would be the