Good morning — or whatever time of day it may be.
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Jeanette Doherty is, and always has been, a very busy lady.
In her younger days, she played a lot of sport and also found herself involved in administration; particularly of the badminton competition.
She was on the Cemetery Trust for eight years, and still takes tours.
She plays keyboard in the ‘Splinters’; she is a member of Greater Shepparton City Council’s Positive Ageing Advisory Committee; she is a life member of Turaton Music Company; and she works at Scot’s Op Shop, which is how this story came about.
Jeanette is currently our Senior Citizen of the Year.
From time to time, she also writes poetry.
Something inspires her, and the poem appears to almost write itself.
At the op shop, she opened two plastic bags, found a wedding dress and veil, and the words started coming.
The wedding dress
Jeanette and I decided that the dress was designed and made in the 1950s.
We had both been married in the ’60s, and this was definitely earlier. It had a full, tiered tulle petticoat and, beneath that, one of calico.
The veil was also tiered — full length, hip length and a shorter section to cover the face.
The bodice was of guipure lace, and there was lace trim on the skirt.
We also decided it was locally made, well finished and had once been very beautiful.
Poem
I was working at the op shop and opening up the bags.
Some items good for selling, some are good for rags.
I opened up another bag and, much to my surprise
There was a lovely wedding dress — right before my eyes.
It was a gown from years ago, with yards and yards of tulle
Someone proudly wore it — this lovely vintage jewel.
There also was a petticoat — made from shiny silk
With many tiers and flounces — the colour of fresh milk.
There was another petticoat, made from calico
With wire there to stiffen it and really make a show.
Such a tiny waist it had — she must have been quite small.
So petite and dainty, and wasn’t very tall.
Next there was a veil of tulle — tiered to hide the face
And a pearly little headpiece to keep it all in place.
Such a lovely outfit for someone’s wedding day
Yet here it was before me — being thrown away.
Who was this bride, I wondered, from years and years ago
How beautiful she must have looked, with features all aglow
As slowly down the aisle she walked accompanied by her dad
To wed the boy she loved — her future to be had.
I can see her standing there, full of hopes and dreams
Surrounded by her family — such a happy scene.
I hope that life was kind to her — I will never know,
Her wedding dress reminds me of times so long ago.
— Jeanette Doherty
Our conversation
I gave her a call when the poem and a photo appeared in my inbox, and our first conversation lasted for just over an hour.
I suspect it would have lasted longer, except my husband was wondering what we were having for dinner (and so was I).
It is one of those things that happens naturally when people have shared memories, are of a similar age and find themselves agreeing on many subjects.
During our second conversation, which was almost as long as the first, we debated the correct spelling of tuelle/tulle. Mr Google said ‘tuelle’ was the original French spelling (which Jeanette favoured), but Spotlight and Lincraft use ‘tulle’ (and I’m the one at the keyboard!).
I asked her if she was Rhonda’s mother, but I think I knew the answer.
Rhonda worked with me at this newspaper in the late ’80s.
She had one of those personalities; she smiled a lot, laughed easily and related well to others.
After training, she was an effective advertising consultant.
I clearly remember her wedding.
She was a beautiful bride, marrying a local policeman.
Then we made a mistake, my boss and me.
We gave her a promotion, to which she appeared to be ideally suited but didn’t want — and we lost her.
(Yes! I did learn from that mistake, and Councillor Brophy still owes me one!)
Jeanette tells me that Rhonda and Terry have lived in Geelong for a decade and are now grandparents.
I have found two notes for myself, written over two years: “Track down Jeanette Doherty.”
Obviously, notes to yourself are only useful if you read them.
When I was dusting the bookshelves
It does happen occasionally, surprised though you may be.
Just the shelves I can reach, mind you.
However, last week, I noticed a couple of books that caught my attention.
One was a large hardcover that looked — and was — unread.
I would have bought it because of the author, Colleen McCullough, and because it was an Australian story.
I’ve read it now and have been trying to figure out what was missing from a perfectly good story, well written and well constructed.
Compared to her Roman series, it was a non-event.
It took me some time to figure it out. In the books of Rome, she loved her characters — even the insignificant ones.
It felt as if she walked the streets with them, learning their strengths and noting their weaknesses.
She painted word pictures — and even drew sketches — and, as a result, the reader knew them too.
I will never forgive Cicero for being mean to Caesar.
I read 520 pages of historical novel The Touch — and felt nothing, because I wasn’t involved.
I didn’t care about any of the characters.
Colleen called it a ‘chook book’, and wrote it when she needed the money.
In my opinion, it showed in the outcome.
The most powerful woman history ever forgot
I had read this one.
It was titled Tsarina and was written by Ellen Alpsten. Historically, it is inaccurate — just plain wrong.
However, it does serve to remind us of a woman, Catherine the Great, who successfully ruled Russia from 1762 to 1796.
That period has been called ‘the Russian Enlightenment’.
She overthrew her hated husband, Peter the Third, and was accepted by the people.
She led a renaissance of sciences and culture.
She founded new cities, theatres and universities.
Her country became one of the great powers of Europe.
However, she also increased the size of her country by 520,000 sq km, and this included Right-bank Ukraine. Perhaps this was the start of a problem we have today.
Anyway, her story is long and complex — and unfortunately, stretched the skills of Ellen Alpsten. She bit off far more than she could chew.
Have a good week and may it be easy, my friends.
Marnie
Email: towntalk@sheppnews.com.au
Letter: Town Talk. The News. P.O. Box 204. Shepparton 3631.
Phone: Text or call 0409 317 187.
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