In costume and character for Little Miss Muffet
in Nan and Pa's back garden.

Little Miss Muffet

BY MOTHER GOOSE

Little Miss Muffet 

Sat on a tuffet, 

Eating her curds and whey; 

Along came a spider, 

Who sat down beside her, 

And frightened Miss Muffet away.

I was wondering what I was doing the same year that Fred went to Mozambique, 1964; so 8 years old and at Oliver Lodge Primary School in Vanderbijlpark. 

This envelop, letter and an old photo sheds some light. 

I was Little Miss Muffet in the school play, something that I loved and I participated in  school plays during all my years at Primary and High School.

My Mom kept this letter from my teacher, Mrs. Joyce Mc Fadyen's  and I can see why, it would make any mother proud. 

The letter is a thank you note for 'the beautiful and useful Xmas present', the envelop though is a note to me, Miss Muffet, and thanks me 'for doing such lovely work.'

I had twelve really good years at school.

A card and a letter from Lourenco Marques

The post card from the 13 year Fred to his parents in Bulawayo.

Like my mother, I too have a box of letters, old photos, post cards and other bits and pieces, tucked away in a bottom drawer.

I was tiding up the drawer yesterday and found this delightful card and letter written by a thirteen year old Fred from Lourenco Marques, to his parents in Bulawayo.

It is early in January 1964, (got to love the 1963 made into 1964, I remember getting dates wrong in January too) and he is at the Jamboree International in Mozambique.

He shares the detail of his two days, from a cathedral in the shape of a space rocket, to visiting the iconic L.M. Radio Station which is a fond memory for South African's too, seeing hippos and ends with seeing the movie Zorro at the bioscope, I think that must have made an impression on him.

So typical of the Fred that I know, he writes of going to the market on his free afternoon, 'I saw something nice which I wanted to buy for Dad but I left my money in camp...' so he was thoughtful and forgetful even then.

....do you think everyone wrote back Fred?

The Kersten family in 1963 for Paul's christening.
Back row: Eli, Fred's Mom holding Paul, Fred's Dad, Fred
Front row: Henk, Louise, Michael and Hans.

'Don't worry about the kids..'

My Dad, a man of few words, would visit, call and drop Mom notes and writes letters while she was away from home and having her cancer treatments in Hillbrow, Johannesburg.

Me, Cape Town from Signal Hill. Clive, Dad, Mom, Inel and Doreen arriving in the Cape.

His letter and notes show his caring and him trying to allay all her fears and reassure her that the treatments will be successful.

Knowing my mother this must have been one of the toughest times of her life and so hard for her to leave him and her 3 children at home.

Dad writes: 'Don't worry about the kids who all send love and kisses, we will all manage until you are home again'.         

These photos taken on our holiday to the Cape in December 1973 give a feel for the family just before Mom's ovarian cancer, Inel and Doreen are so young.

I had just matriculated and it was a special trip the folks had planned; train ride, ship cruise and time in Cape Town. I do remember Clive and I been man down, seasick and rather morose on the cruise.
Oh my, the joys of parenting.


Reading his only letter in the box from this time when Mom is in hospital, dated 15 July 1974, I realise just how difficult it was for him too.
'Every day is as long as a week and at the time of writing only a half day had passed but I can't wait to get you out of Hospital and back home again.'
And:
'Be sure all my thoughts and feelings are with you all the time...'

A last quick note from Dad jotted down on computer paper

This quick note from the 19/8 written on a scrap of computer paper foraged from Iscor makes me smile.

So old man the 'playpen' is still around.

The Wedderburn household went through reams and reams of recycled computer print-outs. 

Projects, letters, to-do lists, scrabble scores, shopping lists, reminders...

Dad is reassuring her that its the last week of her treatment and he is looking forward to friday.

Their love for each other is evident in all the correspondence as is their intimacy, I feel awkward and intrusive when reading the letters, like the  'playpen' reference from her notes.

Discovering Great-Aunt Sissie

This tiny black and white photo has gone unnoticed until yesterday when I found it in a small leather photo album that belonged to Nan, my maternal grandmother. I was excited as this is the first time I am seeing my Pa's family.
His mother and father are back left.
Mom is sitting on Sissie's lap, and her brother Gus is standing next to Nan.
Kotie, next to Sissie, is her husband and they lived in Messina.

Nan's letters are full of Sissie's talents, pottery, painting, copper work and she admires her. In the hand written letter below she writes about Sissie, 'can turn her hand to anything'.

What really got me excited was the uncanny similarity between Great-Aunt Sissie and my sister Doreen.
Now I know where her mane of curly hair comes from and Doreen has crazy talent!

Great-Aunt Sissie, Pa's sister (left with Mom) and my sister Doreen (right with her daughter Keziah),
4 generations and 80 years apart!

Sisterhood through the years

"You keep your past by having sisters.  

As you get older, they're the only ones who don't get bored if you talk about your memories."  

~Deborah Moggach

Young women

"A sister is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost."

Marion C. Garretty

Friends through all the years

Shared motherhood.
From left, Shawni, Inel with Jocelyn, Doreen with Keziah and me with Carmen.

Sisters share the scent and smells--the feel of a common childhood.

 Pam Brown

Laughter and silliness

"A sister is a gift to the heart, a friend to the spirit, a golden thread to the meaning of life."  

~Isadora James

Rummaging for photos growing up with Nan

The maternal side of my family was such a key part of my formative years and yet it features so little for me now as an adult.

So I went digging for a few photos this morning and I found a long forgotten letter card addressed to me from Nan dated 29 December 1970, she is replying to a letter I wrote to her.
The letter card is a newsy update all about Christmas, Pa has popped out to buy the newspaper, she thanks us for a lovely bouquet of flowers, congratulates Clive and I on good school results and provides all sorts of detail about people I do not recall.

I chuckled at her love to all the little Wedderburn's - there were 4 of us by then!

Pa, Nan, Edoo, Mom with me as a baby in the foreground, Gus, Selwyn (Mom's brother's) and Dad in the background. Could have been a christening looking at the formality of the occassion.

So have confirmed that the photo above is my christening.
Something I did not know is that Edith Argyle, or Auntie Edoo (as she signed my birthday cards), Nan's stepsister, was my godparent.
This is her signature in my baby album.

Growing up with Mom and Nan in Vanderbijlpark.

Nan with Clive, I am looking put out!

A letter card from Nan, 1970.

For Nan, thank you for your love for a little girl called Sharon:

'We don't receive wisdom, we must discover it for ourselves after a journey that no one can take for us.' 

Marcel Proust

The rhythm of food

'Dr Abbritt...commented on my weight loss and said I must be the envy of all my friends'

Food.

The diary notes include the listing of every meal Mom had during her 6 weeks of cancer treatments at the Hillbrow Hospital, even to the detail of the mixed frozen vegetables she had with lunch.
Her quick pencil notes towards the end of her treatment still provide details of her daily food rhythm.

Throughout my teenage years growing up in Vanderbijlpark I watched my mother diet.
And put me on diets too.
 PET (Proper Eating Training),  Mayo Clinic Diet, Grapefruit Diet, these are just some of the diets that stick with me from this time. Marmite on soft white bread would became Provita and cheese.

I have a vivid recall of a conversation with Mom in her bathroom. She is in the bath, calls me across, asks me to prod my lower abdomen and to compare what I find to what she finds.
She is thin, has lost her weight, having dieted after her last pregnancy and is noticing a lump. This lump was a tumour the size of a tennis ball and the start of her 20 year story with cancer.

The relationship with food is the cantus firmus in my life as well as for my sisters.
The dark and the light.
A constant battle between the appreciation of good food; the love of fresh produce; the joy of cooking and sitting down to eat with family and friends; the delight in the discovery of food as I travel the world; versus the reigning in of our addictive selves where food is not about pleasure nor nourishment but rather about disappointment and heartache.