This is the Text of Maureen’s history/autobiography. Some mistakes are original, and some may be from the text recognition of the pdf images. I’ll endeavour to correct any mistakes and will include the original pictures shortly (and add pictures from her collection referred to, but not yet added, by her). Paragraph spacing/formatting on the original was somewhat inconsistent, so I have tried to tidy it up to make easier reading.

MAUREEN FLORENCE O’SULLIVAN

ALSO KNOWN AS

SR ELIZABETH O’SULLIVAN C.S.B.

O’SULLIVAN, SULLIVAN STORY

The name is of a very well known Munster family. The original patrimony of the O’Sullivan’s lay along the River Suir, in the present County Tipperary, and their principal seat was at Knockgraffon near Cahir. In the year 1192A.D. they were forced by the Anglo-Norman invasion into the mountains of Cork and Kerry. In their new home, however, they acquired extensive possessions and became one of the most powerful families in all Ireland.

Notwithstanding the confiscation of their estates in the 17″ Century, the O’SULLIVANS are still a respected family. The name is famous in Spain, Belgium and Germany, with the titles of Count and Baron. It is also famous in the United States of America and Great Britain.

O’SULLIVAN simply means Son of Sullivan.

The family motto is

THE HAND OF FRIENDSHIP IS STILL FIRM.

Grandfather, Eugene and other family members left Bandon, County Cork, Ireland during the famine and sailed for the United States, settling in Newhaven, Connecticut.

The story goes that Eugene found the climate very cold or maybe it was the lure of gold, which made him head for Melbourne, Australia, where he arrived in 1850, having been lost to his family for some years. When he was located he was working in the Sunbury and Broadmeadows areas cutting and trussing hay into stooks.

Mary Doran had also migrated with her parents and was living in Bolingbroke now Pascoe Vale. They were married on the 17th or 27th October, 1860 in St. Francis Church, Melbourne. At Preston, part of which was known as “Irishtown” they established a farm of 16 acres which grew eventually to 80 acres, including 20 on the southern side of Gower Street where fodder for horses was grown. On the northern side, the farm ultimately extended to Wood Street and a dairy herd was built up. The farmhouse still stood in 1997 at 160 Gower Street.

Eugene and Mary had fourteen children; nine sons and five daughters. My father, William was the second youngest and the last boy.

Dad had been a postman early in his working life. He must have lived in Collingwood in those days as he came from there when he married. He was a quiet reserved man, who never said an unkind word about anyone. I heard him once say to my brothers, “If you can’t say anything good about a person, don’t say anything.” It seemed that he only communicated with his family members at Christmas. No doubt it was too much to keep up with the other 10 living ones. He used to say, “as long as we know the others are alright, we don’t need to be in touch.” He was good at reciting poetry, so on the rare occasions that we had company, he would be called upon to entertain them by reciting. One of the audience’s favourites was “Peter Soregum in Love.” He kept a small notebook into which he had copied all these poems and after his death, I inherited it.

My mother, Florence, born on 17th April, 1886, fondly called “Florrie” or ‘Flo’ was the third child – eldest daughter of John Henry and Marie Cecilia Dowling (nee Judd) who were married at Emerald Hill, later South Melbourne, in 1881. She was a very different character from my father — more outgoing. She had been a seamstress at Ball and Welch, beginning work when she was just thirteen. She had many friends throughout life and kept up with them — The Ralphs, Clancys, Mc Gintys and Thomases often visited our home. Mum was more volatile than Dad — he had only to look cross or warn us and we would quiver. Mum often used the phrase: “I’ll tell your Father” and we would ‘toe the line’ at once. When it came to getting permission for what we wanted, she would say, ‘What did your father say?” Conversely, he would ask, “Did your mother say you could?” But they were both caring and loving parents, going without those extra pleasures, to make sure that we were well fed and clothed and received a good education. They had very high standards of behaviour and a strong Catholic Faith to back it up.

Photo of my parents in the backyard.

William and Florence were married at Sacred Heart Church, Preston on 2nd August 1912. They had five children, Francis William (Frank) born 9th September 1916; John Joseph (Jack) born 21st July 1918; Kevin Eugene (Kevin) born 1st July 1921; Mary Patricia (Pat) born 3rd January 1926; and Maureen Florence ( Maureen) born on 17th December 1928.

PHOTO OF OUR FAMILY THE DAY I LEFT

THE SULLIVAN /O’SULLIVAN DILEMMA IN OUR FAMILY

Eugene Sullivan, Dad’s father did not use the O when he came to Australia. Archbishop Carr, who ordained Dad’s brother, Timothy in 1900; because of a duplication of names in the seminary, tacked on the O. The mistake, was that we were all registered O’Sullivan when we were born. Dad maintained that he didn’t owe anything to anyone, so he didn’t use the O. In the next generation, Fr. O’Byrne [James Byrne], an Irishman and the Parish Priest of Our Lady’s South Wangaratta, gave it to my brother Jack’s children at Baptism or when they were married . My father’s advice to the boys was not to use the O when they were seeking employment during the Depression as it was a dead give away that they were of Irish descent and Catholic. During World War II, when Kevin was in the Air Force, my mother was mortified when a policeman came to our front door, asking why he had changed his name from O’ Sullivan to Sullivan.

When I entered the Brigidines in 1946, the then Mother Provincial, Xavier Ryan said that I was to use it even though all my school life I had been known as Maureen Sullivan.

Maureen’s Story

I was born at home at 47 Brunel Street, East Malvern, where we lived till I was 3. Just six days later, I was taken by my father and the nurse, who cared for me at the time, to St. Mary’s Church to be baptised. Mum, apparently was not well enough to be present. This nurse, whose name I don’t recall, gave me a very beautiful Prayer book which I cherished for many years.

It seems that when I was about six months old, my life hung in the balance for a time. Dad had a relic of the Little Flower (St. Therese of Lisieux) which had been given to him by a French nun for whom he had done some favour.

This he put under my pillow, and, no doubt prayed to the saint and I recovered. Our parents taught us our prayers. At first it was “God bless Mummy and Daddy and make me a good girl.” Later we learnt the more formal prayers like the Our Father and Hail Mary.

During my early life I remember my maternal grandmother being with us for short periods. We had a photograph of her standing in the front garden near the hydrangeas and another of Pat, Kevin and myself outside the back door.

I don’t remember a great deal about those days except that the boys were allowed to play in the Hedgely Gardens behind our house. There was a gate that led out to them but Pat and I did not venture out without our parents. In 1997 Pat took me for a drive around that area and when we stopped outside the old place, the then owner invited us in to see the house which had been vastly altered by them.

Frank, Jack, Kevin and Pat all attended St. Mary’s Primary School. Later on Frank and Jack went to De La Salle College, Malvern. Kevin must still have been at the Primary when we left and Pat had made her First Communion there under the guidance of Mother Francesca Lennon.

Our next move was to Lucerne Street, Mentone (now part of the Mentone Boys Grammar School). Ultimately we were to live in three houses in Mentone.

Dad was very fond of the area which may have been because his brother Tim had been Parish Priest at St. Patrick’s from 1917 — 1928.

I remember my mother’s sister, Ellie, coming to visit us one time and she collapsed in our lounge room. The event terrified me as I suppose I thought she would die. On another occasion, I recall that my mother was, as usual, doing her washing on Monday morning when the Parish Priest arrived unexpectedly. She was mortified to think that she was found in her soaked apron by a PRIEST.

Neighbours

We had neighbours, the Kings, who had one daughter, Charman. We often played together. I think that my mother was not overly happy about our friendship as she was not a Catholic. When I started school, she went to the Girl’s Grammar, so the ties were severed.

School Days

Pat went to school at Kilbreda because it was on “our” side of the railway line and my parents considered it was safer than her crossing over the line to go to St. Patrick’s Primary which was a church-school at the time. I was a very lonely without her and used to stand at the front gate waiting for her to come home from school. Sometimes my Mother would take me to the corner of Lucerne St. and Como Pde., where we could see her approaching from a distance. I was also very shy when I was little and I can remember clinging to Dad’s legs or sitting on his knee while other children played and had fun at a function in Kilbreda (Como) Hall , before I started school. I joined Pat at Kilbreda in February, 1934 when I was six being taught in the Infants by Mother Elizabeth Griffin. In the following year, Pat and I became boarders at Kilbreda. That year Dad had six months’ leave from his job in the Customs. He leased a small farm in Pearcedale where Frank and Jack were put to farming because they had found it hard to find or keep a job due to the Depression. During this time mum lived in a flat in Payne St. Frankston with Kevin, who was attending St. Patrick’s College, East Melbourne, travelling there each day by train. No doubt it was considered that we little girls were too young to travel by train to Mentone.

I was prepared for my First Holy Communion, which took place in Kilbreda Chapel, by Mother Evangelist Butler. The night before, she put my hair in rags so I’d have curls and look my best the next day. We had to be very careful not to swallow any water whilst cleaning our teeth, because that would break our fast and we wouldn’t be able to receive Communion. Our Communion breakfast took place in what was then the Library. We sat along the sides of a long table with Fr. Adrian Martin, then Parish Priest, at the top and I recall that he and I shared an orange.

To break me out of my shyness or because I was having private Elocution lessons, I was chosen to recite a poem for the Christmas play. I had to walk the length of Kilbreda Hall, through the audience reciting “How far is it to Bethlehem?” My preparation was being drilled by Mother Berchmans Foley who took me to the empty hall for practice each day till I was word perfect. My mother was known to tell the story of how someone sitting next to her on the night of the concert thought my performance wonderful and my mother’s breast swelled with pride as she revealed that I was her daughter.

At the end of that year, my parents gave all the boarders a party, for a good-bye celebration. When we came out of the boarders’ dining-room, I thought it was the end of the world because there had been a red dust storm and everything looked very eerie.

When Dad’s leave was over, it was necessary for the family to be re-united – Mum and Kevin from Frankston, Pat and myself from Boarding School. Frank and Jack remained on the farm for a while but could not manage alone.

For the second time we moved to Mentone where our parents had found a suitable house at 19 Naples Road. This meant that Pat and I became Day Pupils again.

Three boys, Brian, Dick and Sean Bourke, lived next door and on the other side was a vacant allotment where we often played Cowboys and Indians with them, hiding or making huts in the tea tree which is common in the area.

Our house was not large having only two bedrooms but there was a sleep-out in the backyard so the boys occupied that. I have a vivid memory of my parents and we girls, preparing melon for jam-making. All the pips had to be removed before cutting up the melon and the pipping was our job. It was good fun! Not such good fun was when my mother was frying vegetables and the pan caught fire. She had a severe burn on her wrist which must have been very painful. I guess Dad cooked our evening meal for the next week or so. On another occasion when Dad was working overtime and therefore not with us for the evening meal, we were having boiled mutton in parsley sauce when Mum got some gristle caught in her throat and she very nearly choked — not a good experience for two little girls.

I hated the nights when Dad had to stay back late at work. It was during these years at Naples Rd. that a Polio Epidemic broke out and the schools were closed. Although we couldn’t go and play with other children I remember getting up on the fence between our houses to talk to the Burkes.

When the boys came home from the farm they brought back a dog called Patch. She eventually had a litter of pups, one of which we kept named Bobbie.

One Saturday afternoon, both Frank and Jack wanted to go and play tennis. Apparently there were only one pair of white sandshoes between them, so they fought and Jack threw one shoe over the fence into the paddock. Dad had to intervene, but Jack who was hot-headed, ran away and although Dad tried to follow him his efforts were in vain. From then onwards my Mother would sit in the corner of her bedroom by the window watching for him to return. She would have her rosary beads in her hand, praying for his safety. After some months he turned up at the back door where Dad had to talk to him before he was allowed to come inside. He had been working on farms in N.S.W.

Pat had a friend at school, named Valerie Wadsworth. Her parents ran a hotel and she was boarding at Kilbreda. On some special occasion she came to stay with us. She was very taken with the boys and they with her. I think they had lot of fun together.

By now I was 8 and was taught by Mother Agnes O’Keane in the cottage, which was a classroom set apart from the rest of the school and near the nuns’ laundry. She looked very severe and sat on a rostrum in the comer of the room, but she drilled us well in spelling, tables and daily recitation of poetry and the Catechism. We sat in long forms, six or seven desks in a row. I remember well the clock on the mantelpiece over the fireplace with its swinging pendulum. I suppose I watched the clock hoping that the hands would move more quickly.

During that year and the next, Pat and I had all the childhood illnesses plus Pat developed a poisoned knee following the Sports’ Day sack race. I had to go on my scooter to fetch the doctor when she became delirious. This particular scooter had pumped — up tyres so when I went in the scooter race on the Sports’ day, I had the advantage over all the others. No one seemed to notice this. Towards the end of the race, I was so far ahead that I stopped scooting, put my two feet on the board and sailed home. I even received a trophy when it came to Speech Night, that year.

On another occasion I had a heavy chest infection and on the verge of pneumonia. In addition, one day we had a visit from the McGinty’s and John, who was about my age and I had a collision. He was on my scooter and I was riding Pat’s bicycle, when he looked around, swerved in front of me and I went over the handle-bars on to the road. A bed was set up on the back verandah and the doctor was sent for. He pronounced a broken nose accompanied, of course by two black eyes.

About this time, I was beginning to come out of my shell a bit. I loved to sing and dance in front of the wardrobe mirror in our bedroom and once had the temerity to ask Dad if I could learn dancing. Such a thing was considered infra dig, but very likely we could not afford it.

There were three of us in the class when I was in Grade 5 and in the end of the year exams, I came third —a real come down as I had done quite well in previous years. Mother Stanislaus taught us and, for a time, Mother Damien. My father was very upset when he received a second account for my fees, from the latter. He wrote a note for me to give her, stating that he had always paid his accounts and that she would receive it as soon as he was able to do so. I knew what the note was about and was a little shy about delivering it.

The next year we left Mentone temporarily as Mum’s Mother wanted to live with us and all her connections were in Preston, Clifton Hill or Brunswick. We rented a house belonging to Gertie Landgridge at 8 Joffre Street, East Preston and I went to school at Sacred Heart Primary, Preston. Some of Joe Costigan’s children were there at the time but not in my grade. The Costigans were regarded as the “Intellectuals” and we were very ordinary in that area. Pat stayed on at Kilbreda for a time as a weekly boarder, but she was very lonely and homesick.

I had never been in a mixed school and also found the Good Samaritan Sisters very different from the Brigidines. The cane was used not only for misbehaviour but also for inability to get Mental Arithmetic and Spelling etc. right.

I was very unhappy at school and somewhat fearful at home. My mother was looking after her ailing mother who suffered from Bronchial Pneumonia. Often mum would have to get up at night to attend to her. Coughing spasms would often give way to vomiting attacks the sound of which terrified me, so much so, that I would cover my head with the bed clothes. I guess I missed my mother’s attention and was fretful when she had to leave our room at night — her sleep being frequently broken. Dad had several bouts of illness whilst we were there, as well. Around about this time Pat left Kilbreda and went to Broadmeadows Foundling Home, run by the Josephite Sisters, to train in Mothercraft Nursing.

War was declared on 3rd September 1939 and it was not long before Frank and Jack enlisted in the Army. After a while Frank was pronounced as medically unfit as he couldn’t do the route marches required due to a recurrent abscess at the base of his spine. It was during our time in Preston that Frank began going to Thornbury, where he met Mary Sheehan. At the time he was working at the Munitions factory in Maribyrnong area but was being moved to Hamilton.

They wanted to be married before they moved, but Mary’s sister was very ill and in fact died before the marriage took place. They went to arrange the wedding but it was Lent and they could not have a Nuptial Mass so they were married on St. Patrick’s Day 17^th March, which was a feast day, in St. John’s Church, Thornbury before going to live in Hamilton.

Jack had been serving in the Middle East as a pay – master, pushing a pen, but when Japan entered the war he came back to Australia and joined the Commandos. After training he was sent to New Guinea amidst the heat and mud and in the midst of the Battle. After his discharge from the army, when peace was declared, he married Edna Kealy, a Mentone girl. Their wedding was a quiet ceremony at St. Patrick’s , Mentone.

Kevin was in the Air Force by now and he too, served for a time in New Guinea after his initial training at Sommerville, Western Port. He looked very handsome in his Air Force Uniform, wearing wings over his breast-pocket. He was a Bomb-Aimer and later became a Navigator. He and Kathleen Smith married in Holy Cross Church on 2nd March, 1946 and I was one of their bridesmaids. They gave me a pair of mother – of – pearl Rosary beads as a “thank you” gift and in 2010, I still use them each day.

Photo of them outside the church.

Pat married Dennis Mooney, at St. Patrick’s, on 27th December 1949. This was during the Christmas school holidays and I was living at Albert Park. I was allowed to go to the Mentone Convent for the day so that I could see her as a bride.

Over the road from us in Joffre St., East Preston, lived a family of Fitzgeralds. Lorraine and Joan, the two daughters were attending Our Lady’s College, Heidelberg. Our mothers must have talked and it was decided that I should join them, travelling by tram and bus each day. I was in the second term of Grade 6 at the time.

Photo of the three of us.

With my mother’s 24 hour care of her mother, my long hair could not be put in rags at night, so my long hair became short hair. Sister Patrick, a Mercy Sister said that I became “common” with the shortening of my hair. I don’t know whether she said so to my face or whether Lorraine or Joan gave me the message, but she was not my favourite teacher.

The next year I was in a composite 7th and 8th grade, taught by two of the Mercy Novices who came to teach at the college from Rosanna each day in a van. Sr. Cyrene, later Elizabeth Cloonan taught me. Things began to look up for me, as I topped the class in the first term and my confidence was renewed.

My grandmother died on 13th August, 1941. It was after tea and Mum, Dad, Pat and I were saying the rosary in her room, when Dad quietly stood up and closed her eyes, telling us that she had gone to heaven. Her Requiem was held at Sacred Heart Church, Preston and we were all able to be present as it was the feast of the Assumption and a school holiday in those days.

It was on another Feast of Our Lady’s Assumption, in 1945 ,that Mum, Dad, and we girls were in the same church for Marie McDonald’s wedding. At the end of the Mass, the priest returned to the sanctuary and announced that “Peace” had been declared. We found it very difficult to get back from Preston to Mentone that night as public transport had been cancelled in the CBD. We got a taxi to the city and joined the revellers along part of Flinders St. from whence we caught our train to Mentone.

It was during my time at Our Lady’s College that I first had the idea of being a nun. Maybe I was captivated by the young novices who taught me or perhaps it was the Sacrament of Confirmation which I received during the second year there, but I would look longingly at the Rosanna Convent when it came in to view, as we travelled home on the bus. Of course I told no one at this stage. Rev. Mother Columba prepared me for confirmation. She must have been ill recently or have had surgery, because we would go over to the Convent for our instructions either on a veranda or in a parlour. The ceremony took place in St. John’s Church on a Sunday afternoon. Archbishop Mannix confirmed us and our sponsors were senior, long-standing members of the congregation – a woman for all the girls and a man for all the boys.

I had a photo taken afterwards, which Mum sent to Jack who was now in the army and serving in the Middle East in the Pay Corps. When he wrote back his remark. was “I’m glad you’re wearing the V for victory.” The red ribbon with my Confirmation medal on it had shown up but not the medal itself – hence the V for victory remark.

Now that Grandma Dowling was not with us, it was time to look for a house back in Mentone. Mrs. Sweeney, a long time friend of Mums, told my parents that there were new houses being built opposite her in Balcombe Road. She began by praying that we would get one of these houses and she put a miraculous medal of Our Lady over the fence of one of them.

On 1st November 1941 we moved from East Preston into our new house at 139 Balcombe Road. Much to my delight, I returned to Kilbreda, but being introduced to Algebra and French for the first time just one month before the close of the Grade 7 year did not make me confident about school. One of the nuns referred to me as the “new girl.” I remember feeling quite put out as I had been at Kilbreda since I was in Infants and had only been away for 18 months. She, on the other hand, might only have been there for three months.

In 1940, Helen, then known as Shirley Parker started at Kilbreda in Gr. 4. She was not known to me then but later we became good friends especially as we lived quite close.

In 1942 I was in Proficiency which replaced Gr. 8 but had fallen behind because of the change of schools and a different curriculum, There was one highlight for me though. We learnt Commercial Principles and Practice ( Book-keeping). I did well in the latter, gaining 98 out of 100. One mark was taken off for not writing in the year, and another for omitting the full-stop after an abbreviated month name. Although I did Intermediate the following year I struggled at school from thence onwards. I failed my Leaving Certificate in 1945 and in the first term of 1946 Mother Margaret Mary Bourke suggested that I enter the Novitiate where Srs. Veronica Quinn and Monica Burke were studying for their Leaving Certificate.

We sat for the exams at the end of that year at Kildara, Malvern and passed our 4 subjects each.

It was 25^th March, the feast of Our Lady’s Annunciation and there was a Mission on at St. Patrick’s Church and we Kilbreda girls went to the nine o’clock Mass. I had already been to the 7 o’clock Mass with Dad and as things panned out, I felt convinced that Mary had interceded for me that day. In the afternoon, I had made my usual visit to the chapel and when I came out Mother Margaret Mary met me and walked me down to the playground .

On the way she told me to go home and tell my parents that she had suggested that I should enter the convent. They then had to go to Malvern for an interview with the Provincial.

I left school at Easter 1946. Pat and a few of her working companions were having a few days’ holiday in Kallista, in the Dandenongs, so it was arranged that I should go too. I remember that we were bush – walking on Holy Saturday but watching the clock because at 12 noon Lent ended and we could eat lollies, having gone without them for the whole of Lent.

I entered the Novitiate on Sunday, 26^th May, the day the nuns came off their annual retreat. Mum, Dad, Pat and I had our usual roast-dinner, then Pat went to play tennis. I was somewhat put out that she was not accompanying me to Malvern, but she must have decided that it was a better way to cope with her emotions. Mother and Dad took me and for the first time in my life I saw tears in my Father’s eyes as we said our good – byes. Mum’s emotions were much more obvious. Years later I realized what a big wrench it must have been for my parents — their youngest child leaving them at only 17. They had made the sacrifice. I was fulfilling an ambition.

Photo as a Postulant seems to have disappeared.

I was very home-sick for a long time. In the first fortnight I resolved many times to go home but the first visiting Sunday was, by far, the worst experience — yet I stayed.

Novitiate training consisted of learning about Scripture, particularly the New Testament; being introduced to Spiritual Reading (some of which contained amazing stories of monks and the practices in monasteries) and a study of the Vows and Brigidine Constitutions. Each day someone would read aloud the life of a Saint or the history of the foundation of a Religious Order and we had Points of Meditation in the evening, to help us with our Morning Meditation. We gathered in the Chapel for Rosary, a visit to the Blessed Sacrament and the Office of the Blessed Virgin Mary, later changed to Morning and Evening Prayer of the Church – a version of the Divine Office recited by priests each day.

There was always sewing to be done, as we made each other’s habits for Reception and Profession and for new-comers. I learnt to operate a sewing machine by using large pieces of lined paper and making lines of holes. It wasn’t long before I advanced to creating Choir cloaks, which we wore on special feast-days and to making forehead bands for the Mother General when she visited from Ireland. Each day we had time for playing tennis or basketball at recreation time in the afternoon when the Kildara students had gone home and we could use their courts. In the evening at 8.15 we had another period of singing and dancing or walking up and down the Kildara hall before Night Prayer and bed. During the Christmas holidays, when time “hung on our hands” the Novice Mistress would decide that we should have a short course on something different. I remember that one year she taught us Calculus. We were not free to read books of our own choice, so she decided on something and we all sat up to “Winnie the Pooh” or such like meanwhile we darned our stockings or did fancy-work. Most of our time was spent in silence, speaking only when necessary. On special days we would have what we called “recreation” or “talk.” I believe that this was the reason that after living together for nearly three years, we hardly knew each other.

I found the Novitiate training hard as I was constantly afraid of making a mistake. Added to this I had some health problems which necessitated one shorter and another longer period of time in hospital, hence my novitiate was extended by three weeks. I received the Religious Habit on 6^th January, 1947 in the Malvern Chapel at a 6.30 a.m. Mass. No public ceremony and no dressing up as a Bride, as some had in later years. In the afternoon I was allowed to have a visit from my family. Frank said that I spent most of the time pushing up the stiff forehead band that we wore, it being a very hot day.

In the second year of the Novitiate, I began my Teacher-training. We had to study Theory of Teaching, and as well, observe others teaching and give lessons to either the Kildara students or those from St. Joseph’s Primary. My first lesson was such a disaster that I had to give it again the next day. I was petrified and stood glued to the front desk instead of standing on the platform and using the blackboard. I didn’t know exactly what I was doing and I’m sure the children didn’t either.

I was professed on 15^th February, 1949 again in the convent chapel, but not so early in the day. On this occasion too, I had a visit from the family. I know that Kevin and his young family were there and Pat, but I’m not sure about Frank or Jack. This photo shows me standing with my parents on either side outside the Malvern Chapel. The next day I was taken out to the Albert Park convent, where I would live for three years and I began my teaching career at St. Joseph’s School, Port Melbourne under the supervision of Mother Loreto Brennan. My first year of training had been done, whilst in the novitiate observing and giving lessons in front of Mother Rose Meehan at St. Joseph’s School, Malvern. In my first year at Port Melbourne, I taught Preps. , Gr. 4, the second year and Gr. 6 in the following year when I also gave my final lesson and received the Certificate of Registration as a Teacher.

During the years I was at Albert Park most of us slept on the balcony, covered by a tarpaulin in the wet, wintry weather. We walked to and from school each day, hail, rain or shine, carrying our school books. On Sundays we went down to the Port Melbourne church and sat behind the children who came to the nine o’clock Mass. Similarly, on the first Friday of the month, in winter time, in the dark, we went to the 7.30 a.m. Mass, returning to the school for our breakfast before the majority of students arrived for class.

Funds for the school were meagre so concerts and displays of Physical Education & Dancing, were the norm, to show off what the children, or some of them, could do and to raise funds. Mother Anthony Byrne was in charge of the performances and would sometimes spend the day at the hall, sending for other children from time to time.

I was still in training as a religious — on temporary vows for three years, so I had special instructions on the first Sunday of each month, which was also a day of silence when we “prepared for death.” Immediately before Final Profession — Perpetual Vows we went back to the novitiate for a three days’ Retreat, given by the Novice Mistress. Mine was a nightmare!! No chance of defending oneself in this Court of Law. In 1950, my Uncle Tim, the Dean of Kyneton was celebrating the Golden Jubilee of his Ordination to the Priesthood. Many of the nuns knew him or knew of him and surprisingly I was allowed to go, accompanied, of course, by a senior sister, Mother Benedict Rourke. After Mass, dinner was served in the deanery, but we nuns could not join the other relatives . We were shown in to a parlour where my aunt, a Sister of St. Joseph and her companion and we two Brigidines, were given our meal. We were able to join the crowd when everyone drank a toast to him. Ten years later, I also attended his Diamond Jubilee.

At this time, Helen Parker had entered and was due for Reception. I was very happy to be asked to be the Cross-Bearer at the ceremony. When I entered in 1946, she approached my mother to buy the uniform coat we had — a fawn gabardine with a green collar. I said later, that I must have left the seed of a vocation in the coat pocket. Our paths did not cross for many years after this, but she was desperately ill in the Mercy Hospital in 1966 and I went to visit her. On the way home I thought that I would never see her again and this saddened me very much. However she recovered and at the end of that year when she was holidaying at Mentone, her father died quite suddenly. I can remember spending time with her hoping to console and support her. At the end of 1949, whilst still in Albert Park and on Temporary Vows, I had my 21^st birthday. We did not receive letters or have visitors in December, because it was Advent, a time of penance, similar to Lent, but in preparation for Christmas. Somehow, arrangements must have been made between my Mother and the Superior, because during the morning I was told that I had a visitor. What a surprise it was when I found that Pat was there with flowers, a cake and messages from my parents!

On the day of my Final Profession, I left Melbourne for Kyabram. Kevin drove a Holden F J and Mother and Dad accompanied me. As we drove out of the Malvern gate, the traffic was halted and there was a minute’s silence following the death of King Edward in 1952. It was a boiling hot day, but at some hotel or other, a glass of water was brought out to me as I sat in the car. No counter-lunches or cups of tea or coffee, not even an ice-cream in those days “outside the refectory”.

I taught Grs.7 & 8 at St. Augustine’s School for one year. Mother Leonard Ryan was in charge of the school but that year she took Grs. 5&6; Mother Laurence McKeown taught Grs. 3&4 in a clubroom and Mother Augustine Ring had the Infants. Each week we had Benediction on Friday and the children of my grade were expected to sing. After some months, I suggested that we might have a Boys’ choir singing one week and a Girls’ choir the next. This idea was not acceptable as the boys cleaned up the schoolyard and suchlike whilst the girls had singing practice. In the 1990’s I had a phone call from a boy who had been in that class, telling me that he had played tennis ever since I taught him and he loved it. I couldn’t imagine having done so, wearing a long habit and complete head-dress.

On Saturday afternoons we went out to Tongala to teach the children their Catechism and on Sunday mornings, except for the first Sunday of the month, we would accompany the Priest who went out to the country churches and teach the children after Mass. It made it a long morning for them and they were not always enthusiastic about learning.

In 1953 I was moved to Echuca, a boarding school, where I lived whilst teaching at St. Mary’s Primary in Grs 4 & 5. Mother Thecla was in charge of the school and taught Grs. 6, 7& 8. Mother Veronica Quinn had 2 & 3, the classes for First Confession and Communion and Mother Joan McGregor the Infants and Gr.1.

In the second year I was there, Mother Philip Guiton replaced Mother Thecla who was moved to the secondary school. Mother Celestine, who was Superior of the house, was keen that I should do another Leaving Certificate subject, so she tutored me on Geography which I passed at the end of the year. The Secondary School was part of the Convent so there were a number of sisters engaged in teaching those students. We, who taught at St. Mary’s, relieved these nuns from the responsibility of the boarders by doing “duty” at meal times, study and putting the girls to bed. I remember one occasion when whoever was ringing the “getting up” bell in the morning, mistook the time and rang it at 4.30 a.m. instead of 5.30 a.m. in the middle of winter. The discrepancy was not noticed until we had finished our prayers but there was still an hour to wait for the priest to come and offer Mass.

We soon warmed ourselves by sweeping, mopping or dusting in that hour instead of after Mass. There was also a fire in the hedge on Good Friday. As was usual, we had a big clean-up that day, in preparation for the Blessing of the House the next day. Someone had set fire to a heap of leaves near the Cyprus hedge which had caught fire. There was a shed nearby in which paint had been stored following the repainting of the Chapel . We were lucky that it didn’t catch fire too.

From there I was moved in 1955 to Mentone and travelled each day to the Cheltenham station and walked to Centre Dandenong Road, to teach in Our Lady of the Assumption School, with Mother Mercedes Brown. Each Friday, with the aid of the children we moved all the desks on to the verandah so that the building could be used as a Church on Sunday. If our luck was in, the desks had been put back by the men of the parish but often it was necessary to find the right desk for the right position before class on Monday morning,

In the community at Mentone, lived those who taught in Kilbreda, which was a boarding school, and those who taught in the Parish Primary Schools of the area, namely Mentone, Mordialloc, Cheltenham, Beaumaris, Parkdale and later Aspendale, making a very large group.

I was the convent sacristan that year, so Saturday was spent cleaning the chapel and in the afternoon cleaning the brass vases and doing the flowers. If the phone rang at about 2.00 p.m. I could almost guarantee it would be my mother ringing to speak to me. She kept me up to date with all the family news.

During the Christmas holidays, when the boarders had all gone home, their dormitories became the bedrooms for many visiting sisters from the country convents. On Sunday afternoon they would have their relatives and friends to visit. We young nuns were kept busy answering the doorbell and when we caught our breath, taking trays of afternoon tea to the visitors in the parlours. Change-over day, as we called it, when the first batch of visitors left and another lot came, was chaotic, Cases needed to be brought downstairs and the sisters to be farewelled. On one occasion I remember that the wrong case went to the wrong destination.

The highlight of these holidays was that we could go to the beach for a swim after breakfast, which was always a formal meal of chops and eggs.

In 1956 Mother Canisia and I were both moved from Mentone to Malvern- she to Kildara and I was made Principal, for the first time, of St. Joseph’s Primary. I found this a daunting task, having had only seven years of teaching experience with different levels each year. Added to this, in those days, we got our Grade Readers and Arithmetic books from the Education Department via the local State School. These were ordered prior to the close of school the previous year, but the order had been overlooked, so the pupils were without these books until half way through the first term. I taught Grs. 7 & 8 girls only, most of the boys having gone to De La Salle after Gr. 3. Although the school was next to the Convent, we were not allowed to stay there after 4.00 p.m. or to return during the week-end to prepare blackboards, aids or those little jobs that needed to be done whilst the children were not there.

One year, just before the First Communion Day, I was told on a Saturday evening at 5.30 p.m. that I would be going to our convent in Sale on the following morning.

Someone else had to step in and organise things and take my class while I filled in for Mother Teresita King who had developed pneumonia. I stayed for six weeks, until she recovered.

After two years, I was again moved. This time to Ardeer, a Migrant settlement, where a new Parish had been started and schools opened to accommodate the children. Our school, Mother of Sorrows, was across the railway line from the convent, but as there was no crossing. We had to be driven to school through Sunshine to what was then called Sunshine Heights, later West Sunshine. Mother Maurus drove us, sometimes in a ute belonging to the parish. In the one school building was a Kindergarten (1 room and a playground); a Girls’ Secondary (Marian); a Tuck Shop; 3 Primary classrooms and 2 rooms occupied by a Boys’ College — 3 Principals under the same roof. The main nationality of our pupils was Maltese with one Australian family by the name of D’Arugo. Our playground, apart from a strip of concrete adjacent to the classrooms, was a quagmire in winter, with reddish clay which stuck to one’s shoes, or a dustbowl in summer with not a tree in sight. The roads were unmade both in Ardeer and Sunshine West and there was no sewerage. We needed to wear galoshes over our shoes after wet weather and one day as I walked down to Forrest Street to catch the bus into Sunshine, my galoshes stayed in the mud and my shoe came out, the galoshes filling with mud.

Mother Stephanie O’Neill was our Superior and I found her very approachable. In fact it was the first time, since I entered, that I had been able to speak to a senior sister, with ease. She had a common-sense, no nonsence way about her. I was House Bursar whilst there and in my over conscientious approach to keeping the books, I expected change back from money given out for travel. Her reaction to that was “Elizabeth, don’t be tight.” She and a few others liked to play cards at night and I believe she followed the horses. She was good fun! When TV was introduced, she won our hearts by hiring a set for us to watch during the Christmas school holidays.

One Sunday at Mass, the priest told the people that as he went around visiting their homes, he had noticed that they had fowls and gardens and he urged them to be generous to the sisters. Shortly afterwards, a girl came to our door with some towels and she said that her mother wanted to know if we would like the material instead of the pyjamas. We concluded that they had interpreted fowls as towels and gardens as pyjamas. The parishioners who were in a position to do so were extremely generous. We would receive huge jars of pickled cucumbers (many of which were buried in the backyard) and a special cake that the Polish people liked. There were many Poles and Ukrainians in Ardeer., In fact these were the main nationalities among the children of the Mother of God school where Mother Bernedicta Harney was the Principal and which was situated across the road from the convent.

After three years at Ardeer, I was again on the move, this time back to Mentone where I was made Principal of St. Patrick’s School in 1960. I was a teaching principal with 81 in Grs. 7 & 8 and 560 pupils in the school. These were the days of very large classes and the gradual introduction of lay-teachers on our staff. At first they were not paid or had to wait until the Parish Priest felt like paying them. It was a very embarrassing situation. My sister, Pat, filled in for me when one of our teachers left. She was untrained, but did a very good job with the Gr. 3 she had. Many years later, she returned to be the School Secretary, still without pay, until Mother Aidan Hunt set the record straight.

Another very good teacher was Mrs. Phelan who had Grade 4. You could hear her from anywhere in the school, but she drilled her class in Spelling, Tables etc., and had every student reading well. The children really loved her even though she was strict. She spent many years there after I had moved on and taught my nephew, Marcus at the time Pat was School secretary.

Mother Stephanie had moved from Ardeer the previous year, so she was at Mentone when I came. She had had a brush with cancer while she was in Ardeer and several bouts of Asthma, some very frightening, during her time at Kilbreda. She had much pleasure in learning to drive during those years, some of our restrictions having been lifted. She would find any excuse for practising her driving and on a particular occasion when my father had to go to hospital and the ambulance had not arrived, she came to our home and drove, Dad, Mum and myself to the Mordialloc Hospital. On a similar occasion, when my mother was not managing very well on account of failing eye-sight, she told me to go home and be with her for as long as she needed me. This was long before we had been able to spend one day a year at home. She was certainly “a woman before her time”.

Dad died on 19th June, 1965 after about two weeks in hospital. During the day I had been with him at different intervals and again at night I went to see him. Several of the nuns had also called in during the time we were at his bedside. When he had gone, Frank drove me back to the convent after mid-night and to my amazement I found Mother Paulinus and Mother Stephanie still up, waiting for my return. I was very impressed by their kindness in doing this and grateful for their loving support. That was 19^th June, 1965. His Requiem was celebrated in St. Patrick’s Church on a very wet day. Unfortunately, my mother was not able to be present. We think that she may have had slight stroke whilst Dad was in hospital. Anyhow, as the funeral went along Balcombe Rd., to the New Cheltenham Cemetery, the hearse stopped for a minute or two, outside our home so that she could say “good — bye”.

The children of St. Pat’s senior classes were expected to provide the singing for the Holy Thursday night Mass. I could teach them anything I knew myself, but as it was the time of changes to the Liturgy, following Vatican II, I was flying blind. Paulinus would take me to her music-room on Saturday afternoon or Sunday, play the chant s, hymns etc. and I would learn to sing them then go back to school and teach the children. After a couple of years, I began to have some time out of the classroom to attend to running the school. Mrs. Maureen Duffy, a former teacher, who lived on Mentone, came and took my grade for Maths on 2 days of the week, which meant I then had 2 hours to attend to the business part of school management. She was a treasure.

On a weekly basis, we had visiting teachers for Physical Education, Singing and Verse-speaking. Mrs. Noela Bartlett taught the latter and she would put the children in for Eisteddfods each year. She would take the boys and girls separately – the boys from Gr. 6 coming upstairs to join with 7 & 8’s and the girls going down to the Gr. 6 teacher. Sr. Brenda (Helen Lynch) could never remember who went where, so that boys would come when the girls were expected and vice versa. She would roar laughing when the mistake was made and race downstairs to get the right ones. But it was a happy time for them all and they usually did very well in the competitions even the Verse-speaking.

During Mother Stephanie’s time a beautiful new chapel was built on what had been a tennis court, adjacent to the Colonade. The resident Chaplain from St. Bede’s would give us Mass on Sunday mornings. He loved to have singing, so Mother Paulinus gathered us all together to form a Nuns’ choir. I remember a Christmas Mid-night Mass, when we sang “Low how a Rose e’re Blooming” and “Adeste Fideles” in 4 parts. Loretta Brennan, Margaret Cassidy, Pauline O’Callighan, Marie Titford and the like were in the community at the time, so there was plenty of talent.

So far I had not lived with many of my Novitiate companions so it was good to be with Catherine Malone and Kevin Walsh for a time. We who went out to the Primary schools each day had our dinner kept for us to have at night. I can remember wishing that I could have the tasty things that were served at the evening meal, instead.

At St. Pat’s there was a midday Mass on Wednesdays which the children attended. My parents used to be at the Mass too, so after the children had returned to school, I would go around to the other side of the Church and join my parents as they conversed with their friends. I know they enjoyed that little “rendezvous”.

In 1962, while I was still living in Mentone my parents’ Golden Wedding was approaching. The family had discussed briefly how they would like to celebrate it but were unsure as to whether or not I would be able to be present. When I brought up the subject with Mother Stephanie she said at once “Why don’t you have it here”? So we had a Mass in the old Kilbreda Chapel and the party in the Boarders’ Dining Room. Some of Mum and Dad’s bridal party were present. Unfortunately, Pat was not able to be with us as she was pregnant and living in Heathmere, Western District and the doctor thought it inadvisable for her to travel. Before Leone was born, she had had a little boy, Brian, who was brain-damaged at birth and had lived only three and a half years. My sister-in-law, Kath, had come to help me with the decorations for the big day on the previous night.

In 1966, Mother Paulinus was moved to Echuca. It was a big disappointment to me as we had become very good friends, sharing our families as well as ourselves. I accompanied her to the station, to see her off on the first stage of her journey there. Soon after my return to the convent I received a phone call from Pat, in which she told me that Frank and Mary’s only son Patrick, had been killed in an accident in Lilydale. He was only 17 and was working with a Printer for just three weeks. This was 26^th Jan. I was devastated and felt so alone hearing such sad news.

Towards the end of my time at St. Patrick’s I was experiencing difficulties with my eyes. Glaucoma had been diagnosed by my Eye Specialist, Dr. Edward Ryan, but after five years of applying drops six times a day, he decided he would operate. This was in September, but the surgery was postponed until the Christmas School holidays. Towards the end of January, having heard nothing from the hospital, enquiries were made and I was admitted. In those days, following the surgery, you had to lie still in bed – a week for each eye.

Frank and Mary’s eldest daughter, Margaret was married in January, 1967 and she and her new husband, Anthony Senserrick came to visit me on the afternoon of their wedding day. What a pleasant surprise and a great joy! When I went home to Mentone, the sisters were very attentive to my needs. I remember that Mother Winifred Nihill read to me each day and even darned my stockings. It was not long afterwards that she died very suddenly. We had, in fact, gone in to hospital on the same day. Her last days had been filled with acts of kindness.

The eye surgery and recovery, had meant that I did not take up my appointment as Principal of St. John Vianney’s, North Springvale until the school year was well in progress. The Church and School had been opened by Fr. Noel Coghlan as part of the Springvale Parish. He had given Sr. Phillipa an old Holden F.J. car to get to school so that was to be my means of transport too. I had not yet learned to drive, so that was to be my next achievement. After gaining my driver’s licence, I took on the task of driving to school each day, which meant nosing my way through the intersection of Princes Highway, Springvale Road and Centre Road to get to Police Road. There were no lights at that time. Now in 2010 there are extra turning lanes and about ten sets of lights. By the time I arrived in North Springvale, the Oblate Fathers had taken on the management of the Parish and were building a Seminary for their students in Jacksons Road. I hadn’t long been at the school, when I was asked by the Gr. 6 boys, what football team I barracked for. I had little or no interest in the V.F. L. previously, but knew that some of our sisters were one-eyed Collingwood supporters, so I asked what was the next best team and a chorus of voices said “Essendon, sister!” so I adopted them as my team. The area was developing and the parish and school were endeavouring to keep up. Every year while I was there, we added, at least, one other classroom, with the result that sometimes our Prep-graders had only a half day of school in the 1^st term. Being a fairly new parish, there were young families at the school, their mothers helping in the Tuck shop – people like Joyce Neil, Deidre Reid, Mary Smith and Edna Maher. Peg Grady was the Parish Secretary and her office and the Nuns’ room, which I used for my office, were next to one another, so we often talked. I believe it was she who helped to broaden my vision of life.

At that time we were trying to come to terms with Renewal in Religious Life. Community meetings were introduced and modifications of the habit were being considered. We had fewer restrictions on our time, opportunities to visit homes, see our families and be involved in social events associated with the school.

Theology lectures were now being offered on a Saturday morning, in the Cathedral Hall in Brunswick Street, East Melbourne, so a group of us would attend. Prior to that time, if we had Principals’ or other meetings with the Catholic Education Office personnel, you would see all the Brigidines seated in one row; Presentations in another; Mercies in yet another and so on, hardly speaking to each other, but gradually the scene changed and we began to interact more and enjoyed meeting up on these and similar occasions.

On a designated date, we could appear in shortened habits and show our hair underneath the veil. I was very nervous of appearing in front of my Gr. 6 class in the “new fashion.” I heard later from Edna Maher that her daughter had expressed surprise at me having grey hair. She was quick with the remark, “So would your mother, if she didn’t die it .

After only one year at Springvale, it was decided by Mother Carmela, the Provincial, that I should live in Clayton whilst teaching at Nth. Springvale. So I still drove to school but via a different route. After breakfast each morning, I would fire up the Holden FJ and leave it running while I cleaned my teeth and made my bed so that when I got into it to drive to school, it wouldn’t konk out on the way.

To keep the School and Parish afloat a very big Fete was organized each year, by parents and friends in the area. Children from the school would put on some kind of a Display on the Friday evening to encourage parents to come and spend, then it would go on for some hours and all day and into the evening of Saturday. The cake stall was a big attraction — the ladies kept up a constant supply of home-made cakes and biscuits. As soon as they were put down on the counter, they would be whipped up by eager buyers, some of whom were the priests and students from the Oblate Seminary. If there was anything left over, it was sold at a reduced price, on Sunday morning after Mass. These fetes usually made 60 -70 thousand dollars and became quite popular over the years.

In the January of 1971, the whole Province was invited to take part in a week’s live-in Renewal of Religious Life seminar at Harrietville. We had talks at least twice a day and many group discussions

Although it was summertime, the weather was very cold. We even had heaters on, and those who had only brought summer clothes,” froze.

Photo of the group at Harrietville

In the next year we were well into changing our appearance and making other changes as well. I relished the opportunity that was given for us to pray where and when it suited us. Up till then, after Morning Prayer, we stayed in the Chapel and made a Meditation for half an hour. On many of these occasions, I would nod off to sleep as it was 6.30a.m.

This was the time too when we could have white dresses (calf length) and white veils in the summer. I spent quite a lot of my free time cutting out and sewing up the new outfit. Towards the end of that year Catherine and Daryl were to be married, so there was an added urgency as, by now we were allowed to attend weddings and funerals of our relations. I had a bad cold which turned into Bronchitis as I strained to have everything ready. I know I was very sick on the day of the wedding and came home straight afterwards, to my bed.

At St. John Vianney’s I had been able to have more release rime for managing the school. Again I was fortunate enough to have Mrs. Patricia Gallagher as my relief Teacher. She took my Gr.6 class, giving me time to supervise an inexperienced teacher and a non- Catholic who taught the Preps. I usually called in to see the ladies who serviced the Tuck Shop and attended to orders for supplies and paying the bills. Other Brigidines who were on the staff during these years were, Anne Boyd, Rosemarie Joyce and Mar,y Braken, (Sr. Baptist at the time.)

I have a vivid memory of the day Man was to walk on the Moon. That morning, or the day before, parents and teachers were offering to have a class in their home so that the children could see the event. My class went into the Parish House where they were crammed together into quite a small room. I know we had a long wait for something to happen, so they became very restless. But it was all worthwhile when the time came. It goes without saying that we had no television in the school in those days.

By this time I had realized that there were many teachers, Religious and Lay, who had been much better trained at Teachers’ Colleges, so I made it known to those in charge, that I would like to have a change. The opportunity of going to the Assumption Institute of Spirituality was offered to me and I, of course, accepted. It was soul-wrenching to have to say good-bye to so many of my co-workers and parents of the children and to let go of being in charge, but the time was right.

In 1973 I lived in Malvern and drove on all days but Monday to St. John’s East Melbourne where the Assumption Institute had a large room, a smaller annex room and kitchen facilities. Sr. Dorothea Pini was the Director, but we had both priests and religious of other Orders who came to instruct us. There were lectures in Liturgy, Scripture, Church History, Spirituality, Theology etc. given on a daily/weekly basis . Some assignments were set but we also had plenty of time for discussion. Occasionally we visited some convent for Mass and to put into practice some of what we learnt about celebrating Liturgy. Mondays were devoted to good works of some kind, like hospital or parish visitation ; feeding the hungry at Refuges; St. Vincent de Paul work, visiting people who lived in High Rise accommodation etc. Mother Chanel was working in the Diocesan Office organizing the forthcoming Eucharistic Congress, so I would drive her in to East Melbourne on Mondays and sometimes take others to their appointments or visit Mother Dolores who was in a Nursing Home. During this year too, we had a live-in Retreat at the Josephite Convent, Mt, Eliza.

At the Assumption Institute with me were 3 other Brigidines, Carmel Quirk, Agnes Lying and Emmanuel Halleur. The latter also lived in the Malvern community, so we travelled there together. Members of other Orders, were Queensland and New Zealand Mercies and three Melbourne Sisters of Mercy; a Loreto Sister, Good Shepherd Sisters and one Josephite. One sister came from Tonga, but I have forgotten her Order. There was a Blue Sister (Little Company of Mary) and a Poor Clare — a branch of Franciscans.

Prior to the end of our year’s course, the decision was made to move the Institute to the large Novitiate building owned by the Sisters of Mercy, in Rosanna. We all did our bit, packing up and moving things from St. John’s to Rosanna.

Our Graduation Mass, at the end of the year, was held in the Parish Church in McLeod.

Some personalities really “clicked” during that year and friendships were forged, Sr. Immaculata Steedman and I have been very good friends ever since.

In the next year I was appointed Superior of our convent in Horsham, Carmel Quirk was the Principal of the primary school, St. Michael’s and St. John’s and we shared a class as both of us needed time off, she, to attend to the running of the school and me, to look after the needs of the community.

There was girl in our Grade 6 who could not read. She, unfortunately, could not attempt to sound out new words or recognise the common words like “and” and “the.” I had never met anything like that before and found myself quite unable to help her, so when my term of 3 years was up and Mother Perpetua asked me what I would like to do when I returned to Melbourne, I told her the story. In no time, she rang me back and suggested that I do a course at Burwood State College, called Special Education, the emphasis being on Learning Disabilities.

On one afternoon a week, I went out to the Parish School in Murtoa, which had previously had a Brigidine as Principal, but was now in the charge of a young Lay Principal. I would give some R.E. lessons but otherwise support this teacher.

Whilst in Horsham, I was introduced to the beauties of the Grampians, the Little Desert, Hall’s Gap, Rose’s Gap, Green Lake etc. and frequently drove to Melbourne via Ararat, where we were always warmly welcomed by our Brigidine Sisters. Mother Dara and I occasionally had Eye Specialists’ appointments so we would drive to Melbourne together. We both enjoyed music, so a tape-recorder went with us. We usually had a stop at Ballarat for a cup of tea or sometimes, a meal. After I left Horsham she either wrote it in a letter or told me when we met, “We go to Melbourne in one breath, now.” She had some very quaint sayings like, “ Come and rest your face and hands.” I think we both missed each other when we parted. Not long after arriving in Horsham, I celebrated the Silver Jubilee of my Profession and I remember that she purchased a lovely silver coloured clock for me and a silver engraved biro. We had a picnic in the bush as part of the celebration and there was a very elaborate cake to be cut later in the day.

Father Roger Shepherd was the P.P. during my time there, but I think it was I, not he, who introduced singing into the Liturgy. Mrs Clare Dalton, Mary’s mother had been the organist but had “retired”. However, with little persuasion, she came back, so she played the organ and I led the singing. This was to encourage the congregation to sing, but they were somewhat reluctant. If asked, I’m sure they would have said, “We don’t do that here!” When Kathleen Desmond started having singing lessons from Mrs. Dalton, she also took up leading the singing at Sunday Mass and continued after I had gone.

One of the unexpected joys of my time in Horsham was the occasion on which Pat came to visit with Marc and Leone. They travelled by train, which was a new experience for the children. I drove them out to the Grampians for a picnic, but while they enjoyed seeing the kangaroos and koalas, Mare was quite unimpressed by all the mud. He probably had never had his shoes dirty before, living in Mentone where streets were paved and school playgrounds asphalted.

In 1977, I lived in our Hawthorn community and travelled by tram to Wattle Park then walked to Burwood Hwy. where the college was situated. This was a completely new venture for me, going to a secular institute with people of different backgrounds and attending lectures for which assignments were required. I found it somewhat daunting meeting all these strangers and becoming acquainted with the procedures like gathering resource materials, sifting through information and recording where the information was found. I had no confidence in my ability to write long essays until I did a book review and received quite a good mark. Later on I did a Research Article and was highly commended for it, the lecturer asking if he might have a copy. The positives eventually overcame the negatives and I was even able to accept being the “butt” of some of the jokes — my photo being taken on a motorbike belonging to one of the students, dressed in less formal garb, but still wearing a veil. We had teaching rounds to various schools with the lecturers coming to observe us. One highlight for me, was that a teacher I had at North Springvale, Mrs. Patricia Gallagher, was doing the same course.

At the end of the year, there was a Graduation ceremony held in the Robert Blackwood Hall of Monash University. We hired gowns for this and were presented with our Diploma of Special Education Certificates. My sister, Pat was able to be present, together with several members of the community.

Photo of Pat and myself

Following the Course, we were expected to gain more experience in a Special Education Unit run by the Education Department. I was assigned to Geelong and went each day along with another teacher employed in that capacity, to visit schools in the area, testing children to find out what might be their problem and offering solutions to teachers. The staff of the S.E.U. consisted of three male teachers, one other girl and me. My companion on these rounds was a very nice man who was like a big “teddy-bear” with thick hair and a beard. He was a Lutheran who had this lovely Prayer for Motorists on the dashboard of his car. I asked him for a copy and still say it quite often when I start a journey.

When I heard the news of my move to Geelong, I was overjoyed as I knew Sr. Immaculata was living at the Mercy Convent in Newtown. We were able to keep up our friendship from 1973 and she took me to her home which was in MacKillop St., where I met her parents who always made me very welcome sharing their stories and friends with me.

About that time, 1978, I think, during the Christmas school holidays five of us, made a 30 day Retreat at St Mary’s Oblate Seminary, Mulgrave. There were Helen Parker, Miriam Liston, Brigida Nailon, Elizabeth McGovern and myself. Our Director was a Fr. Parker S.J. (no relation to Helen) and beside our times of personal prayer, we had a meeting with him each day. There were two days “off” during this time and on one of these, some of us went into the city to see a film. On the other day, I remember, I went to Mentone to visit Pat and her family.

When school resumed at the beginning of that year, I was employed by the Catholic Education Department, to continue my work in Special Education by visiting Catholic Primary Schools. I missed the support and professional sharing that I had experienced in the previous year. Also, I imagine the Principals and Staffs of these schools had not been prepared for the kind of work I was expected to do. My personal aim had been to help children, like the girl in my class in Horsham, but the course I had done, geared me in to being a consultant to teachers. This trend neither suited my personality nor my previous training in teaching so I felt somewhat “out of my depth.” Being only a casual visitor to the schools, meant that I was not informed of school events like Sports’ days or Excursions, so I often arrived at the school to find that the child I was to see, was not there. My schedule was such that I could not go somewhere else, because they would not be expecting me. I found these arrangements very frustrating and I became very dissatisfied, so it was not surprising that in 1979, I went to live in Wangaratta.

There I was to continue with Special Education, but on the staff of St. Bernard’s Primary. There were certainly some children there who needed extra help, so I took groups for reading and on two mornings during the week, assisted the Librarian. A few teachers saw the need of what I was doing and welcomed me into their classrooms or discussed their pupils’ needs with me. Anne Bussell was one of these and two others whose names escape me. . Mary Scalzo was on the staff as a Teachers’ Aide at the time and she was often around the staff room where I prepared or corrected work when I had no pupils. I remember on one particular occasion, there was a social event to raise money for the school and Mary was asked to organise the food. On that day the staff — room became a kitchen and she had all of us, after school, making Spaghetti Bolognaise. Some mixed the pasta dough; some cooked it; others rolled it out (with special equipment) or shredded it, whilst still others, supervised by Mary, made the sauce and prepared the dishes. We had an hilarious time but somehow the job got done. Maybe some were completely turned off Spaghetti Bolognaise for life !

I was happy to be living in Wangaratta because my brother, Jack, his wife, Edna and some of the family were still living there. I did not have the use of a car, so on a few occasions, I cycled down to their home in South Wangaratta. Any time that I visited their home, the family members were expected to be there, to come and see me and have something to say, then, their duty done, they could go off and do whatever they wanted.

My life was in somewhat of a turmoil in those days. Fear had taken a hold of me and I began to lose interest in some things. I think I was lonely or something but I felt miserable. I was very tempted to leave Religious Life. The one thing that kept me going was my private prayer in the chapel each night. I was usually alone and felt that I could pour out my worries to God often in the form of tears. When the Provincial, Maria Guinan came on Visitation, I made my problem known. She said she would get in touch with someone who would counsel me and let me know. Sure enough, she was true to her word and arranged for me to visit Fr. Watson O.F.M. whom I saw once a month. Fortunately this rough patch in my life, passed, and things became “normal” again , thanks to those who came to my aid.

One highlight of my time in Wangaratta, was the year Helen Parker, Miriam Liston, and I decided to spend our holidays in Sydney. Marcella Anderson was the Superior of the house and when I talked to her about it, she expressed the wish to come too. Helen was working in Hospital Ministry at the time and she had a car, so she and Miriam drove up from Melbourne. The next day, the four of us set out in the Wangaratta community car for Arncliffe where there was an empty Josephite Convent. Most days, after Mass in the Parish church, next door, we would get in the train and go into Sydney. We had a meal at the revolving restaurant overlooking the whole of the city and visited The Rocks. We went on a cruise of the harbour along with Anne Dunbar (R.LP.) who was doing a Course at Wahroonga at the time; took the Ferry to Manly, and had a day at Bondi Beach. We had a whole day’s excursion to the Pioneer Village in Gosford. On another day, we visited the Brigidines at Randwick. I had a cousin, a Sacre Coeur nun living in Kensington so I visited her, on my own, finding my way via several buses. All in all, we had a great time but I did not enjoy the humid weather. Sleeping at night was not so easy either — no air-conditioning in Convents in those days.

When I came back to Melbourne in 1981, Angela Ryan was Principal at Kilbreda, Mentone. She met with me one day and offered me a place in the school office. She wanted a Brigidine to meet people when they came with enquiries, so that their first impressions were of a Catholic School. There were two other ladies in the office at the time, Dianna Leyden and Beryl Hoffler. Together we photo-copied the Newsletter, folded and stapled and counted out the number of copies needed for each classroom. Those students who travelled to school by train needed an identification card, which was put in to little plastic envelopes. This too was one of our jobs. Angela also wanted the Student and Staff Records brought up to date, so I was assigned that task. I was now living in the Springvale community, for a second time and as two of the young teachers came from that area, we combined to travel together. Week about we would provide the car. I must have been a complete mystery to them, even though they had been at school at Killester. On our journey I would be plied with questions ranging from what I did at the week-end to the history of the Catholic Education system, about which they knew nothing at all. When Sr. Angela was made Provincial, Catherine Kelly became Principal at Kilbreda and she was followed by Mary Dalton. Mary did things very differently from Angela. I had had quite a lot to do with new enrolments to the College, especially the Yr. 7 intake even being given the task of interviewing some of the parents. As time went by and we had more Overseas students applying, the responsibility of sending them Enrolment Forms, Book-lists etc., fell to me. Many of those who applied never turned up and the similarity of names and whether the first name written was surname or given name, was sometimes hard to work out, but I liked the things I had to do.

As Provincial, Angela Ryan came around the communities and talked to each person about what her plans were for the future. I must have asked her if she would like the same kind of help in the Provincialate office, as I had been giving at Kilbreda. Formerly, people like Margaret Mary Bourke and Carmela Connell, had given some assistance in the office, but there had been nothing very regular. In 1987, I went to live in Malvern in the Provincial House with Moya Allman and Geraldine Hambling, to work in the office and on one day a week in the East Malvern Parish. My duties in the parish included, taking Communion to some of the housebound parishioners or those in Nursing Homes; attending Sunday Mass in the Parish and preparimg children from Catholic Secondary Schools for Confirmation, this Sacrament being given only once in three years per Parish. According to new trends, parents were being involved as much as possible in the Sacramental preparation, so I held meetings of parents as well as taking the children for some kind of religious/church experience. This idea did not go down well with the parents as they had previously left education in the faith to the schools, so it was hard work. We had occasional gatherings in some of the homes to try and shift the responsibility and a whole day, including a sausage sizzle for the children so that they would get to know each other as part of the Parish. In the current atmosphere I felt that the Rosary was of more importance to some people than the Mass. I became part of the choir but there was no chance of change there.

Back at the Provincialate I made up a file for each Sister in the Province, tried to sort out some of the papers, filing them. Angela had her own files but the more general ones came to me. Daily she would make a list of correspondence to be attended to; phone calls to be made etc., and she would let me know what times she would be available if anyone called. When community Annals were sent in, I filed these, but in some cases only an outline was given, so I would endeavour to put the information together. I was not the world’s greatest typist but had to do some of this on occasions. I kept up the supply of paper for photo-copying and stationery for the office and made sure there were stamps for the letters to be posted. Very occasionally, I drove Angela to the Airport if she had a flight to catch. Some of these trips were early in the morning, so getting there was easy but on the return trip I could be held up in the traffic when all the workers were on the road.

That was the year that Kevin became very ill and died. He was taken to the Alfred Hospital with symptoms of a heart-attack but was transferred to the Heidelberg Military Hospital because he was a returned soldier. Pat and I went to visit him there before I went to spend some of the September holidays in Traralgon with Sr. Paulinus. The opportunity arose to go to Lakes’ Entrance for a few days and it was there that I received the news of his death. Three of us set out for Melbourne that day so that I was back for his Mass and Funeral which were held at Holy Cross Church, South Caulfield. It was probably in November that I had a Mass offered for him in Malvern and relatives who attended, then came over to the Provincial House for refreshments.

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Later that year Angela asked me if I would like to go overseas to work in a Parish there for two years. Fortunately I was given time to think about it before I gave my answer. Neither Frank nor Jack was well at the time and Angela pointed out that she could not guarantee my return if either died. In the long run, with much apprehension, I accepted to take this great opportunity. Plans were put into circulation and eventually I left on 1st January, 1989 for Windsor in the U.K.

Thelma Murtagh and I left together. She was to go the Leeds and my destination was Clarence St., Windsor where there were four sisters living. One was an Australian from N.S.W. and the other three were Irish sisters. It took me a while to become accustomed to their accent and some of their quaint sayings. At Heathrow airport when our passports were checked Thelma got hers stamped for 2 years’ stay whilst mine was stamped for 1 year, even though we both had the same documents to present. We arrived at about 6 a.m. on a very cold and foggy morning. The leafless trees looked rather ghostly, as we drove back to Windsor. After a second breakfast, we had had one on the plane, we attended the 8 o’clock Mass in St. Edward’s Church, it being New Year’s Day on that side of the world. My feet and legs must have been swollen from the flight, because I found it quite difficult to stand and sit. I can still recall the pleasurable feeling of sinking into a warm, comfortable bed, following a lovely hot bath. I slept very soundly and awoke about 5.30 p.m. to find the house empty — the sisters having gone to the Church for Evening Devotions.

Next day I met with the P.P. Canon Hethering, to be assigned my duties. Mary Lacey had been there for the previous two years, so a pattern had been established. I can’t recall exactly what I was asked to do but I think, like “Topsy,” the ministry just “growed.”

Eventually I did much the same sorts of things as I had done in East Malvern, with the addition of the R,C.I.A. program; preparation of parents for Baptism of their children and Children’ Liturgy of the Word on Sundays. Finding my way to some of the homes to take Communion was a nightmare for a while until I found out more about the area. It was not unusual to drive through a narrow lane and find a whole housing estate open up before one’s eyes.

During my time in Windsor I was able to go places and see new things. I found it quite amazing, a few days after my arrival to walk through the shopping centre in Windsor and find myself confronted by the grey stone walls of the Castle. When there was an Open Day, we went into the Banquet Hall and some of the other rooms and saw the Doll’s House. We sat on chairs in the Moat Garden almost underneath the Tower bearing Queen Elizabeth II’s Standard which is flown when she is in residence. I was lucky enough to be invited to join the school children when they attended the procession for the Order of the Garter ceremony. The soldiers, in red coats and busbies formed a guard of honour from the Castle to St. George’s Chapel. Knights of the Tower were dressed on their red and gold uniforms and the members of the Royal Family, in very subdued colours on dark blue, walked past us on their way to the Chapel but then drove back after the ceremony, in open carriages accompanied by the Mounted Guard. Each school had a mid-term break of a week. On the first of these, Margaret Fingleton, Faye Kenny and I drove to Leeds. We left on the Friday afternoon after school, but had to turn back for some reason, so it was very dark when we arrived and not an easy job to find the Convent. We were greeted enthusiastically by the nuns and served supper. On this occasion , we also went to Tadcaster where Loretta Brennan was living and working with the Carmelite Fathers at their Retreat House. We had a day at Howarth , the home of the Bronte Family and actually saw the Parsonage but could not go inside. We visited York, especially Yorkminster and walked along the narrow cobbled streets where the houses overhung the street. In the second year of my stay in England, I again went to Leeds but this time by train and on my own. Thelma and I went into the city and I saw the Christmas decorations and lights, in the shops and on the streets in darkness – about 4 0 ‘clock in the afternoon.

Early in that year, I had a letter from my Mercy Sister friend, Immaculata, telling me that she had been asked to accompany one of their Sisters, Lucy on a trip to the Holy Land and Medjugore. I had already been to the Holy Land with Anita Murray (N.S.W. Brigidine) who was in Windsor for a while. I rang Maureen Minehan R.I.P., our Provincial at the time, and asked her if I could join the Tour which was being organized from Melbourne. I linked up with the group in May 1990. There would have been 40+ of us with Fr. Lou Herriet as our Chaplin and Guide. We travelled by coach from Rome, visiting places like Padua, Florence, Venice then through Trieste to the Dalmation Coast to Zagreb, Dubrovnick, where we had a little longer than usual stay, so we were glad to get some washing done.

We were accommodated in several different houses in Medjugore — people letting out rooms in their homes, to make some money. I was amazed to see how families existed with a cow or goat tethered and hens roaming around freely. Mass in the Parish Church was packed, but I was not favourably impressed by the Priest who preached very loudly, Hell-fire and damnation. Outside was a large area of Confessionals (a bit like horse-stalls) and wooden benches for the penitents. Confessions were heard in all different languages in these. When we visited the home of one of the girls who had experienced the Apparitions of Our Lady, the atmosphere was very different from that in the church. She spoke, through an interpreter of Peace, and returning to God through a good Confession and praying the Rosary.