From “Australia’s Foreign Wars: Origins, Costs, Future?!” http://www.anu.edu.au/emeritus/members/pages/ian_buckley/IKBhome.html Appendix N ‘Biography_AEB, Ian K Buckley If these reminiscences that deal with early lives from the 1920s and ‘30s appear somewhat ‘unworldly’, it should be remembered that they reflect the fact that then, for most Australians, there was scant if any realisation of the world beyond their immediate surroundings until well into adult life - in many cases persisting throughout. And as for any consciousness of what has long driven and still drives the world’s power-brokers at home and across the world, that came if at all very slowly indeed because most families lacked the means of knowing and most schools (though many claimed to be Christian) had no such learning programmes, nor even the insights for motivation. Hope I’m wrong, but I believe it may be little improved today. Born September 26, 1925, just 7 years after the end of the 'Great War', ("the war to end all wars") my earliest memories are of our house in Redesdale road Fairy Hills and my family, my mother, father, eldest brother Noel (born 1917, 7 years earlier) eldest sister Joan (born 1919) and Allan, who arrived in 1922, a little under 4 years ahead of me. Of course those memories, especially the earliest, are shrouded in mist, no more than fragmentary recollections. Being isolated images, unconnected events, - often not even set in proper sequence, - they allow but random glimpses through ‘memory's window’! My mother, very much the carer within the family, was a constant presence in all that went on. Always the concerned one, she saw to the provision of all our meals, our warmth, clothes, consolation following bumps and scrapes, ‘first-aid’ of all sorts and to sensible arbitration between brothers and sisters following disagreements - but always without 'taking sides' - simply trying to 'keep the peace' in as fair a way as possible. My father, although a good companion to my mother and very much the ample and conscientious provider of our material welfare was for this important task inevitably absent at work in his city office for much of the week. Partly for that, but no doubt for other reasons he was a much more distant person, more concerned with 'rules', discipline to be strictly applied, usually from a rather stern and, to me, forbidding distance. I can remember, however, the occasional and happy contact when, for example, on a Saturday afternoon, the time my father had friends in to play tennis, that during breaks between sets I would be given a ride on his knee - rocking action accompanied by "this is the way the farmer rides, jig-jog, ....." etc., etc., all much to the delight and amusement of Messrs Houghton, Smith, Patsy Eisman and other off-court players. The court itself was pale green concrete and well located since it was bordered on the upper side by a fine row of large flowering 'gums', eucalypts wonderful to see in bloom with their beautiful red flowers, - and on the lower side a row of golden poplars. And out beyond these we had fine views across the Yarra valley stretching towards Doncaster and the Dandenong ranges. Although I have no direct recollection of 'Caesar', our pet bulldog, I'm told that I began life with him as very much one of the family (yes, the dog I mean!). This seems to be born out by a number of photographs showing me (or is it Allan? - I can't be sure because Allan too was said to be ‘looked after’ by Caesar, - always standing guard by the pram!). Unfortunately, Caesar did not survive into old age. There was no accident on the road, so maybe he went the way of many bulldogs, the victim of inherited heart disease. Dorothy Smith, a little girl of my age lived in one of a pair of houses which shared the block directly across the road, the other being the Houghton’s. Dorothy, like me had blond hair - not only longer, but set in curls which her mother did each week, tying them tightly in rags. As I recall, our relationship was altogether ‘platonic’ - we simply enjoyed playing together. One of Dorothy's strict instructions from her mother was on how to carry a long-bladed bread or carving knife either to or from the Houghton's. On no account should she run, but carefully walk, and even so, always keep the tip of the blade pointing down to the ground. Glad to say, Dorothy took all of this on board and never came to grief, at least not from the careless treatment of knives! However, together with myself she did in a sense come to grief under different circumstances. That was when Allan decided to give Dorothy and me an exciting ride in the family 'rocker', a larger semi-circular wooden toy designed so the weights of 2 sets of children, one at either end, would balance one another while (gently!) rocking. Well .......... on this occasion, Allan decided it would be more fun and exciting to have Dorothy and me together down one end. He then compensated by standing and pushing down hard at the other end....until his end was right on the ground....while we, the two small ones, were perched hight above ground. Then he let go!! Thereupon Dorothy and I rocketed down at quite a bat, indeed with sufficient momentum that the rocker completely overturned, we bumping our little heads. It all seemed pretty traumatic at the time, with lots of tears, swollen bumps on heads that had to be treated by the application of butter (the approved ‘folk remedy’ of the day) and earnest regrets from Allan who, until then hadn't the least idea of the practical consequences of Newton's Second Law of Motion. I don't remember whether Allan was punished in any particular way, though I think it was seen by our parents as an honest mistake with its own built-in remorse - sufficient to prevent a recurrence, as indeed it was. Of course various naughty things were done by one or other of us from time to time. Since Allan was the older, he was often the first to ‘experiment’ and in any case was commonly considered the 'ring leader'. That may often have been so, but I've no doubt that I thoroughly enjoyed participating, playing my part even if the minor role. One exploit that comes to mind was to take an over-ripe marrow and hurl it at the blank wall of the house diagonally across the street, reachable from an adjacent vacant block. He would have been quite a smallish boy at the time - there was no particular motivation - it was just 'for a bit of a lark' (such runs the thoughts of small boys!). At all events, instead of just falling off and quietly decomposing on the garden beneath, the whole half marrow decided to stay up there on the wall, prominent for all to see. Although the event not witnessed by any one else at the time, ‘investigations’ of the result lead to Allan's 'apprehension' and he was required to apologise to the affronted house-owners and clean off the mess. Our house, 'Teahroa' was an attractive place in which to grow up. It was located in ‘Fairy Hills’, not far from the Darebin station, some 7 miles from the centre of Melbourne in a quiet, well-treed rather appealing sort of neighbourhood close to the river Yarra. The land, a long block laying east-west and extending from Redesdale road to the Boulevard below, overlooked the river valley. The house, occupying the north-west of the block had a small concrete back yard with external laundry in one corner and an outside garage at the other. The side garden extended through the block, or rather until it reached the tennis court by the Boulevard. The house itself was probably 'late Edwardian', and single level except for the children's bedrooms, beneath a gabled roof, facing west and overlooking the back yard. There were two other gables, one to the east the other to the south, and between these a ‘hip-roofed’ covered verandah bordering our parents bedroom. Next to that a lounge room. A passageway extended from the back door at the yard end to these eastern rooms, at which point it took a right turn to the 'front' door which opened onto a verandah facing the side garden. From the longish east-west passageway, other rooms connected. On the north side, a bathroom with bath, shower and chip heater. Also to the north, the kitchen, close to the back door, with windows overlooking our neighbour’s, the Robert's, side fence and a large loquat tree which in summer provided welcome shade and copious quantities of yellow fruit. Across the passage from the kitchen was the 'breakfast' room, a family room used for most meals and all sorts of general activities. Next, towards the front door, the dining room, reserved for visitor's and Sunday dinners, birthday parties, - especially children’s - and similar special occasions. My only recollection of my mother's parents, Edward and Levinia (ne Thomas) Bottomly is their arrival at our front door when making periodic visits. It was their custom to bring oranges, and I have but one stored picture, that of grandfather Edward and his beloved Levinia (our Mother always told how close they were) arriving on our front door verandah, complete with warm smiles and the ever- welcome bag of oranges.