Eulogies for Joan Brown
Delivered by Darryl Brown (Joan’s son) at the Requiem Mass 11 November 1994
We are all here today to celebrate the life of my mother, Joan. From the large and varied group gathered here, we can see that mum has been involved with many different people, and many different activities, in her 69 years with us.
It was late in 1971 that the Browns moved to Armidale from Sydney to take up the lease on the shop near the hospital. In those days it was just 224 Rusden St, not the 11 pm shop that it is known as now. That was a busy five years for our family, as the shop was a twelve hour a day, seven day a week venture. It was at this time that mum started watching her 'soaps', as that was her time to sit down and rest for a while. The ‘soaps' remained a part of mum's daily routine from then on.
After the shop, mum and dad built their home in Oak Tree Drive [number 3], which has been the base for the Browns ever since. It was a house that always had an open door to any visitors. Friends of ours were always encouraged to drop in, and I remember often ending a night out with friends having coffee in the rumpus room. Dinner parties were always carried out on a grand scale, with two tables often joined together in the lounge room to allow everyone to enjoy both the food and company as one group. One night, I remember playing 'musical chairs' between courses, which involved half the people getting up and swapping with someone else. On other occasions, we would have the family to visit, and beds would appear from nowhere to cater for the additional bodies. Apparently, our then new neighbours thought that a house of ‘ill repute' had been set up next door when they saw bed after bed being carried in.
The Brown’s home at 3 Oaktree Drive, Armidale
Mum worked at the Banana Man fruit shop for many years. Great quantities of fresh fruit and vegetables were always a feature of our diet, and only the very best quality. We were taught many of the tricks of the trade - to smell a rockmelon to see if it is ripe, how to pull a piece from the centre of the pineapple to check it, to put an avocado and a banana in a paper bag together to ripen the avocado - it seems like most fruit shop folklore centres around whether something is ready to eat or not.
One of mum's loves was tennis, a love that she shared with many of her brothers and sisters. In the days before videos, she would sit up all night to watch Wimbledon, ending up a bit bleary eyed by the end of the finals (even when we did have a video, she still often stayed up to watch it live as it ‘wasn't the same' after the event). She played tennis each week with her 'tennis ladies', and for a number of years, headed down to Sydney each October to see the Australian Indoor Tennis at the Entertainment Centre.
Joan and Helen shaping up for a “friendly” game, circa 1945
Another love was cooking. Sponges, cakes, biscuits - all sorts of goodies would be produced in the kitchen at Oak Tree Drive. If mum acquired some duck eggs she would be in seventh heaven, as these were one of her secret ingredients for the perfect sponge. Another was to beat the eggs furiously in the Kenwood chef for 15 minutes, invariably early on a Saturday morning. But the end result was worth it.
But the thing that I will miss most are the fruit cakes. These were a work of art, with months of preparation and love going into each one. Out would come the dried fruit, the glace fruit, the nuts and the ginger to be weighed, chopped and soaked in great quantities of brandy, rum and sherry for months on end. Occasionally the lid of the Tupperware would be opened to inspect the mix, and you had to stand back or be knocked out by the fumes. Compared to this ritual, the actual making of the cake was a bit of an anti-climax.
As far as special occasions went, these were not complete without a fruit cake. ‘Mum, you're going to be a grandmother again' one of us would announce, to which would come the reply ‘Oh, isn't that wonderful. I'll start soaking the christening cake now.' Then the fateful day of the cutting would come, and mum would worry about whether it would be moist enough. To be caught with a dry fruit cake would have been the ultimate shame for her.
The other thing that I remember about mum and fruit cakes was the dreaded mixed peel - she hated it. Somehow though she always managed to end up with about a dozen pieces in her hand after eating someone else's cake, while the rest of us would barely notice that we had eaten any mixed peel at all.
Mum has fought her cancer for about 12 years all up. During that time, she had her ups and downs, but always had a very positive attitude. I'm sure that it's that attitude that helped her more than any treatment. One of mum and dad’s friends recently told me that dad once described mum as being like a brick wall in that she ‘stands up to whatever this disease throws at her'. I agree with dad's sentiment completely.
Mum was a special person, one who no one here will forget. I know that we, her children, will remember her forever, but especially so this Christmas when we get to eat the fruit cake that she made earlier this year. Will it be nice and moist? We'll just have to wait until the cutting and see.
Delivered by Cyril O'Brien (Joan’s brother) at the Requiem Mass 11 November 1994
Joan was a remarkable person. All through her life she displayed exceptionally strong characteristics.
Her religious faith, her love of family and of people in general, her courage and determination, her organising ability, her sense of humour epitomised by her infectious laughter were of the highest order.
My earliest recollection of these characteristics being displayed was when she was about five years old. With great enthusiasm she assumed the role of our father's carer. Each evening when he came in from work, his slippers would be seen exactly together beside his lounge chair near the fireplace. The tobacco pouch, cigarette papers, matches and spectacles were arranged neatly on the mantle shelf and the newspaper on the chair. This continued all through Dad's life. Nothing was a trouble if it was for Dad.
That is not to say she neglected others. She was always amongst the first volunteers when something was to be done for the family or friends; whether it was to care for children or prepare a feast.
Her speed and enthusiasm were something to behold when the family were preparing for a party or a meal. She always assumed control and threw orders around like the best of sergeant majors. The air was electric but the result exemplary.
During the last couple of years her courage and resignation came to the fore. Deep down she knew what fate was in store for her. But when asked how she felt it was always a cheerful "I'm alright, I’m fine!!
We all believe that it was sheer courage and determination that enabled her to carry on until Gwen and Claire arrived home from their overseas trip. They had only a few days together before she succumbed to the inevitable.
I think a fair measure of hers and Keith's characters is displayed in their four children and I give them ten out of ten for their conduct during this trying time.
On behalf of the Brown and O'Brien families I wish to thank the good fathers and friends of the family for their unstinting care and attention to Joan all through her illness. They no doubt helped her substantially on her journey to eternal happiness which she must now be enjoying.
May God bless and care for her. She deserves the best.
Written by Darryl Brown and Cyril O’Brien, compiled by Rob Landsberry, last modified 29 May 2023