Edward Issac Penny

submitted by Noelene Starr, 11.12.2004

My first vivid memories of my father go back to 1943, when I was 5 years old. We were cycling along Oromahoe Road, between the old farm house entrance and the next bridge. I was sitting on the handlebars, being "doubled" to school. Suddenly, the front wheel hit a big stone on the metalled road, the bicycle jumped sideways, and I went flying over the bars, and on to the road. There were lots of tears, naturally. But my memory is of a kind and caring man, who was very upset that this had happened. Amid the tears, and wiping up of blood and bits of metal, I remember a warm and fuzzy feeling that my father cared about me a great deal. This feeling stayed with me for the rest of his days.However, this was reciprocal, and I well recall how upset I could be if I did anything to upset my father, and how I would go to many lengths to show how contrite I was! Although Dad never demanded penance, or held a grudge that I could see for any length of time, I always knew when he didn't approve of something I had done, and was never comfortable with that.

Dad was a very hard working man. I have clear memories of him working from daylight to dark, and sometimes even beyond that, when we were on the farm at Koutu. Those were the days of the depression. Money and food was scarce, and the children kept arriving. We all had our jobs to do, and as we got older, the jobs increased in responsibility, and time. I well remember the job that I hated the most. It was to boil the copper, and make sure there was plenty of hot water for the kids Sunday baths. Somewhere along the way, I learned to cook huge meals for the family. I recall mum being in hospital, having produced John, and I was in charge of the dinner. The dishes were piled up on the bench, and I was waiting for the water to boil to get the dishes done. Dad came up behind me and told me to go to bed, as I had been such a good girl, he was sure that the fairies would do the dishes for me. Still being young enough to believe in fairies, and glowing from the praise delivered, I went to bed in an euphoric state. It was of no surprise to me that the dishes WERE done in the morning, and when I finally realised that my loving and over worked father had in fact done them; my respect for him grew even further.

Around this stage in my life, I realised that dad was an excellent cook. He made the most delicious scones, and cooked many hearty meals for us all. Later, I wondered how on earth he had learned to do this. I can only put it down to the skills of Granny Lemon, who brought him up.

As we grew older, we were expected to work in the cowshed. One of my particular jobs was to feed the calves, after the milking. On occasions, when a rebel calf would not take his head out of a stall to let another one in, I was required to tap it gently on the head to encourage it to move. Several times, when this did not work, a furious Dad came up behind me and whacked the calf so hard that it dropped dead in its tracks. Nobody said anything, but dad would be later in for dinner on those nights. There was a hole to be dug! Such was the pressure that he was under, in bringing up a large family in trying times. I never knew of my father ever taking a holiday to ease some of the stress.

My father taught me to drive. We had an Essex, which started with a crank. I don't know how we ever afforded to buy it! It was big, square, and black. Plenty of kids could fit in it!. Dad was patience personified over the weeks he taught me how to drive. It was no easy task, with double clutching needed on every gear change. One of the few times I recall Dad telling me off in a big way was to do with a driving lesson. We were driving down the hill on Koutu Road when Nick, his favourite dog, ran out in front of me. I swerved to dodge him, somehow managed to stop going over the cliff face, and ground to an unsteady stop. I then received a huge telling off about how our lives were more important than a dogs life, and I was never ever to swerve to miss an animal, as I had just done. I often think of dad when I dodge opossums these days!!

The time came when he considered that I would be fit to sit for my license. l was 15years old. However, that wasn't the end of it. Before I was allowed to sit for my license, I had to learn how to change a tyre and fix a fuel block. Both were common occurrences in those days. Over the years I have often had to change a tyre but have never had to fix a fuel blockage.

Dad always encouraged us to participate in sport. He was always there, watching us play tennis, take part in inter school sports, encouraging us to take part in the New Year Sports at Waiotemarama, etc. But his huge love was rugby. When we moved back to the Bay of Islands he encouraged all the boys to play rugby. He coached, managed, chaired; in fact did everything within his power to involve himself with his sons in the game. Although he was asked to move to higher appointments within the North Auckland Rugby, he always maintained his strength was with the youth in the game, and stayed with them until all the boys had completed their Rugby careers. Dad became a life member of the Moerewa Rugby Club.

Dad‘s other passion was education. He was a member of the Pakanae School Committee and worked hard with the teachers to do what he could for the betterment of the children. To this day, I don't know he managed to do it, but his two older sons were sent to Boarding School at Northland College, and when Wyn was old enough to work in the cowshed, I was sent off to private boarding, to be given the chance to improve my education as well. Then when we moved back to the Bay of Islands, the rest of the family were able to bus to bigger Secondary schools.

Dad was not a violent man. However, there were occasions when he would finally burst. When he did, everyone got out of his way!!! Mum knew just how far she could go without him reaching the boiling point. He never hit me, but I well remember the boys getting not just a slap, but quite substantial hidings. These usually occurred when dad was very tired, and the "boys will be boys" happenings got out of hand.

In his later days, dad was a member of the Moerewa Community Board, and spent many hours working for the good of the community. Apart from giving the dogs a healthy piece of tongue at times, I never heard my father use bad language around our home, or in public. He was always very circumspect in mixed company. I can't ever recall bad language being used in our home at all, and to this day I have an aversion towards the common use of it being acceptable.

My father was a wonderful man, ahead of his time in many things. He supported not only his family, but also many others in times of stress or need. As he grew older, and relaxed more, we saw a mainly good humoured man, who lived life to the full. It was a sad day for many people when he died suddenly, at aged 60, with a brain haemorrhage.

I know that he would be very proud to have known how well his children and grandchildren have done. Much of it is because of his teaching and role modelling.

Noelene Starr, 11.12.2004