Follow this tribute and get updates
User avatar
Michael Leahy
12 years ago

I have many fond memories of my morfar, as a boy growing up it was a great adventure to travel from New Guinea to Taronga St where we spent many of our holidays. I remember how exciting it was to wake at 6am when mormor or morfar would fire up the old black and white TV in the back room so we could get our daily fill of the thunder birds. Our time at Taronga St was filled with delicious Danish foods of every type to lengthy games of chaseys around the house. Hiding under the big old fir tree or playing cricket with the masons from across the st. we would often take our lunch on the front porch, fresh bread delivered smothered in leopasteak sandwiches with beetroot and a Shelley’s lemonade. I remember competing for the first glass of milk from a new bottle to get the bulk of the cream. Sometimes in the afternoons morfar would take us up to the corner store near the Esso servo and buy us a paper bag of 1c lollies that were such a treat. On my 4th or 5th birthday morfar who was a great handy man, crafted a wooden rifle that immediately became my pride and joy. It had a leather strap and a bolt. I marched around the house imagining I was like morfar in the underground. He was a gifted handy man and kept his shed in meticulous order, a peace that was shattered whenever we visited. He would disappear into his shed and emerge hour’s later forearms dripping with the evidence of the battles he had in repairing a delinquent item of furniture or fashioning a new fixture for the house. Morfar rarely spoke about his days in the resistance, but when he did it was clear how much it had affected him. Morfar knew that Andrew, my brother, and I spent our days down near the old pipeline that ran along the railway line and crossed the Cook’s river at the railway bridge in Oyster Bay. We used to place coins on the tracks and waited for trains to pass over them to flatten them into small plates of copper. He scolded us but never dobbed us in. One our greatest pleasures was to spend the day travelling by train and ferry to the zoo. We would get the old open bus from the wharf to the zoo gates and we always insisted on seeing every animal in the place. Often morfar would have to carry one or other of us up the hill from Como train station late in the day. Morfar wasn’t a boozer, but he nearly always enjoyed a small Toohey’s throw down for lunch. He also used to break into a broad beaming smile when my dad would buy a bottle of black label from duty free for him when we travelled down from PNG. Morfar was tough; I was a pikininni from the wilds of PNG so I reckoned I had seen some tough men in my life, but none more so than my Morfar. Any man who is prepared to lay down his life to defend his family’s freedom is a special person. The sacrifices he made in his life are to many to list. He was selfless and that was an example to us all. Despite his aliments and obvious discomfort, he never complained or whinged about his lot in life. He was always kind to his carers and was liked by everyone who came into contact with him. He was a gentleman, who loved his family. As has been mentioned he rejoiced in the growing number of great grandchildren and was immensely proud of all his grandchildren, and I know that all of us, Anton, Leif, Seamus, Duncan, Lewis and my brothers and sister all thought the world of him. Pettiness was not for him; he was forgiving and knew how to see the big picture in life. He made us all feel special. I was privileged that I saw Morfar the afternoon before he died. I was able to tell him that I loved him and to give him one last familiar kiss. I knew that day, it would be the last time I would see him. If I am able to be half the man that Morfar was I will be proud of myself. I love you morfar, and I will miss you, but I promise to keep telling my children about you, and wish that they could learn the things from you that I was able to.

User avatar
Michael Leahy
12 years ago

I have many fond memories of my morfar, as a boy growing up it was a great adventure to travel from New Guinea to 2 Taronga St where we spent many of our holidays. I remember how exciting it was to wake at 6am when mormor or morfar would fire up the old black and white TV in the back room so we could get our daily fill of the thunder birds. Our time at Taronga St was filled with delicious Danish foods of every type to lengthy games of chaseys around the house. Hiding under the big old fir tree or playing cricket with the masons from across the st. we would often take our lunch on the front porch, fresh bread delivered smothered in leopasteak sandwiches with beetroot and a Shelley’s lemonade. I remember competing for the first glass of milk from a new bottle to get the bulk of the cream. Sometimes in the afternoons morfar would take us up to the corner store near the Esso servo and buy us a paper bag of 1c lollies that were such a treat. On my 4th or 5th birthday morfar who was a great handy man, crafted a wooden rifle that immediately became my pride and joy. It had a leather strap and a bolt. I marched around the house imagining I was like morfar in the underground. He was a gifted handy man and kept his shed in meticulous order, a peace that was shattered whenever we visited. He would disappear into his shed and emerge hour’s later forearms dripping with the evidence of the battles he had in repairing a delinquent item of furniture or fashioning a new fixture for the house. Morfar rarely spoke about his days in the resistance, but when he did it was clear how much it had affected him. Morfar knew that Andrew and I spent our days down near the old pipeline that ran along the railway line and crossed the Cook’s river at the railway bridge in Oyster Bay. We used to place coins on the tracks and waited for trains to pass over them to flatten them into small plates of copper. He scolded us but never dobbed us in. One our greatest pleasures was to spend the day travelling by train and ferry to the zoo. We would get the old open bus from the wharf to the zoo gates and we always insisted on seeing every animal in the place. Often morfar would have to carry one or other of us up the hill from Como train station late in the day. Morfar wasn’t a boozer, but he nearly always enjoyed a small Toohey’s throw down for lunch. He also used to break into a broad beaming smile when my dad would buy a bottle of black label from duty free for him when we travelled down from PNG. Morfar was tough; I was a pikininni from the wilds of PNG so I reckoned I had seen some tough men in my life, but none more so than my Morfar. Any man who is prepared to lay down his life to defend his family’s freedom is a special person. The sacrifices he made in his life are to many to list. He was selfless and that was an example to us all. Despite his aliments and obvious discomfort, he never complained or whinged about his lot in life. He was always kind to his carers and was liked by everyone who came into contact with him. He was a gentleman, who loved his family. As has been mentioned he rejoiced in the growing number of great grandchildren and was immensely proud of all his grandchildren, and I know that all of us, Anton, Leif, Seamus, Duncan, Lewis and my brothers and sister all thought the world of him. Pettiness was not for him; he was forgiving and knew how to see the big picture in life. He made us all feel special. I was privileged that I saw Morfar the afternoon before he died. I was able to tell him that I loved him and to give him one last familiar kiss. I knew that day, it would be the last time I would see him. If I am able to be half the man that Morfar was I will be proud of myself. I love you morfar, and I will miss you, but I promise to keep telling my children about you, and wish that they could learn the things from you that I was able to.

User avatar
Ole Pedersen
12 years ago

My first memory of Uncle Anker was of him in his dark uniform, helmet and arm bandolier representing the Danish resistance movement on the closing day of WW2 in Copenhagen May 4th/May 5th 1945, on his way as guard of the royal family at the Amalienborg, the Royal Palace. I was six. The following years I visited him after school numerous times in his guard compound of General Motors in Copenhagen close to his home. Around the time I was 8 or 9 years old he and my dad took me boating on one of the lakes in Copenhagen. I fell over board, and would have drowned if this strong man had not pulled me out of the water like a drowned cat by the neck. Up on to his Nimbus motorcycle and straight back to my mom. Pretty chocked I belive she was. He was my great hero, and still today after all these years, I believe my only true hero. After he and his family moved to Australia i 1956, I visited him and my extended Family several times i Sydney and Adelaide, starting in 1974 and the following 20 years during my busy global travelling years as a danish shipping excecutive. A wonderful person, full of life and laughter. I will allways treasure in my hearth the fund memories of him.

User avatar

×
We use technologies like cookies to store and/or access device information. We do this to improve browsing experience and to show (non-) personalized ads. Consenting to these technologies will allow us to process data such as browsing behavior or unique IDs on this site. Not consenting or withdrawing consent, may adversely affect certain features and functions.
Functional Always active
Statistics
Marketing
Accept Deny Manage Save
Privacy Policy