My grandmother, Marcella May Moran, died last Friday. She was 96. The family and I made the trip up to Nambucca Heads on Monday for her funeral on Tuesday. As well as acting as pallbearer along with my other cousins, I was also asked to write and deliver her eulogy. By reading this, you will hopefully gain an insight to the inspirational woman that was my grandmother.
BTW - just as an aside, this eulogy was embraced by everyone present in the church – and I can’t tell you how proud I was that so many people came up to me afterwards, mentioning it was a very fitting and poignant farewell to my Gran.
Marcella May Moran (aka Gran)
My grandmother, Marcella May Moran, was a woman of many inner strengths, unique qualities and abilities. In an age where the importance of the word family is often bandied about quite casually, she came to represent, along with her late husband Patrick, my grandfather, the head of a significant family dynasty stretching from 7 children, to 22 grandchildren, to 28 great grandchildren and 2 great great grandchildren. All these descendants are still living. I believe this represents her greatest achievement, one that few, if any of us, can hope to even aspire to, let alone equal.
For most of us, she will be simply forever known as “Gran”
Background / Early Family / Meeting Patrick
Gran was born Marcella May Flick in 1911 on 3rd March in Bowraville, the baby daughter of Thomas William and Rosanna Flick. Thomas’ original name was von Flick, the German ‘von’ part was dropped when the family arrived in Australia some time prior.
Gran had three brothers Ernie, Billy and Ben and a sister Rosanna (who was the eldest). The underlying strength of the Flick gene can be seen in the fact that both Rosanna and Ernie lived well into their 90s.
The family had three dairy share farms over the years – the first one at Taylor Arm, then at South Arm, and finally at Missabotti. As a sign of her industriousness, at South Arm, at Paul Days farm, while a young girl of about 10, Gran assisted milking between 80 and 90 cows in the peak season, when butter was only 6 pence a pound, and her fathers share was then threepence a pound.
Gran had to walk 3 miles to school in Bowraville in her bare feet – rain hail, sleet or shine.
Needless to say, times were tough. However, these early days were a good training ground for life on a dairy farm, which was going to be the basis of Gran’s working life over the next 40 years
Early Life with Patrick on the farm at Missabotti
The Flick family moved to their share dairy farm at Missabotti in the middle of the 1920s. It was there, one day that a bullock driver went passed, who summoned up the courage to chat her up. Gran’s curt response to this rather brash young man was:
“I don’t speak to all sorts”
Nevertheless, this young man, of good Irish stock, persisted and the story he told to his children many years later was:
”Once she leaves school, she will be the one for me”
As a result of that fateful encounter, Marcella May Flick became Mrs Patrick Francis Joseph Moran on 30th October 1929, when they were married at this very church.
Patrick had a house built for his young bride at Upper Misabotti where they shortly began their life together on Patrick’s dairy farm.
Raising of 7 children
As you would expect, life on the farm was tough – Gran had to milk cows by hand, she cooked for 6 men, who worked in the bush with Patrick, as well as raise the seven children which would be born over the ensuing 10 years.
During this period, the cooking was done on a fuel stove, with no washing machines or fridges, as electricity didn’t arrive until early 1940.
Gran also assisted with banana packing in the late 1930s, and in the late 1940s, tomato picking and packing, as well as the picking and packing of peas and beans. In the mid 1940s, she did her bit for the war effort, by assisting in the repatriation of two Italian POWs, Karl and Phillip.
Additional hardship resulted from the death of her mother, Rosanna, when Gran was only 22, thereby preventing any maternal assistance from mother to daughter. By contrast, Gran’s eldest daughter today is a sprightly 77, with the other daughters also in their 70s.
Gran soon had the reputation as being known as the best cook in the Nambucca Valley, who could often make a meal out of next to nothing. Those of you in this church who have experience Gran’s cooking know exactly what I mean. This includes Father Peter who on more than one occasion expressed a passion for Gran’s passionfruit tart, not to mention her baked dinners.
Even though all seven children eventually wound up going to boarding school, Gran was always there should her children require her assistance. And this was sought and provided without question on innumerable occasions.
As is the case in all families, children being children can often prove to be quite the embarrassment. An example of this was when the twins, Marcia and Johnny, not more than 4 years of age, thought it would be a fun idea to cover themselves in axel grease and swing naked in front of Fred Gorley’s car as he drove past. It took Gran several hours of Kerosene scrubbing to clean the little monsters up.
However, Gran’s life did extend to beyond the diary farm. With the success of both the farm, and Patrick’s diversification into the timber industry by purchase of the old blitz wagon, they enjoyed travel to Europe for 6 months over 1958. This voyage on the Strathmore and the Strathaven encompassed numerous historical points of interest that both Patrick and Marcella had long since desired to visit. One of these was meeting and shaking hands with a young Queen Elizabeth in the gardens of Buckingham Palace.
For Gran, a particular highlight was her pilgrimage to Lourdes and Fatima, two locations considered paramount in the Roman Catholic region. This also assisted in the testing of Gran’s faith when the first grandson Paul, was born. Gran also had an audience with the Pope over this time as well.
The Move to Nambucca
Patrick and Marcella moved to Nambucca Heads in approx 1960, to a house that Patrick provided the timber for. This was to be their home for he next 40 or so years.
Other destinations travelled to over this time included the Far East, New Zealand, Perth and New Guinea – where my father Danny was working in the Bank at the time.
Gran was also one of the privileged few people invited to draw out from the State Lottery (Lotto) office – where she won $20 on the day she drew the lottery.
Although the dairy farm was now run by their son Paul, the house at Nambucca soon became the focal point of the wider Moran family gatherings and get togethers. Especially now that the sons and daughters of Marcella and Patrick were having children of their own.
The importance of family to Gran could be witnessed at several occasions, birthdays, christenings – in short – hers and Grandfathers presence at key events in their grandchildren’s lives. For me, one of these ongoing series of the importance of family came about at the infamous Misabotti Beer Festivals. Gran and Grandfather were generally always there, and there were several opportunities for photo snaps of the wider Moran clan – often one of the few occasions when the entire family was in the one location.
In 1979, this dynasty was in full evidence at their Golden Wedding anniversary. Not only were all the children and most of the grandchildren present, but their bridal table was also the same, bar one – a remarkable achievement.
My grandfather Patrick passed away in April 1988, unfortunately depriving them of a 60-year anniversary by some 18 months. Although obviously heartbroken, Gran displayed again her underlying qualities of strength and stoicism, by refusing to ‘throw in the towel’ and to go on living.
Later Years
Gran stayed on in the house in Nambucca until only two years ago, again another remarkable achievement – living alone at the age of 95.
With the onset of the years, Gran’s singular sense of humour manifested itself in countless examples. Here are a few of them:
• One Melbourne Cup, Gran misplaced her racing tickets – but she was still adamant that “some theiven bastard” had come in to the house to specifically steal them out from under her.
• Similar anecdotes surround her false teeth. Burglars were accused of coming into the rob them as well, although god knows what Nambucca’s best thieves would have wanted with an old woman’s teeth. This is nothing however, compared with the time when her teeth were replaced by the local dentist and when they didn’t quite fit, she was equally adamant that a “pigs tooth” had been put in their in its place.
Gran’s later years cannot be recounted without the selfless efforts and special thanks required to my aunts Rhona and June – both of whom took turns at looking after Gran and putting up with her behaviour which could be quite erratic at times.
My Recollections
Finally, I would like to conclude by offering you some personal recollections of the wonderful woman I knew as my grandmother. I’m sure other grandchildren present in this church will be able to offer similar recollections.
To me, she will always be remembered as an integral part of my childhood, from those lazy, sun dappled days of summer holidays at that white panelled house at Nambucca. Her continual presence in that kitchen, the soft low hum of that old freezer, from military style preparation of breakfasts, lunches (her salads, mayonnaise, sponge cakes to name but a few), as well as dinners – all had with bread and tea.
For looking after us all those summers long ago, even when Karen, Desi and I, being children, were customarily naughty and even had ‘spilt the milk’ all over her newly cleaned floor. Any anger she may have deservedly felt to us that afternoon, was quickly forgotten that same evening, where she would gently tease us as to who
“wanted the red one and who wanted the green one”
regarding those infamous coloured desert serving bowls.
Her love of music and opera, which she often displayed, whether by singing around the house, tickling a few keys on the piano wherever she was at a house with one, or even just quietly humming and tapping away a tune to pass the time.
My sister Karen and I always knew when bedtime was approaching at Nambucca, on account of the unmistakeable smell of Nivia cream, which Gran applied religiously every night.
That practice, responsible for keeping her looking way younger than actual years (and to ensure that the dreaded crows feet was resisted for as long as possible), was I’m sure also a contributor towards Gran always wanting to smile and make sure she was suitably dressed before ANY photo was taken of her.
Vanity – perhaps? But regardless of how she felt about her own appearance, the important thing is we now have her record, her memory and her face irretrievably etched in our minds.
Well, she is now upstairs with Grandfather, no doubt sharing a joke with him, and amongst others, with their close friends Harold and Edna. I would like to conclude by the recitation of a poem that I personally heard her sing often, and with considerable emotion. I’m sure most of you will also know it:
I wandered today to the hills Paddy
To watch the scene below
The creek and the creaking old mill Paddy
Where we used to long long agoThe green growth is gone from the hills Paddy
Where first the daisies spring
The creaking old mill is still Paddy
Since you and I were youngOh they say that I’m feeble with age Paddy
My steps are much slower than then
My face is a well written page Paddy
And time all along was the pen
Oh they say we have outlived our time Paddy
As dated as songs that we’ve sung
But to me, you’re as fair as you were Paddy
When you and I were young
Oh they say we have outlived our time Paddy
As dated as songs that we’ve sung
But to me, you’re as fair as you were Paddy
When you and I were young
To Gran
