Wendy Walking Wednesdays

Another friend has been taken by cancer. Too suddenly for us, but thankfully quickly for her. It is still too soon for me to do more than copy what I will say at her funeral next week:

"Hello

For those who don't know me, my name is Amanda, and Id like to share with you a few stories from my friendship with Wendy. 

We met about 7 years ago in an aquarobics class at our local physiotherapy centre, and for a long time the only two things I knew about Wendy were that she played the violin in a local orchestra and missed her husband a lot when he was away. That might sound odd, but I can remember exactly when the physio mentioned that, because up to then most of the women I'd known didn't much mind at all when their husbands were away! Later I saw for myself how close Wendy and Arthur were, because she often used to arrange an outing or come around for company when he was away, even for just a long day. They also managed to spend months together in the same car, travelling around Australia, and still be speaking nicely to each other when they got back. A eye-opener for me, and completely wonderful.

During a year or so of aquarobics classes I got to know Wendy a bit better, and eventually I asked her if she wanted to join me on some of my regular bushwalks. She was only free on one morning a week, and so began a tradition that lasted for several years - the Wendy Walking Wednesdays. We covered an awful lot of ground, on various bush tracks in Kalamunda, Gooseberry Hill and Lesmurdie. For the first year or two their dog Digger often came along, as did my girl Thika, and it was a sad day when Digger was no longer around. As I huffed and puffed my way up the hills, Wendy would teach me about wildflowers and tell me about various adventures and exploits during her active Guiding years. It was always hard to picture her abseiling down a cliff, because from the beginning to the end of our walks, she looked neat, well-ironed, and above all, clean and perspiration-free - all in stark contrast to myself!

 

For many years she carried a sort of small woven dillybag over her shoulder on our walks. She must have been very attached to it, because she kept using it despite the fact that stuff often fell out, including her keys (which on one occasion were lost forever). We once found a half-dead long-necked tortoise miles from water at the top of a hill, and she put it in that bag so we could try to get it down to Piesse Brook. It must have felt better by the time we reached the top of Hummerston Road, because it climbed out and fell onto the road with a thud. She put it back in the bag and held the top closed from then on, but we were hugely relieved when we finally reached the water and it swam off.

Our most exciting walk was about a year after we'd met, when I slipped down a gravel slope and landed awkwardly. I still feel bad about the very rude word I uttered, because I don't think Wendy ever swore, but I assured her that I'd just twisted my knee. I said I wouldn't be able to walk all the way back up the scarp, so Wendy went on ahead until she could get a phone signal and call someone to meet us at the road, about 2 kms away. I somehow managed to hobble along behind, but I wasn't game to tell her until almost 2 weeks later that in fact I knew at the time that a bone in my lower leg was broken! By then I'd been trapped in my house for 10 days, unable to get my wheelchair through the front door, so Wendy came around with a picnic lunch and managed to get the wheelchair out onto the verandah. I will never forget the completely marvellous feeling of being outdoors and in the fresh air again. 

I have so many stories about Wendy's kindness and understanding, including the time she took me clothes shopping (which I loathe with a passion). She told the shop assistant "I won't be able to keep her in the shop for more than about 10 minutes, so get cracking!" The assistant wisely did so, and I left with my first new clothes for years. 

But I'll finish with her contributions to my 50th birthday. The year before that, on one of our walks, I mentioned a trip I had heard about which went to Iran, and I felt this might finally be my chance to see Persepolis, a lifelong dream. It was a scary prospect, and very expensive, but Wendy solved my dilemma with a simple question: "Will you always wish you'd gone?'. So I went, and it was absolutely, 100% worth it. I might have missed it but for Wendy. 

 

Two days after I got back it was my birthday, and Wendy made me a cake decorated with the most beautiful and life-like WA wildflowers made from icing. They are an exquisite reminder of her talent, her love of nature, and above all her friendship to me. I am now giving them back as my tribute to her, and I hope you get the chance to admire them too. In order to display these flowers today, I've had to use my non-existent craft skills, but I know that despite the amateurish results, Wendy would have made me feel I'd done a great job. That was another of her gifts.
Thank you, Wendy, and thank you to her family for giving me this chance to share part of a friendship which changed my life in so many positive ways."

Vale, dear Wendy. 

Memoria ligna

Translation: "memory trees".

I took these photos on a walk this morning, but I pass these and similar trees every day. They are types of eucalyptus, and their bark is always evocative, for me.

About 15 years ago I lost a very dear friend to cancer while she was in her early 40's. She was a shining star in my life, and taught me far more about living life to the full than I can ever hope to put into practice.

For many years a noted breeder of both Great Danes and Rhodesian Ridgebacks, her house was arranged for both these space-occupying breeds, with stable doors between all the rooms so that the dogs could see what was happening while being prevented from drooling all over guests, each of whom was offered a small towel, just in case.

Her rambling garden was open to the public because of her imaginative interlacing of David Austin heritage rose bushes with Australian native plants. She also had a Welsh Mountain Pony who could hold a beer can in her lips and drink from it with noisy satisfaction.

Sue was a breathtakingly talented artist, whose works sold out in the few exhibitions she bothered to attend. I cherish the one painting of hers that I bought, but her charcoal sketch of my own dogs is one of my most prized possessions.

She was an immensely memorable hostess, and I have admittedly hazy recollections of a number of long afternoons under her garden trees, with an assortment of friends and a succession of bottles and plates of food appearing from nowhere.

We all have faults, and hers was an inability to finish a conversation. A trademark departure involved her husband Bob sitting in the car tooting the horn half an hour after they had both said their "final" farewells.

She also had the enviable knack of instantly understanding what someone really thought about an issue. This could be a little unnerving, because we like to think our less charitable thoughts are private. Case in point: my brother is a terribly successful corporate lawyer who has a very unfortunate tendency to condescension. When I graduated as a doctor, Sue's comment was "Well he can look down his nose all he likes, but he'll never be DOCTOR Anybody". Indeed.
In the same vein, she famously asserted that I only became a doctor to annoy a particularly cliquey dog club of which we were both members at the time. Almost true.

I miss her a lot.

Not long before she died, she said how much she wanted to visit my bush property and paint the wonderful bark of the Wandoo eucalyptus trees. She never made it, so every time I marvel at their patterns, I remember my friend.

Vale, dear Sue.

Laugh, run free, enjoy your departed dogs, and have some chilled strawberry champagne ready for me when I get there.

Politically Correct Seasonal Message

This is my favourite of the "Christmas Greetings" doing the internet rounds at the moment. I defy anyone to take offence at this one!

"Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit, my best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low stress , non- addictive, gender neutral celebration of the summer solstice holiday practiced with the most enjoyable traditions of religious persuasion or secular practices of your choice with respect for the religious / secular persuasions and / or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all.

I also wish you a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2012, but not without due respect for the calendar of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make our country great  (not to imply that Australia is necessarily greater than any other country) and without regard to the race, creed, colour, age, physical ability, religious faith or sexual preference of the wishee.

This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It is freely transferable with no alteration to the original greeting. It implies no promise by the wishee to actually implement any of the wishes for her/him or others and is void where prohibited by law, and is revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher. The wish is warranted to perform as expected within the usual application of good tidings for a period of one year or until the issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the wisher.

Name withheld per Privacy Act."