Chapter 6 Embarrassing my Brother

Chapter 6

Embarrassing my Brother

Peter took me to The Embers Nightclub in South Yarra one Saturday night. That was the first time I had been to a dance in fourteen years. Peter was a terrific dancer and he didn’t seem to mind that I was a bit rusty.

The comedian appearing at the nightclub was an American, Tommy Hanlon Junior. He was getting very little response when he asked the audience where they were from. Maybe it was too early in the evening and the patrons hadn’t had enough to drink yet - not enough to loosen their inhibitions. Tommy was about to leave the stage when I called out to him:

“You didn’t ask me where I came from.” My brother looked decidedly embarrassed. This was something I never did at home, years ago, when I wanted to get a laugh. I usually preferred to be far away from home, among friends who appreciated my sense of humour. Peter would have to get used to my impromptu sense of fun; he had a lot to learn about his sister!

“But honey, I’m sure you are going to tell us, aren’t you?” The comedian now had a response from his audience. I have always believed that it only takes one to turn any situation around!

“I live on the tornado belt in the United States - I’m from Iowa.” I had Tommy’s full attention.

“That’s not the only belt you live on - you live on the Bible belt too. And don’t they say that Iowa is where all the hicks come from?” Tommy was now on a roll - he now had his audience back. He had plenty of hick jokes to tell, and poked fun at me while Peter sat quietly in his chair, unsure where to look. I loved being a stooge in the audience for a professional entertainer!

Tommy came over to our table and said he enjoyed the rapport we had going, and he knew the audience loved it too. He wanted to know where I was born. “You’re not originally from Iowa, are you?”

“I was born in Melbourne, married a US soldier, and went to the States as a war bride in 1946. I was also an entertainer during the war, so I also know what it’s like to die in front of an audience.”

“Oh brother! Tell me about it! Comedy is the hardest thing in the world to do,” Tommy confessed. He was seriously thinking of settling in Australia - he liked the Australian audiences.

I know Peter saw a side of me that night that really surprised him. Despite his embarrassment, we really did have a great night out. We were now both adults and we found it to be a levelling experience.

I was his surrogate mother for years; when he was a small child I took care of him when he was very ill. We shared a room in the two-roomed bungalow at number 32 from when he was a small baby. I helped him with his schoolwork, taught him to say his prayers and bought him his first puppy.

(I used to have to cover a laugh when Peter said The Lord’s Prayer: “Our Father, who walked in heaven, Harold be His name.”)

The next day we packed a picnic lunch and drove along the coast road. At 8pm we watched the penguin’s parade on the beach at Port Phillip Bay. A group of people joined us on the sand, each with a torch, watching the penguins emerge from the ocean, their bellies full of fish waddling up the beach to their rookeries to feed their offsprings. It was a fascinating parade that lasted for hours.

Peter later drove me to Dromana to stay with my brother Syd, his wife Nancy and their three children. Syd and I never had the same close relationship that Peter and I experienced. I was more Syd’s banker, always good for a loan. Syd was a clone of our father and a heavy drinker - he even sounded like our dad.

My thoughts turned back the clock to the time Syd, at 14 years of age, got his first job with a firm in Melbourne that made tea chests for Bushells Tea. His boss, a middle-aged man, took a liking to Syd and appeared to favor him over the other young apprentices. Syd was told that his boss had no children of his own and his wife was crippled and confined to a wheelchair.

He invited Syd to go away with him for a weekend in the country, and Mum and Dad gave their permission for him to go even though they had never met Syd’s boss. These trips became more frequent over the following years and Syd was seldom at home. Our parents never questioned this strange relationship. They invited his boss, Mr Grant, to come to our house and meet our family after he had given Syd money to buy a motorcycle. He also indulged Syd with new clothes and many expensive trinkets, things Syd couldn’t afford on his salary. Mum and Dad attended this man as if he was a visiting dignitary.

In all honesty, I could say I had never met a person whom I did not like at a first encounter, but I took an immediate dislike to Mr Grant - I didn’t trust him. When I asked how his crippled wife managed without him while he was away so often on weekends, he flushed and looked rather uncomfortable. He explained that their daughter took care of her when he was away.

“Syd said that you didn’t have any children, Mr Grant!” I prodded.

“Oh! Yes, that’s partly true. It’s um, um, my wife’s daughter. She has been married before, you understand?” He was looking daggers at me. None of the family noticed that I had struck a nerve.

When I asked him if he was visiting friends at the country hotel where he and Syd stayed, my Father told me to stop being so personal and disrespectful to my elders. Mr Grant fidgeted and flushed some more and Dad saved him from having to answer. I had opened up a Pandora’s Box, enough to give my parents a chance to pursue my line of questioning. They didn’t do it! They didn’t have a clue that they needed to question the motives of Mr. Grant. As a 15-year-old girl I didn’t have a clue, either, why I mistrusted that man, but my intuition made me uncomfortable with the atmosphere.

My dad asked me to leave the kitchen with him on the pretext of getting wood for the fire, and then he reprimanded me for asking personal questions and being very rude to our guest. I told Dad that I felt Mr. Grant was not being honest with him. My father would not allow me to return to the kitchen, accusing me of being jealous of Syd’s good fortune.

I was sent to my room, and as I couldn’t ask any more embarrassing questions, Mr. Grant had won the day. My two brothers were as different as chalk and cheese!

Later that week I caught up with many friends and enjoyed meeting their families, but apart from the fact that we had husbands, children, a house and a backyard, we had little in common. My friends didn’t have very stimulating conversation about their own lives or outside interests. It was natural to expect that none of us had changed at all, but so many of my old friends seemed unhappy with their lot in life. They thought I was the one who lived the exciting life. All I did was to talk about meeting Maurice Chevalier and their lives were enriched - by the mere mention of his name!

Change is healthy as long as you are going forward. I couldn’t go back to the way it had been with my friends. Come to think of it, if I did lead an exciting life it was because I made it happen! It was all in my attitude towards life.

“Oh Ruth! I wish I could have done some of the things you have done,” Maureen exclaimed. “All I seem to do is get up in the morning, cut lunches, get the kids off to school, do the washing and the housework, then they are back home again. I’ve only got two kids, you’ve got four!”

“Listen to yourself Maureen! There is no lustre in your voice; no determination or plan in your life. You’ve forgotten those all-night sessions we had, when we talked about our expectations and how wonderful it was going to be, settling down with the man we loved after the war. What happened Maureen?” She was looking to me to help her recapture the way it was when she was first married. I assured her that nothing stayed the same; that it was up to her to change her way of thinking and be more positive; that she should let her husband know how she was feeling, and organize for quiet moments to talk uninterrupted.

We planned a night out together for dinner and a movie while her husband took care of the children. We never did get to the movie; we stayed at the restaurant till they asked us to leave. Just like old times.