International Women’s Day – I wonder what Mum would have thought?

My Mum left the planet just over 8 years ago at the age of 83. The last words I said to her over the phone from Florida in the US, in the final moments of her life, were “I love you so much Mum. I will see you among the stars one day.” She left us less than 15 minutes later.

Adelaide, Ethel Toomey, nee Salter, was born on March 4th, 1926. She was the eldest of four girls and the daughter of a Cattle Station Owner, former North Adelaide Footballer and wine merchant. Her home was a 30,000 acre cattle station located between Roma and Surat in what is now commonly known as The Surat Gas Basin in Queensland. She was the great, great granddaughter of William Salter, founder of Saltram Wines in the Barossa Valley.

Barely 5 feet tall, Mum could ride and shoot with the best of them. She also loved to sing. But it was her care for others and her strong desire to relieve suffering wherever it presented itself, that lead her into nursing. Following the completion to her training, she was posted to Mareeba in Far North Queensland, some 2300km away by rail. You could say she was one of the early FIFO workers, except there was no “Fly” and there was no “Out”.

Mum, or Del as she was affectionately known, loved people and she loved to lend a helping hand. She had a quirky sense of humor and was always able to see the funny side of things. She met my Dad, a tobacco buyer from Melbourne, on a blind date in Innisfail in North Queensland, and within weeks they were engaged and within months, married.

After settling in Melbourne and then Horsham where she gave birth to her second child and first daughter, her parents offered them the task of taking over and managing the Cattle Station. They accepted. An adventure for my Dad and a return to her roots for my Mum. Over the next 5 years, three more kids arrived. I was the second of those and fourth all up.

I have many fond memories of those times. Even though I was not even four when my grandparents decided to sell the station and we moved to a Dairy farm outside Toowoomba, I can remember Mum being this completely stable, hard working and deeply loving and affectionate woman. She loved being a mum whilst also being cook for the many station hands.

On the dairy farm, the family grew again with the arrival of two of my younger sisters. We were 7 wild kids, with no TV to distract us. She allowed us to roam with one firm rule – be home before it gets dark. So many fond memories, especially standing in the laundry talking to her while she fed wet sheet after wet sheet (a product of having all but two of her kids being bedwetters), through the ringers of her old Westinghouse washing machine.

In 1967, drought was breaking the bank and my Dad was driving into town at night to work in a pub. Between them, they hatched the idea to sell the farm and buy a pub back out toward Roma, in a town called Miles. Dad thrived in this setting and so did Mum. But it was here I got to see who she really was. My next sibling arrived in 1968, a most unwell little boy who suffered severe asthma and painful eczema. The asthma was so bad that his heart stopped on three occasions. I remember mum walking up and down the corridors of the pub for hours, in the deep of the night, with her little boy, fighting for breath, draped over her shoulder. She fought for his life and was never going to quit, then went about her normal care for the rest of us during the day whilst fulfilling her duties around the pub.

My mum had a deep and enduring resilience fueled by a profound love for her kids and an inexhaustible capacity for care.

Drought once again made life difficult. My parents were keen to put us all through a Catholic Education, so they sold the pub in Miles and bought another in Hoddle street Abbotsford in inner suburban Melbourne, less than a kilometre from the famous Collingwood Football Ground.

This was a tough, working class pub with many immigrants from many countries filling the housing commission high rise flats, seeking to find a way to assimilate into Australian society. Our pub was a melting pot of dock workers, tradesman, truck drivers, factory workers, PMG workers, the odd businessman and many retirees from the neighborhood. And they all loved my Mum. There were many challenges including multiple road fatalities out the front of the pub, wild brawls, brewery strikes and her adventurous kids finding new and exciting ways to get into strife.

While we were there, the last of the 9 kids was born. Mum had it down to a fine art by now, and with 8 other kids to help, my little sister had read at least two novels before starting school.

My Mum and Dad were “givers” and “doers”. Myself, my brother, and all our friends were roaming the streets, so she got together with a couple of other Mums and started a football and cricket club that is still going strong today. A few of us achieved success in football in later life, all because of the start they gave us.

Every year at Christmas Time, Mum would organise a Christmas lunch for all the older lonely people in our neighborhood who had nowhere else to go. We had to wait for our lunch, but it was worth it.

Late in 1976. My folks bought a home in Doncaster and sold the Pub. My Dad’s following Pub ventures were no longer “live in” for the family. Mum loved the house and set about making it a home that had a welcoming and open door to everyone. I used to marvel coming home to find some kid from the neighborhood, sitting up at the bench chatting to mum. The sibling they had come to visit was not home, so they enjoyed some time out with Mum.

At the end of her life, she surpassed doctors’ predictions that she had about 3 weeks left after she went into renal failure. She hung on for another 9 months. My wonderful eldest sister, who has always been single, was by her bedside at every opportunity, sometimes 5 days per week. This was so helpful to me as I was traveling 240 days per year.

Early in December 2012, whilst working in Orlando in Florida, I received a call from one of my brothers that sent me into a deep contemplation, “What is Mum hanging on for? Why won’t she let go?” In those quiet moments I realized Mum had not finished being a Mum to her daughter who perhaps she saw as single, alone, and vulnerable. She could not leave. So, I called.

My sister was with Mum and without saying anything to her, she offered to put the phone to Mum’s ear so I could talk with her. It was during that conversation that I gave her permission to leave, assuring her I would always remain connected to my sister and be there for her.

Over the next few days, I contemplated Mum’s life. Her kindness was her trademark. She did not get caught up in drama or pettiness. She simply took each day as it came, cared for her kids, kept our home safe and helped out wherever and whenever she could in the community. Nothing was too hard for mum. If it was needed, she did it.

She was one hell of a good woman and one deeply amazing human being.

I often wonder what her response would be to international women’s day. Her life was never about recognition, but simply about easing suffering. I imagine she would have asked what it was about, sat for a moment with a big smile on her face whilst she contemplated the changes in her life time, and let the feel of it wash over her, then look at me and say “Would you like a cup of tea?”

* At the time of her passing, Adelaide (Del) Toomey left behind 9 kids, 24 grand kids and 6 great grandkids. That number is now 17 and growing rapidly. A fine legacy from a tiny lady.

#internationalwomensday #mothers #women