Memories of My Mother, Kathleen Little, by George Little
1921-2008
I always would ask my mother what her middle name was. Middle names were important in our family and there was a reason for each of the ones given to me and my brothers. But mum would never tell me her middle anme. She never did. I found it out many years later from my brother Andrew. Her middle name was Minnie, which I think embarrassed her, but I remember with a lot of fondness. It was her mother’s name. Maybe someone in succeeding generations might pick that up again.
In all my early memories of my family, mum is always there. I have a distinct memory of her taking Andrew and I fishing below the weir in St George in western Queensland, where I was born. She didn’t know much about fishing. She just knew that we loved it. We didn’t catch any fish that day but I caught a life long memory.
Mum always cared for us. She was devoted to her three sons. I wasn’t the easiest child and she was very patient with me. I remember she would reheat the porridge from breakfast and give it to me after school. It was a little lumpy and too this day that is the way I really like it. I could never understand why people disliked lumpy porridge.
When I decided to answer the call to preach the gospel mum didn’t understand it at all. She always emphasized getting a conventional education and building your life on that. The idea of her troublesome son becoming a preacher just didn’t fit into her plans for me. Over the years she got used to the idea and for many years now she has spoken proudly of her son, the preacher. I was so glad she finally came around.
I was able to be with mum for a few days a couple of weeks ago. My son, Ben and I, would come and visit her at the Gold Coast Hospital a couple of times a day. She was so happy to see us and we were glad we could talk with her and spend time with her in her last few days. Ben wore a sports jersey one day with pinstripes on it. She made sure she commented how much she liked it. She always liked a man in pinstripes.
In our family there is a much told story of the day when mum, Julie and I and the grandsons were walking on the piers at the Broadwater looking at all the expensive and beautiful yachts. I think Ben was around 10 years old. Mum said to him, “Ben, when you grow up, will you buy one of these yachts for me.” Without missing a beat Ben replied, “Don’t be silly Granny you will be dead by then!” too which mum laughed herself silly. And she did the same thing every time we retold the story. Well, she has passed on now and somehow I think that she is still laughing and enjoying being with God. Mum always loves a good laugh. One day we will all join her there and have a good laugh.
