Bernard (Strom) Charlton
1934 - 2009
Eulogy
When I am with a group of friends and my conversation drifts into intense detail about something, or when on the rare occasion I am trying to fix something and loose patience and some tool invariably disappears over to the other side of the garage, my partner will often say “you are just like your father”. The other day I found myself telling my youngest son, to listen to your mother…..and in a spilt second I was Alexander and it was Dad telling me exactly the same. If the saying is that you are your father’s son, then I know that not only do Mark and I fit that cliché well, but do so with great pride ….. although the number of lost tools is getting a bit expensive.
Strom to Mum, family and friends, Dad my brother and I, Poppy Strom to his Grandsons, Bernie his Brothers and Sisters, Bernard to the tax office, all the names just a jumble of letters for who Dad was. Dad was proud but humble, kind, strict but fair, wise, meticulous to a fault, helpful, thoughtful, grateful, strong and determined.
Dad was born in Cooroy Hospital in 1934 to Arthur and Clara. His most common talked about place of his childhood was in Tully, Queensland where he grew into a young man. Talking to Dad about this time, one gets the impression that Rugby was played 24 hours a day, 7 days a week for 365 days of the year with the occasional time out to get in trouble for something or other. Recently Dad’s Sister (who is here today), Carol, sent some photos of Dad whilst he was in Tully and I imagine the photos would not be too much different from anyone else’s who lived in that town in those years. One thing that stands out in all of these photos, and rings true throughout Dad’s life, was that he wasn’t wearing any shoes in any of the photos – he would kick them off as soon as he walked in the door. One photo, which at the moment remains a bit of an exciting mystery to us all, shows Dad standing next to a five foot crocodile hanging up from the railing of the front steps of his childhood house in Tully. The picture has Dad and some of his brothers and probably friends holding onto various parts of the croc and is very much like the photo of a person who has caught a shark or marlin and has the photo taken beside it. It conjures up a vision of Dad the crocodile hunter standing next to his prize…..although the truth may be that it happened to wander in under a scrum and was trampled to death!
A few years ago Debi and I went to Tully as a side trip to a wedding we attended up at Mission Beach. For two days Debi and I spent our time walking in Dad’s footsteps. We went to the local pub and had a XXXX, we stood near the oval that Dad played rugby on, we drove up his old street, we visited his old life saving club at mission beach, and went through the library searching for stories of the town. I know that Mark has also done this whilst he spent time in Far North Queensland. Dad told a story of being towed out from Mission Beach with his brother by his Dad out around the islands on a fishing trip. It was possible to look out over the water and imagine life back then, and although we know that it was difficult times for my Dad’s family, the best was made of a beautiful location and he would have had many happy memories of his childhood.
Dad left school early and took up an apprenticeship as a cabinet maker before heading off to join the police force (a wish of his fathers). I am sure by his will he went through a different door and came out enrolled in the Australian Air force.
I think that the Air Force was a defining time in Dad’s life (although seventeen years in uniform may do that, so I am not expecting any grand prizes for that insight!). Dad often told us stories about his time in the Air Force and for Mark and I it is here that we feel we start to make an entry into the story as it is here that Dad met Mum (but more on that a little later).
Dad enlisted in the air force at the age of 18. He spent time in various parts of Australia and the world but the most mentioned were the years that he spent in Darwin. I would imagine it is no co incidence that these fond memories of Darwin would have something to do with Mum also being in the air force at the same time based in Darwin.
Dad told us stories of how he achieved his ranks and knowledge through hard work and study. Dad (as did Mum for that matter), reached the highest rank that a non commissioned member of the air force could reach – Warrant Officer. Dad saw active service in Malaya as well as peace keeping deployments in Malta. He also spent some time in the USA. For us though, Darwin seemed to be the most exciting place for him and stories of the buzzing of Australian shores by Indonesian aircraft and sleeping at the radar stations due to being on 24 hours alert leaves both Mark and I with a sense that Dad was a part of history, but a secret part that makes it all that more mysterious. During Dad’s time in the Air force Dad’s sporting prowess continued and he toured with the rugby union Air Force side to many places in Australia and overseas. He also held the inter services record in the Northern Territory for shot put and discuss.
After the air force Dad was offered a position in England with Plessey, an electronics firm that was supplying radar equipment to the middle east. In between waiting for the documents to arrive Dad waved Mum off to England from the wharves in Sydney as she was embarking on a tour of Europe before meeting Dad in England to get married. We have a great photo of Dad taken by Mum from the deck of the ship waving. Little did Dad know that Mum’s ships was to catch fire up on the equator a week later and then float around without any communication back to Australia. Dad would have been frantic.
Dad got married to Mum in 1969 in England and I was born in 1970. We moved back to Brisbane via Sydney in 1971 and four years later in 1975 Mark was born. And thus Dad’s family life began.
My memories of my early childhood in Brisbane are fairly cloudy, but I can however, like most kids, remember my first bike. I remember getting a big green thing with trainer wheels and tassels on the hand grips. My biggest memory of that event however was Dad and Mum propping me up on the bike on the top of the grass hill at the back of our Brisbane home and launching me into space………..down the hill at a rate of knots……..straight into a tree. I do remember though having Dad pick me up and put me back on and encourage me to not give up. This lesson has stayed with me ever since (as well as not to put my sons on a bike at the top of a hill if they haven’t ridden a bike before). I know that Mark has also learned the same ethos, “never give up” from Dad and it is a trait that we Charlton’s hold close to heart.
To cut a long story shorter…not short….we moved around a few houses in Brisbane and then down to Sydney where Dad and Mum bought a block of land in Hazelbrook, NSW. In the Blue Mountains for those who don’t know. We lived in a rented house for a while in inner Sydney whilst our house was being built. Dad designed the house with our Uncle Colin (Mum’s Sisters husband) and it was Mum and Dad’s castle. This was where Mark and I would grow up through our “school years”.
Hazelbrook has special memories of Dad for Mark and I and it was here that Dad showed his total commitment to family life. Dad was the credit manager of Flemington Markets in Sydney and I do not think he saw the sun rise or set in Hazelbrook any week day for 11 years. I have very clear memories of being woken up at some ungodly hour and being lumbered into the car in the middle of winter to go and drop Dad off at the railway station to go to work. The same in reverse for picking him up after sunset at night from returning from work. That said, Dad never missed a beat in hearing about our day, or taking us to soccer or cricket practice or scouts or cubs or guitar lessons or any number of things. Dad was the president of the scout group and he managed a soccer team (he named the Hazelbrook soccer team the Hazelbrook Hawks and designed the logo and designs for the uniforms) (he also was the co ordinator for the 75th anniversary of the scout movement in Hazelbrook and there is a time capsule buried under the flag pole at Hazelbrook Scouts that was conceptualized and made by Dad). Mum was always involved in some committee or other and you would always see Dad as the designated sausage cooker, fireworks lighter, fete coordinator and girl Friday to Mum in her endeavors to make our community a better place.
Dad was a maker of things. Just about all of our furniture was made by Dad (a legacy of his cabinet maker apprentice days prior to the air force). Mum might mention in passing that a coffee table would look nice next to the lounge and by the end of the day, it would be sitting there (maybe not the design Mum envisioned, but a coffee table none the less). Dad collected potential building materials. Mum, Mark and I all remember very well the day we went to the local tip to drop off some rubbish and then filled up the trailer with “potential building material”…….when we returned home and Dad unloaded his new treasure we looked up to see our back neighbour looking over the fence laughing his head off. His words……I could of saved you a trip, I just dumped all that stuff half and hour ago.
Dad also had an inventor streak in him and over the years tried his hand at a few inventions. Dad invented a net that went around an above ground pool to stop kids climbing in (just before pool fences became mandatory). Mark and I have great memories of playing a game that Dad invented that involved markers placed around a field with “runs” marked on them. We would spend hours playing the perfect backyard cricket with kids from the neighborhood where a six could be achieved by hitting a marker…expect when Dad bowled where his nasty spinner would have us guessing which way the ball would come from.
In 1989 we all packed up and headed South to some place called Tasmania (I’d never heard of it then). A great adventure ….. city slickers to a farm at Pipers River. From half an acre to 50 acres. From a hand mower to a tractor. To running water to dead possums in the water tank. A garage to a giant shed…..paradise for Dad!!!!!
Dad took to farm life great and transformed the basic three bedroom fibro house into a home. I personally didn’t stay long at the farm and this became a time where Mum, Mark and Dad became very close. Mark speaks fondly of times on the farm with Dad. One of Dad’s biggest achievements on the farm was his development of a Pitt Street farmers stud. He bred Angus and his pride and joy was a Bull called Midnight Willy. Dad would walk to the paddock fence with a red bucket full of food and call for Midnight. It was amazing to see this huge black angus bull come jumping and running from the other side of the paddock – you almost expected it to roll over on its back and stick it’s legs up for a tummy rub. Dad took Midnight to the Scottsdale and Launceston show and won the Blue ribbon. A crowing moment!
Most of everyone here knows about Dad from when he moved from Pipers River to Lilydale so I won’t go into too much detail but, from our point of view we are very proud of his achievements as we know he was. Dad was involved always in many projects around Lilydale. Be it from the retirement units, to selling raffle tickets or supporting mum in her bowls to doing submissions for money or kind for the village green Dad was always in there using his head and his hands to get the job done.
By and far however, Dad was extremely proud of his involvement in the planning and development of the Lilydale Cenotaph. Dad spent many hours on this project and although very humble on his involvement, it was very special to him. Dad’s wish was for his ashes to be spread around the cenotaph. For us, his family, the cenotaph will always be a special place for us to remember Dad. I imagine in years to come taking my sons to the cenotaph and telling them stories of Poppy Strom. I like to think that my son’s will continue to do the same with their children.
In closing I would like to add that Dad was not really a religious man. However I do believe that he had a leaning towards reincarnation. He often said to us that if he could come back as anything it would be as a seagull so he could watch the cricket for free. I for one will always now be giving the seagulls one of my chips just in case…if you choose not too, and a seagull poos on your shoulder, consider yourself warned.
We will Miss you Dad.
Strom to Mum, family and friends, Dad my brother and I, Poppy Strom to his Grandsons, Bernie his Brothers and Sisters, Bernard to the tax office, all the names just a jumble of letters for who Dad was. Dad was proud but humble, kind, strict but fair, wise, meticulous to a fault, helpful, thoughtful, grateful, strong and determined.
Dad was born in Cooroy Hospital in 1934 to Arthur and Clara. His most common talked about place of his childhood was in Tully, Queensland where he grew into a young man. Talking to Dad about this time, one gets the impression that Rugby was played 24 hours a day, 7 days a week for 365 days of the year with the occasional time out to get in trouble for something or other. Recently Dad’s Sister (who is here today), Carol, sent some photos of Dad whilst he was in Tully and I imagine the photos would not be too much different from anyone else’s who lived in that town in those years. One thing that stands out in all of these photos, and rings true throughout Dad’s life, was that he wasn’t wearing any shoes in any of the photos – he would kick them off as soon as he walked in the door. One photo, which at the moment remains a bit of an exciting mystery to us all, shows Dad standing next to a five foot crocodile hanging up from the railing of the front steps of his childhood house in Tully. The picture has Dad and some of his brothers and probably friends holding onto various parts of the croc and is very much like the photo of a person who has caught a shark or marlin and has the photo taken beside it. It conjures up a vision of Dad the crocodile hunter standing next to his prize…..although the truth may be that it happened to wander in under a scrum and was trampled to death!
A few years ago Debi and I went to Tully as a side trip to a wedding we attended up at Mission Beach. For two days Debi and I spent our time walking in Dad’s footsteps. We went to the local pub and had a XXXX, we stood near the oval that Dad played rugby on, we drove up his old street, we visited his old life saving club at mission beach, and went through the library searching for stories of the town. I know that Mark has also done this whilst he spent time in Far North Queensland. Dad told a story of being towed out from Mission Beach with his brother by his Dad out around the islands on a fishing trip. It was possible to look out over the water and imagine life back then, and although we know that it was difficult times for my Dad’s family, the best was made of a beautiful location and he would have had many happy memories of his childhood.
Dad left school early and took up an apprenticeship as a cabinet maker before heading off to join the police force (a wish of his fathers). I am sure by his will he went through a different door and came out enrolled in the Australian Air force.
I think that the Air Force was a defining time in Dad’s life (although seventeen years in uniform may do that, so I am not expecting any grand prizes for that insight!). Dad often told us stories about his time in the Air Force and for Mark and I it is here that we feel we start to make an entry into the story as it is here that Dad met Mum (but more on that a little later).
Dad enlisted in the air force at the age of 18. He spent time in various parts of Australia and the world but the most mentioned were the years that he spent in Darwin. I would imagine it is no co incidence that these fond memories of Darwin would have something to do with Mum also being in the air force at the same time based in Darwin.
Dad told us stories of how he achieved his ranks and knowledge through hard work and study. Dad (as did Mum for that matter), reached the highest rank that a non commissioned member of the air force could reach – Warrant Officer. Dad saw active service in Malaya as well as peace keeping deployments in Malta. He also spent some time in the USA. For us though, Darwin seemed to be the most exciting place for him and stories of the buzzing of Australian shores by Indonesian aircraft and sleeping at the radar stations due to being on 24 hours alert leaves both Mark and I with a sense that Dad was a part of history, but a secret part that makes it all that more mysterious. During Dad’s time in the Air force Dad’s sporting prowess continued and he toured with the rugby union Air Force side to many places in Australia and overseas. He also held the inter services record in the Northern Territory for shot put and discuss.
After the air force Dad was offered a position in England with Plessey, an electronics firm that was supplying radar equipment to the middle east. In between waiting for the documents to arrive Dad waved Mum off to England from the wharves in Sydney as she was embarking on a tour of Europe before meeting Dad in England to get married. We have a great photo of Dad taken by Mum from the deck of the ship waving. Little did Dad know that Mum’s ships was to catch fire up on the equator a week later and then float around without any communication back to Australia. Dad would have been frantic.
Dad got married to Mum in 1969 in England and I was born in 1970. We moved back to Brisbane via Sydney in 1971 and four years later in 1975 Mark was born. And thus Dad’s family life began.
My memories of my early childhood in Brisbane are fairly cloudy, but I can however, like most kids, remember my first bike. I remember getting a big green thing with trainer wheels and tassels on the hand grips. My biggest memory of that event however was Dad and Mum propping me up on the bike on the top of the grass hill at the back of our Brisbane home and launching me into space………..down the hill at a rate of knots……..straight into a tree. I do remember though having Dad pick me up and put me back on and encourage me to not give up. This lesson has stayed with me ever since (as well as not to put my sons on a bike at the top of a hill if they haven’t ridden a bike before). I know that Mark has also learned the same ethos, “never give up” from Dad and it is a trait that we Charlton’s hold close to heart.
To cut a long story shorter…not short….we moved around a few houses in Brisbane and then down to Sydney where Dad and Mum bought a block of land in Hazelbrook, NSW. In the Blue Mountains for those who don’t know. We lived in a rented house for a while in inner Sydney whilst our house was being built. Dad designed the house with our Uncle Colin (Mum’s Sisters husband) and it was Mum and Dad’s castle. This was where Mark and I would grow up through our “school years”.
Hazelbrook has special memories of Dad for Mark and I and it was here that Dad showed his total commitment to family life. Dad was the credit manager of Flemington Markets in Sydney and I do not think he saw the sun rise or set in Hazelbrook any week day for 11 years. I have very clear memories of being woken up at some ungodly hour and being lumbered into the car in the middle of winter to go and drop Dad off at the railway station to go to work. The same in reverse for picking him up after sunset at night from returning from work. That said, Dad never missed a beat in hearing about our day, or taking us to soccer or cricket practice or scouts or cubs or guitar lessons or any number of things. Dad was the president of the scout group and he managed a soccer team (he named the Hazelbrook soccer team the Hazelbrook Hawks and designed the logo and designs for the uniforms) (he also was the co ordinator for the 75th anniversary of the scout movement in Hazelbrook and there is a time capsule buried under the flag pole at Hazelbrook Scouts that was conceptualized and made by Dad). Mum was always involved in some committee or other and you would always see Dad as the designated sausage cooker, fireworks lighter, fete coordinator and girl Friday to Mum in her endeavors to make our community a better place.
Dad was a maker of things. Just about all of our furniture was made by Dad (a legacy of his cabinet maker apprentice days prior to the air force). Mum might mention in passing that a coffee table would look nice next to the lounge and by the end of the day, it would be sitting there (maybe not the design Mum envisioned, but a coffee table none the less). Dad collected potential building materials. Mum, Mark and I all remember very well the day we went to the local tip to drop off some rubbish and then filled up the trailer with “potential building material”…….when we returned home and Dad unloaded his new treasure we looked up to see our back neighbour looking over the fence laughing his head off. His words……I could of saved you a trip, I just dumped all that stuff half and hour ago.
Dad also had an inventor streak in him and over the years tried his hand at a few inventions. Dad invented a net that went around an above ground pool to stop kids climbing in (just before pool fences became mandatory). Mark and I have great memories of playing a game that Dad invented that involved markers placed around a field with “runs” marked on them. We would spend hours playing the perfect backyard cricket with kids from the neighborhood where a six could be achieved by hitting a marker…expect when Dad bowled where his nasty spinner would have us guessing which way the ball would come from.
In 1989 we all packed up and headed South to some place called Tasmania (I’d never heard of it then). A great adventure ….. city slickers to a farm at Pipers River. From half an acre to 50 acres. From a hand mower to a tractor. To running water to dead possums in the water tank. A garage to a giant shed…..paradise for Dad!!!!!
Dad took to farm life great and transformed the basic three bedroom fibro house into a home. I personally didn’t stay long at the farm and this became a time where Mum, Mark and Dad became very close. Mark speaks fondly of times on the farm with Dad. One of Dad’s biggest achievements on the farm was his development of a Pitt Street farmers stud. He bred Angus and his pride and joy was a Bull called Midnight Willy. Dad would walk to the paddock fence with a red bucket full of food and call for Midnight. It was amazing to see this huge black angus bull come jumping and running from the other side of the paddock – you almost expected it to roll over on its back and stick it’s legs up for a tummy rub. Dad took Midnight to the Scottsdale and Launceston show and won the Blue ribbon. A crowing moment!
Most of everyone here knows about Dad from when he moved from Pipers River to Lilydale so I won’t go into too much detail but, from our point of view we are very proud of his achievements as we know he was. Dad was involved always in many projects around Lilydale. Be it from the retirement units, to selling raffle tickets or supporting mum in her bowls to doing submissions for money or kind for the village green Dad was always in there using his head and his hands to get the job done.
By and far however, Dad was extremely proud of his involvement in the planning and development of the Lilydale Cenotaph. Dad spent many hours on this project and although very humble on his involvement, it was very special to him. Dad’s wish was for his ashes to be spread around the cenotaph. For us, his family, the cenotaph will always be a special place for us to remember Dad. I imagine in years to come taking my sons to the cenotaph and telling them stories of Poppy Strom. I like to think that my son’s will continue to do the same with their children.
In closing I would like to add that Dad was not really a religious man. However I do believe that he had a leaning towards reincarnation. He often said to us that if he could come back as anything it would be as a seagull so he could watch the cricket for free. I for one will always now be giving the seagulls one of my chips just in case…if you choose not too, and a seagull poos on your shoulder, consider yourself warned.
We will Miss you Dad.
