When I was little, my aunt, the youngest of my mother’s siblings, was the height of sophistication. She lived and worked in Wellington, and had lived overseas, in the exotic if small Solomon Islands. To a little girl (and then a not-so-little teenager) she was proof that there was a life outside my small rural district.
More than that, she was proof that you could grow up there, with no money, and the world could still be your oyster. Because of her, I never questioned that I could have a role in whatever field I chose. She showed that maybe I could belong there too, amongst politicians and journalists and businesspeople. She also proved that women could rise in a man’s world, becoming the editor of Rural Report, the daily radio news programme about developments in rural life and business, so important to NZ’s economy then and now.
At one time, I would have said her role as a successful woman influenced me the most. But these days, I’m not so sure. As I see the advantages that the children of my friends and relatives have because of the experience and careers of their parents, the confidence and even entitlement they have that they deserve to be in these worlds, I see how much harder it was for us. Without Irene as an example, I might have questioned my worthiness more. And believe me, imposter syndrome has me doing that quite often enough!
She also told me, and taught by example, that you didn’t have to be a loud, aggressive journalist to succeed, to get the answers you wanted. That gave me confidence to know that I could achieve the same or better results as a male diplomat or business person by approaching things differently. And experiences proved that.
I still remember the beginning of a line of a feature written about her in “The Listener,” the first time I’d ever read anything about a woman from Waimate in a national magazine.
“You’d think that Irene S had never placed her elegantly-shod feet in anything but an executive shag-pile carpet, but …”
That line just showed me the possibilities of life.
Irene wasn’t a constant presence in our lives. She lived far away, and she wasn’t a great correspondent, and phone calls were rare. But when we saw her, and her gregarious, funny husband, and cool, creative daughter, we had her attention. She never looked down on us. She was calm and kind and, as her sister-in-law said this week, full of grace. A Strong, tranquil, Rose.
We lost Irene this last week. In reality, we lost her some years ago, a particularly difficult situation for my cousin D to deal with. As D said once, “words had been her life, then very quickly words were taken from her.” Her dementia was much more unkind – no, cruel – than that my mother suffered. Her end was peaceful, and for that I am grateful.
My heart this week has been with D and B. Memories of Irene have comforted me, and I hope will continue to comfort them through the next days, weeks, months and years. We were lucky to have her in our lives.
Oh, this gets me teary. And it’s so beautiful. Thanking the universe for Irene!
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I am so sorry for the loss you all have faced. It is hard.
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I’m very sorry for your family’s loss. She sounds like a wonderful person to have had in your life.
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What a lovely tribute to your aunt. 🙂 Dementia is so cruel. 😦 Sending (((hugs))) to you & her family.
As an aside — your comment that “She also taught me that you didn’t have to be a loud, aggressive journalist to succeed, to get the answers you wanted” reminded me of a job interview I had while still in journalism school, for a summer position at a big newspaper in southern Ontario. Several papers sent interviewers to our school towards the end of the year, and all we had to do to get an interview was sign up and show up for the time slot along with our resume. The interviewers were two middle-aged men — obviously seasoned/stereotypical hard-boiled journalists — and towards the end of the interview one of them asked me with a smirk, “Do you think you’re tough enough to do this job?” I know I LOOKED really tough (not!) in my recently acquired tailored suit with a high-collared blouse and the requisite 1980s floppy bow tie (lol) and stiletto heels. 😉 I remember answering that I didn’t think that one necessarily had to be “tough” to get results and that sometimes you caught more flies with sugar than vinegar, or something to that effect. Needless to say I didn’t get the job 😉 Interestingly, some time later I read that the same newspaper was reprimanded by the press council because of its aggressive interviewing tactics — I’m assuming they were talking about the same two guys, or maybe it was just the status quo there. At any rate, I wasn’t upset about losing out on that opportunity!
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Sounds like a lucky escape! I have some other examples of men like this. I might have to post on it.
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With your words, Irene has traveled more widely than she knew. And in those words she lives on.
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Thanks, Susan.
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