My Close Family

 When I began researching my family tree about ten years ago, I literally had just a handful of photos of my parents and grandparents.  I think there were about six or seven of my mother, taken quite a long time ago, as she had died when I was quite young. Similarly, the photos I had of my maternal grandparents, aunt and uncles were were from the 1940s / 1950s, and I could count them on one hand!

As for my paternal side, I had two photos of Dad when he was in his early 20s, and the rest of the collection dated from the his wedding day onwards until his death in 2016, but nothing from his childhood.  Additionally, I had only one photo of my paternal grandmother and none at all of my paternal grandfather.  

Now, as a result of reaching out and renewing contact with close relatives, along with around a decade of research, I have a much larger collection of precious photos of my close family.  I've put these together to make a brief family movie that I can pass on to the next generation.

Unfortunately, the movie was too big to upload as a whole, so I've had to split it into two parts:

Part 1:  The Connors side  (paternal)

                (hover over screen and click on the box in the bottom right-hand corner to go full screen)

Part 2:  The O'Donnell side  (maternal)

Music:   Arvo Pärt- Spiegel im Spiegel

School Days

This post is a move away from telling the stories of my ancestors and other relatives and telling a little of my own story, focusing on my years in primary school. 

The field of education, particularly early childhood education, has played an enormous part in my life.  I thoroughly enjoyed my primary school experiences as a child and that shaped my choice of career in adult life.  After I graduated secondary school, I went on to get a degree in education and specialised in early childhood teaching.  I spent many years working in primary schools as a teacher, both in the State and Catholic education systems.  I then moved to other roles, working in the field of learning difficulties and disabilities, before my retirement.  You could say I've been 'at school' for most of my life!

My primary school life began in the early 1960s is a small beachside town named Bowen.  

My first and only primary school was St Mary's Catholic School.  It had been established by the Sisters of St. Joseph in 1873, and was the very first Catholic School in the Diocese of Townsville.  

At that time the population of Bowen was around 1,000.  By the time I was ready to start school, the town's population had grown to around 5,000.  That meant there was one class of each grade level and we all moved up together. 

There were two primary schools in my hometown back then.  There was the state school and the Catholic school, as was the case in many small towns across Australia.  The state school kids used to call us "cattle ticks" (a play on the word Catholic!) and we used to call the state school kids "press-buttons" (apparently we thought they were all Presbyterians!  Not sure why!)   To be honest, there wasn't any real sort of rivalry, just a bit of name-calling on the bus as we headed home at the end of a school day.  There wasn't a lot of effort spent on it at all, mostly because we were all neighbours in our respective streets and lived our lives side-by-side on a daily basis.

                                          Grades 1 & 2 at St. Mary's in 1966.  I'm in the third row, fifth from the left

When I started primary school back in 1965, my first classrooms were in an old wooden double-storey building across the street from our Church, commonly known as the Infant School, but it's correct name was Sancta Barbara Catholic School. 

       The Infants School, St Mary's, Bowen -  photo was probably taken in the 1950s 

I remember the outside staircase led up to three large classrooms which opened up onto a verandah.  Those classrooms were for Year 1, Year 2 and Year 3.  There was another classroom downstairs, underneath the building for Year 4.  There was also a large open space concrete area underneath where we would sit in the shade to have our eating breaks twice a day and gather for assembly once a week.

The Grade 1 & 2 photo above was taken underneath the classrooms on the cement slab.  That's where the small bottles of milk with their foil tops were delivered daily and used to sit in their crates until our morning tea break, without refrigeration! 

So often, the milk was warm and not that enjoyable to drink, but it was a mandatory thing that all children attending school in those days had to have their daily dose of calcium.  During our tropical summertime, when the mercury soared, our milk was often hot and the cream at the top smelled off!

In 1966, I was in Grade 2.  Back then our school year was broken into three terms, with between 13 and 15 weeks per term.  School holidays occurred in April, August and the the long school break was over December and January.  (It wasn't until 1981 that the school year changed from three terms to four terms / two semesters.)

 
I would head off to school every day carrying my 'port', as my school bag was known as back then.  

Basically it was a cardboard box with a handle, and it would develop rather a peculiar smell which was a combination of mustiness and the aroma of vegemite sandwiches!

 

There were two different versions of the school port.  The one pictured here on the right, with a handle and two fasteners, was carried in your hand ....

... or there was the one you could sling across your back as it had straps to go around your shoulders.

I only ever remember having the one that had to be carried by hand.

 

Ah yes, vegemite sandwiches.  The staple diet for any Australian growing up in the 1960s!  

There was no other choice for a school lunch for me back then.  It was vegemite on white bread every single day, always wrapped in baking paper ... no plastic wrap! 

There was very little rubbish around our school yard, as the sandwich paper was all that was ever left at the end of lunchtime.  Our school lunches didn't come in plastic packaging and there were no juice containers either.  All we ever had to drink was water.  We didn't bring drinks in our ports to school.  Milk was provided, as mentioned, and water was considered the other drink needed during a school day.

 
Down the back of our school yard there was always a fire pit in an old iron drum.  This is where all the lunch papers ended up and the fire would be lit after we had returned to the classroom once play time had ended.

No kid every went near the fire and I don't remember ever being warned not to get too close ... we just knew not to do it!  This would never happen in any school yard these days!

 

I remember my very early school days being filled with nothing much more than the 4R's.  

Only heard of the 3R's?   Well we had 4!

We spent most of our time learning to read, to write and to do 'rithmetic, that's for sure, but there was an additional, even more important R ... religion.  That took up a lot of time each and every day!

I remember clearly that any writing we did in the early years was done on slates. 

I have very vivid memories of the smell of the rag we used to wipe the chalk from our slates!  It was truly the most disgusting stink you could imagine! 

We didn't use exercise books until Grade 3.  I do distinctly remember bringing new exercise books and an art pad to school at the beginning of my third year and feeling very grown up!

We learnt to read from the Happy Venture Readers which were full of the really boring adventures of Dick and Jane, Dora (Jane's doll) and Nip (Dick's dog).

These were known as 'basal readers', grade-levelled books which involved teaching reading using a code-emphasis approach, otherwise known as a scientifically-based reading program. 

For those of you who are teachers at the moment immersed in hearing all about the 'reading wars' that are supposedly raging, let me put it on the record ... 

from someone who grew up learning to read with a scientifically-based reading program, and then went on to teach children to read with the updated version of it (only by then it was the Endeavour Readers with Pam and Sam, and Digger the dog and Nat the cat) when I began my teaching career in the 1980s, I can attest to the fact that not every child will learn to read in line with their peers, not even with such a program!!!

As we got up into Grades 4, 5 and 6, we would read from the slightly more exciting 'Wide Range Readers'.

Ah, the memories!  The stories never did fire my imagination and some of them were downright nonsensical! 

We learnt maths using bits of coloured wood called cuisenaire rods,

and we were indoctrinated with the Catechism of the Roman Catholic faith through books called 'My Way To God'.  

I still have a few of them in my possession and occasionally go through them just to remind myself of some of the things we firmly believed when we were children.

One of the people who spent a lot of time teaching from those books was my Grade 1 & 2 teacher.  She was a nun, and wore a habit every day, which was customary back then, even in the extraordinarily high summer temps experienced in northern tropical Queensland.

I don't really remember much about that nun, seen in this photo taken on our Communion Day (1966 Grade 2), just the sound of her habit when she occasionally moved from her desk at the front of the classroom to check on the progress of our reading and writing. Being at the front of the room, behind the desk, was the usual position of teachers back then, away from the kids, and in the position of power.

My primary school memories were defined by my Catholicism.  Nuns and priests were part of our daily lives and most school events were tied up with significant rites of passage for young Catholics ...

- our first Confession (in Grade 2), which preceded Communion, was a very scary thing and to be honest, it was hard trying to think of sins to confess!  There was basically a choice of four - lying, disobeying your parents, fighting with your friends or siblings, and not saying your prayers before bedtime. 

- our first Communion Day (in Grade 2) when all the girls were dressed in white and wore veils and the boys wore white shirts with ties.  I remember telling my friends how hard it was to loosen that thin wafer called a Host which got stuck to the roof of my mouth!  It took me forever to pry that thing loose.

- our Confirmation Day when the Bishop came to town, which made it an extra special day!  We got to choose another name for ourselves.  It had to be the name of a patron saint who we wished to model ourselves after, and wished to place our prayers with, as they resided in heaven, close to God.  I took the name of Cecilia, after Saint Cecilia, the patron saint of music.  It didn't really help with my musical talents!

 

I remember receiving special medals on these important days and prayer books with a holy picture inside.  

I also remember the time when I, along with my female classmates, became 'Guardian Angels' and got to wear a red cloak over our Sunday clothes once a month.

I can't recall the significance of this, but I distinctly remember walking down the aisle after the priest and altar boys, and then sitting in the pews at the front of the Church. 

 

Afterwards, there were cakes and cordial as a treat outside the front of the Church.  Back then you often spent time with your class mates on a Sunday outside the Church, after Mass, and there were usually treats for the kids and cups of tea for the adults.

Around the time we made our confirmation (Grade 5), all girls who had been a 'Guardian Angel' graduated to become a 'Child of Mary'.  We wore blue cloaks instead of red, and a scapular to signify our devotion to Mary and our commitment to her son Jesus.

I'm not sure any young Catholic today would know what a scapular is, or have any notion of how a Novena sounded or have attended the Stations of the Cross at Church.  Some would possibly know what rosary beads are, but may not have experienced the hours of prayer we participated in when saying the rosary at school and at Church.

The scapular pictured here is the one I remember wearing as a primary school aged child.  It was made of two square pieces of cloth with images sewn onto them, and these were attached to material strings.

There were rules to remember when wearing the scapula.  You wore it like a necklace but you had to make sure one segment rested on your chest (near your heart) and the other on your back.  You couldn't wear it all akimbo or there would be retribution of some horrible type.

Scapulars could not be worn until they were blessed by the priest and then you were expected to wear it all the time so that you would benefit from its associated blessing.  If you took it off, then you weren't afforded that privilege any more.  For those of us who wore them most of the time, I can attest to the fact that they would become quite smelly as a result of running around in the tropics and working up a sweat during summertime!

This is my Grade 3 photo, taken in 1967, and that teacher standing beside her class is the reason I went on to become a teacher myself.  I have vivid memories of Mrs. West and her devotion to her class and her commitment to ensuring every child felt success in their learning.  I always felt as if she truly cared for all of us and really knew us as individuals.  She was what was referred to as a 'lay' teacher - not a member of any religious order - and she was to be our teacher for Grades 3 and 4.

During the years in Mrs. West's class, there were some other more interesting things added to our week's learning.  We got to do artwork, mostly drawing with craypas.

 

 

I loved craypas!  I distinctly remember the thrill of opening my first box and creating a colourful picture.  We didn't have fancy art lessons, but when it was time to get out our box of craypas, our hearts soared .. well mine did, at least!

We also learnt how to draw the country of Australia free hand.  Yes, I remember we were tested on this at the end of the year and we were expected to create something that looked exactly the same as the chart that hung on the wall.

It took a whole lot of practice!

Samplers was another of our learning experiences.  Well, it was for the girls at least, but I can't remember the boys ever having to do it.   

We were taught how to sew selected types of stitching ... things like blanket stitch and cross stitch.  I was pretty good at it, but I can't remember what ever happened to my samplers, so I obviously wasn't all that proud of my work.

In 1969 I was in Grade 5, and by that time we had moved from the Infant School to the other school building, known as St Mary's School, which was on the other side of our Church. 

 

It was a more modern building, just one storey with a covered hall section at one end and three classrooms at the other end for Year 5, Year 6 and Year 7.  In those days, unlike the present day, primary school ended at Year 7.  (Today Year 7 is the first year of high school!) 

  

My Grade 5 teacher was a nun named Sister Bernadette (to whom I felt a certain fondness given that we had the same name and she was a kind-hearted person).  She introduced our class to lots of musical experiences.  We spent quite a bit of time in that covered hall rehearsing songs for various concerts held throughout the year, and I fondly remember learning the words for "The Happy Wanderer".  Who could forget the chorus of that?  "Val-de-re, val-de-ra.  Val-de-re, val-de- rah, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha. Val-de-re, val-de-ra. My knapsack on my back!"  Really meaningful stuff.

Of course there was one event that will forever be etched in my memory.  A television was wheeled into our classroom one day in July.  Now, given that we didn't even have a television at home ... it wasn't an ordinary part of my family's life back then ... this was such an exciting thing!

    

Up until that point, my experiences with watching television were very limited.  My family would go into town on a Saturday night to listen to the Civic Band or just to wander up and down the main street.  Part of the night's entertainment involved stopping and standing in front of the window of the electrical appliance shop.  They had a television in the front window and it would be turned on so people could watch for a while.  Of course, you couldn't actually hear anything, but watching was enough.

So when a television on a trolley was wheeled into my Grade 5 classroom, I knew something momentous was about to happen.  Thinking back now, it was one of those awesome moments of wonder and awe that make us question everything we know about ourselves and our world.  I remember distinctly thinking that my life might actually turn out to be bigger than just a life in my hometown.

Grades 6 and 7 were spent with another very influential teacher, Mrs. McKenna.  I remember her as being quite strict and proper, but she opened a whole new world of knowledge for us.  Up until that point, we could tell you a lot about Australia ... its convict and Federation history, its states and their primary industries as well as geographical features; but Mrs. McKenna taught us about interesting places elsewhere ... like Europe and South-East Asia, places I'd never really heard about before.  My world up until that point had been very small indeed!

Looking back on my experience of primary school, I was fortunate enough to be one of those students who loved school and went on to do well at all levels of schooling. 

 

I become a teacher myself and have now had a career in education for over 40 years.  Having recently retired, I look back with interest on how things have changed. 

The last primary school I worked at was so vastly different from the primary school of my childhood, but of course, so it should be.  

The face of education has changed significantly and the memories I've spoken about so far are from a time when students sat in rows, didn't have much of a voice and received an education that really didn't prepare us for our adult years, apart from giving us some basic literacy and numeracy skills.  

Spotlight on ... Labour!

I've decided to branch off for a while and share things other than just the stories of my direct ancestors.  The main motivation for this is my desire to share some of the many wonderful photos I've found of my extended family (not too many degrees of separation from my direct ancestors).  

These photos deserve to be in the spotlight, so I thought long and hard about an interesting way to do this.  Hence the decision to put together collections of photos that all share a common thread.  

For the eleventh collection post, the spotlight is on ...  Labour of love! 

Motherhood is such a life-long labour of love and the mothers of previous generations in my family tree overcame many challenges and faced difficult struggles raising their families.  In this post I'm sharing some truly lovely photos of these mothers with their children.

The mother seated in this photo is Annie Clark / Thompson nee Exton, my paternal 3rd great aunt.  

Born in Lincolnshire, England in 1839, she emigrated with her parents and three siblings to Australia in 1844 when she was 4 years old.

At the age of 14 she married William Clark, ten years older than her.  This was not an uncommon event in the colonies in the 1800s.

Annie went on to have eight children with William, before he died when she was aged 32.

Annie was a widower, raising her young family, for five years before marrying again at the age of 37.

This photo shows Annie with her eldest son Thomas around 1860.  Thomas has the look of a strong-willed child, and I wonder if he was a bit of a handful!  Annie looks weary in this photo, and I think her life would have been tough!  Annie died in 1919 at the age of 80 survived by six of her sons, one of her daughters, 40 grandchildren and 38 great-grandchildren.

Common Ancestors with Annie:  my 3rd great grandparents James Exton and Susannah Lancaster  (Annie's parents).

This photo shows mother Alice Brown nee Maguire, the wife of my paternal 2nd great uncle.

Alice was born in 1875 and married Robert Frederick Bayley Brown in 1892 when she was 17 years old.

Alice and Robert went on to have four children, all girls.

This photo shows Alice with three of her daughters Winifred Grace, Marietta Madge (known as Madge) and Vivian Hopetoun.  

Sadly, Alice died a mere three years after this photo was taken, shortly after giving birth to her third daughter.  She was only 28 years old.  These little girls lost their mother so early in their lives and according to family history, they did not see their father again after the death of their mother.  My heart just breaks when I think about this.

 

Common Ancestors with Alice's husband Robert and their daughters:  my 2x great grandparents Henry Johnson Brown and Caroline Penelope Browning (Robert's parents).

The young mother gazing so lovingly at her son in this photo is Mabel Cusack nee Hicks, the wife of my paternal 1st cousin 3x removed.

Mabel married William Hugh Fay Cusack when she was 20 years old.  They went on to have six children.

The young boy in this photo is Mabel's first born son Walter who came along in 1910.  Don't you just adore that boater on his head and that fabulous suit he's wearing.

I also adore Mabel's dress and that delicate bracelet she's wearing.  The fan, well I think it's a fan, in Mabel's hand is an extraordinary looking thing.  It's a fascinating photo!

Mabel died in June of 1933, aged just 46.  Her husband William died just over a month later.  They were survived by their five children.

Common Ancestors with Mabel's husband William and their children: my 2x great grandparents Patrick Cusack and Eliza Exton.

This mother is Elsie Louisa Bostock nee Fackerell, the wife of my paternal 2nd cousin 2x removed.

Elsie was born in 1888, married Robert Bostock in July of 1908 when she was 20 years old, and gave birth to the baby in this photo in October of 1908.

Baby Robert Neville was the first of eleven children born to Elsie and husband Robert.  

Elsie's last child was born in 1930 when she was 42 years old.  Elsie lived until the ripe old age of 99, dying just two months before her 100th birthday in 1988.  She was obviously a rather resilient woman.

Common Ancestors with Elsie's husband Robert and their children:  my paternal 3x great grandparents William Browning and Anne (Nancy) Littlejohns.

The mother in this photo is Jane Atherton nee Bardsley. 

Jane had married Thomas Arthur Atherton in 1895 when she was 18 years old.  They went on to have a family of five sons and two daughters.

This photo, taken in 1913, shows Jane with her two daughters.  Leila, aged 11, is standing beside her mother whose gaze is focused on baby Betty.

Here is another photo of mother Jane with her eldest daughter Leila, taken in the late 1930s.

Leila married my maternal 1st cousin 2x removed, Frank Warren Shaw.

Common Ancestors with Leila's husband Frank:  my 2x great grandparents Michael Farrell and Susan Muldowney (Downey)

This photo, taken around 1916, shows Margaret Magdalen Neylon nee Hickey (seated), my paternal 1st cousin 3x removed, with her daughter Julia Alice Neylon.

Margaret was born in 1858.  When she was 23 she married Thomas Neylon and they went on to have eleven children, although six of them did not survive their childhood years.  Julia Alice was the eldest, born in 1882.

According to family stories, this photo was an old style postcard probably sent off to Margaret's son Michael who was fighting in France during WW1.  Margaret would have been about 58 years old and daughter Julia would have been 34.

Sadly Michael never returned home, but the photo did when his belongings found their way back to Australia. Margaret only lived another eight years after the death of her son Michael.  She died in 1926 at the of 68.

Common Ancestors with Margaret:  my 3x great grandparents James Hickey and Margaret McNamara.

This mother is Mary Jane Reid nee Dooley, my paternal 1st cousin 3x removed, born in 1887.  She married the father of her daughters, Alexander Reid, in 1915 just before he shipped off to fight in WW1.

This photo was likely taken in 1916 and sent off to Alexander as a reminder of what he had left behind.  Sadly he was killed in action in 1917.

The two young girls in the photo were Constance Jean, standing beside her mother, and Emma Eileen May.

Mary Jane gave birth to a son in 1918, re-married in 1924 and then had two more daughters.  She died in 1955 at the age of 68.

Here is a photo of Mary Jane with her only son Cyril James Reid, taken many years later in 1939 before Cyril went to serve in WW11.

At the time Mary Jane would have been 52 years old.  Thankfully Mary Jane was able to welcome her son back home safely at the end of the war.

When Mary Jane died in 1955, she was survived by all her children, but not by her second husband George Coldwell.  He had died in 1951.

Common Ancestors with Mary Jane:  my 3x great grandparents James Exton and Susannah Lancaster.

The mother looking upon her daughter in this photo is Frances Elizabeth Maude Dillon nee Kilfoyle, my paternal 1st cousin 2x removed.

Born in 1885 in Gunnedah, New South Wales, Frances married John Edwin Dillon in 1906 when she was 21.

They went on to have nine children.  The youngest Shirley Maude Dillon, seen in this photo, was born in 1929 when Frances was 44 years old.

Frances lived until her 63rd year, dying in 1948 and survived by her husband John and all their children.

Common Ancestors with Frances:  my 2x great grandparents Henry Johnson Brown and Caroline Penelope Browning.

This mother's name is Catherine Dwyer nee O'Donnell, my maternal 2nd great aunt, known as Kate to her family.  

Catherine (Kate) emigrated to the U.S.A. from Ireland sometime around 1900.  She married Richard B. Dwyer in 1902 and went on to have four children.  Anastacia was their first born, and Catherine came along four years later.

In this photo Catherine (Kate) is sitting on the front porch of her home with daughter Anastacia, on the right, and Catherine, on the left.

Common Ancestors with Catherine:  my 2x great grandparents John O'Donnell and Catherine Joy.

This is a photo of Sarah Muckian nee McCann, my maternal 2x great grandmother, and her son Edward Muckian.

I have not yet been able to find out many details about Sarah.  At this point in time I only know that she was born in 1821 in northern Ireland, she married Patrick Muckian when she was 32 (which, for the times, seems rather late in life to be married for the first time) and they went on to have five children.

Edward was Sarah's eldest son, born the year after her marriage when she was 33 years old.  

This photo was taken on the day of Edward's wedding in 1892.  Edward was 37 (again, that seems rather late in life) and Sarah, the proud mother, was 71 years old.

Common Ancestors with Sarah:  sadly I have not yet been able to discover the names of Sarah's parents.

This rather poised, serene looking mother is Elizabeth Shaw nee Farrell, my maternal 2nd great aunt.

Elizabeth was born in Durham, north-eastern England.  She migrated to Australia with her parents and siblings when she was 14.

In 1897 Elizabeth married Frank Shaw when she was 24 years old, and they went on to have five children.

In this photo Elizabeth is surrounded by her five children.  Her two boys are her eldest Frank standing to her right and her youngest Edwin standing on the chair beside her.  Her daughters are Mary and Margaret on the right and Dorothy is the little one cuddling up to her mother.

Common Ancestors with Elizabeth:  my 2nd great grandparents Michael Farrell and Susan Muldowney/Downey.

The mother in this photo is my maternal great grandmother Margaret McCane nee Farrell (the sister of Elizabeth in the previous photo).

Margaret was born in Newcastle-Upon-Tyne, Durhamshire, north-eastern England.  She emigrated to Australia in 1886 when she was 20 years old, with a younger sister.

This happened a year before her sister Elizabeth (pictured above), her other siblings and her parents came to Australia.

Margaret worked as a domestic servant for many years before marrying Owen Muckian (McCane) in 1892 when she was 26.

On a side note, Owen Muckian (whose name was anglicized upon arrival in Australia to McCane) was another son of Sarah Muckian nee McCann who was pictured earlier in the wedding day photo of Edward, her eldest son.

Margaret and her husband Owen went on to have a family of seven children.  Their eldest son Edward William died tragically when he was only 8 years old.  This photo, taken sometime around 1911 shows Margaret surrounded by her surviving boys Thomas (Tom), John (known as Jack), James (Jim) and her youngest Edward Joseph.  The two eldest daughters, Susan and Sarah, were not included in the sitting for this portrait.

This photo shows my elderly great grandmother Margaret McCane nee Farrell (the same lady from the photo above) with her daughter Sarah Mary Josephine McCane, my grandmother.

Common ancestors with Margaret:  my 2x great grandparents Michael Farrell and Susan Muldowney (Downey), Margaret's parents.

Finally, this last photo shows my mother, Margaret Brigid Connors nee O'Donnell, with myself and my brother.  

Sadly I don't have many photos of Mum with us both, so this is a little treasure.  

Margaret Brigid (known as Mina) O'Donnell was born in 1923, the daughter of Sarah Mary Josephine O'Donnell nee McCane (pictured above) and James O'Donnell.  Margaret was the second eldest of seven children.

She married Bede William Connors in 1959 when she was 35 years old.  Tragically their marriage only lasted nine years, as Margaret died in 1968.

This photo was taken around 1965 when Mum was 42, but was succumbing to the condition that had plagued her for many years.  Despite that, she put everything she had into being the best mother she could be, and that will always be a lasting and truly valued memory.