Vulture Street story

It must have been devastating for Dad when his mother died when he was 41. That was when he went to sea as a marine engineer. It was also when he decided, on the advice of his mother, to regularly donate some of his generous estate (at this stage they owned five houses, one built by Dad and Gran) to the Blue Nurses, a new service being established at the West End Methodist Mission.

It was as a result of those donations that he came to marry the “little deaconess” Marie Young (nee Millett).

Six weeks after Mum and Dad met they were engaged, and six months later they were married. No wonder that the first time Grandpa Millett met Mum’s sailor suitor he took him to one side and asked him whether his intentions were honourable!

Despite being 46 Dad almost immediately embarked with Mum for Canada where he hoped to gain experience on diesel engines, and a Commonwealth Chief Engineer’s certificate.

He did that, and more. He bought and furnished a house, had three children - myself, Bronwyn and Hélène - and spent a number of seasons working on ships on the British Columbian Coast, and in the Arctic Ocean.

Back in Australia he divided his time between his family, the ships, and his various houses, particularly those at Currumbin. I say divided, but those three things weren’t separate. We all lived and breathed sea, ships, surf, house maintenance and renovations.

He was active in whatever organisations were to hand - church, P&Cs, P&Fs and lodge. He worked mostly on oil tankers. Then, aged 62, he spent the last three years to “retirement” as the leading hand fitter at the Royal Brisbane Hospital, where he was also the union rep.

But retirement didn’t mean anything changed. In 1977 when our rental house at 485 Vulture Street burnt down he used its charred remains to build an extension on 483 Vulture Street. In 1987 we sold his beloved Currumbin property - by now an acre of beachfront land and went into the property development business.

And it was in his retirement that his family grew, with three marriages and 6 grandchildren, something I’m sure the newly married 45-year-old Lionel would not have thought he would live to see.

Even in his last years when the world was closing in on Dad because of deafness and bad eye-sight, he still kept working at something. Three weeks ago he was still cutting his own lawn. Three years ago he climbed Mount Warning including the last 200 metres, which is a rock climb.

When the end came, it came quickly. Monday last week he wanted to go to hospital. It might have been his heart, but it was probably that you can’t run an engine as long and as hard as he had without it just wearing out - particularly if bread and dripping is one of your favourite lubricants.

There are a number of strong themes to Dad’s story.