[Reading-hall-of-fame] Don Holdaway's Funeral

[Brian Cambourne]

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Dear Colleagues,
I attended Don's funeral ceremony last Friday October 1. It was held in 
the Chapel of Leura Crematorium  from 10.30 till about 1.00pm.
It was a day on which the drought we've been experiencing for the last 
two years started to break, and it rained heavily across Sydney's 
catchment area and beyond. It was a long difficult drive in blinding 
rain, on slippery roads, but as we are wont to say in Oz, " I wouldn't 
have missed it for quids" ( i.e. lots of dollars).

It wasn't a big gathering. Mostly family, with a few professional 
colleagues. Those of you who knew Don well will recall that he 
dedicated his " Foundations of Literacy" to Bacchus and Eros, which was 
one of  Don's subtle reflections on what he valued in life,  love of 
women and convivial relationships with everyone.
These two themes were predominant through out the service. As Frances 
Holdaway said to me when the service began; "Don would be pleased; 
three of his four wives and his ten children are all here, ".  It 
wasn't till the service was almost over that I realised  why she 
thought this way.
Don's elder brother, Barry, ( whom no one could mistake for Don's 
brother) recounted Don's and his early days in NZ.  Don's parents  
owned a dairy farm which  kept them dirt poor. Their house was a 
makeshift dwelling with no plumbing, water or electricity. Don was the 
second youngest of 5 kids. A younger sister was born  a few  years 
after Don, but died when Don was five. Barry told of how they would 
read by candle light, be bathed once a week  using hot water from the 
family copper. Don excelled at sport ( "he was exceptionally strong") 
especially athletics and rowing. He found school easy and excelled 
scholastically. Their mother died when Don was 10, and their dad 
remarried a woman whom they eventually came to love and respect, and 
who taught them things like how to use a serviette and some of the 
other niceties of etiquette. Don  spent a couple of years in the NZ 
navy, enrolled in a university degree which he passed easily and became 
a teacher.

  Then each of his children, ( and some of his grandchildren) each 
delivered their own personal eulogies.  Although each told different 
stories there was something undeniably "Holdaway-ish" about each of 
them. It's hard to identify just what this was. The stories they told 
were emotional but not maudlin,  each obviously had  inherited some of 
Don's linguistic and creative genius,   each obviously loved their 
father deeply, in a way that goes beyond typical familial and/or filial 
love; they also seem to share their dad's  ways of viewing the world, 
his love for literature , poetry, and had embraced his philosophy of 
life, love, and conviviality.
Towards the end of the service others were invited to tell their own 
stories of Don and their experiences with him. Each had the same core 
message: Not only was Don a brilliant teacher, he was a true 
renaissance man. He read an understood philosophy, could memorise poems 
and prose and recite them to illustrate important life- issues. He was 
a creative wood worker,  builder, gardener, and publisher. He was an 
extremely gifted writer, whose legacy will live on long after he's 
gone. He could have easily been a brilliant academic, because 
intellectually he was so far ahead of most of them . And so it went. 
The same message from so many different people whom Don had touched in 
some way.

  As I drove home for some reason, Wiiliam Johnson Cory's poem 
"Heraclitus" kept running through my mind.
They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead;
They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed;
I wept, as I remembered, how often you and I
Had tired the sun with talking, and sent him down the sky.

And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest,
A handful of grey ashes, long, long ago at rest,
Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, awake;
For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take.

	-- William Johnson Cory


Brian Cambourne
Facutly of Education
University of Wollongong
Northfields Rd
Wollongong, NSW 2522
AUSTRALIA
Phone:
Office= Country Code 61 City Code 242 Number 214197
Home 61-246-327232
Fax 61 246-327153
email<brian_cambourne@uow.edu.au
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Dear Colleagues,

I attended Don's funeral ceremony last Friday October 1. It was held
in the Chapel of Leura Crematorium  from 10.30 till about 1.00pm.

It was a day on which the drought we've been experiencing for the last
two years started to break, and it rained heavily across Sydney's
catchment area and beyond. It was a long difficult drive in blinding
rain, on slippery roads, but as we are wont to say in Oz, " I wouldn't
have missed it for quids" ( i.e. lots of dollars).


It wasn't a big gathering. Mostly family, with a few professional
colleagues. Those of you who knew Don well will recall that he
dedicated his " Foundations of Literacy" to Bacchus and Eros, which
was one of  Don's subtle reflections on what he valued in life,  love
of women and convivial relationships with everyone. 

These two themes were predominant through out the service. As Frances
Holdaway said to me when the service began; "Don would be pleased;
three of his four wives and his ten children are all here, ".  It
wasn't till the service was almost over that I realised  why she
thought this way.

Don's elder brother, Barry, ( whom no one could mistake for Don's
brother) recounted Don's and his early days in NZ.  Don's parents 
owned a dairy farm which  kept them dirt poor. Their house was a
makeshift dwelling with no plumbing, water or electricity. Don was the
second youngest of 5 kids. A younger sister was born  a few  years
after Don, but died when Don was five. Barry told of how they would
read by candle light, be bathed once a week  using hot water from the
family copper. Don excelled at sport ( "he was exceptionally strong")
especially athletics and rowing. He found school easy and excelled
scholastically. Their mother died when Don was 10, and their dad
remarried a woman whom they eventually came to love and respect, and
who taught them things like how to use a serviette and some of the
other niceties of etiquette. Don  spent a couple of years in the NZ
navy, enrolled in a university degree which he passed easily and
became a teacher.


 Then each of his children, ( and some of his grandchildren) each
delivered their own personal eulogies.  Although each told different
stories there was something undeniably "Holdaway-ish" about each of
them. It's hard to identify just what this was. The stories they told
were emotional but not maudlin,  each obviously had  inherited some of
Don's linguistic and creative genius,   each obviously loved their
father deeply, in a way that goes beyond typical familial and/or
filial love; they also seem to share their dad's  ways of viewing the
world, his love for literature , poetry, and had embraced his
philosophy of life, love, and conviviality.

Towards the end of the service others were invited to tell their own
stories of Don and their experiences with him. Each had the same core
message: Not only was Don a brilliant teacher, he was a true
renaissance man. He read an understood philosophy, could memorise
poems and prose and recite them to illustrate important life- issues.
He was a creative wood worker,  builder, gardener, and publisher. He
was an extremely gifted writer, whose legacy will live on long after
he's gone. He could have easily been a brilliant academic, because
intellectually he was so far ahead of most of them . And so it went.
The same message from so many different people whom Don had touched in
some way.


 As I drove home for some reason, Wiiliam Johnson Cory's poem
"Heraclitus" kept running through my mind.

<bold><fixed><fontfamily><param>Courier New</param>They told me,
Heraclitus, they told me you were dead;

They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed;

I wept, as I remembered, how often you and I

Had tired the sun with talking, and sent him down the sky.


And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest,

A handful of grey ashes, long, long ago at rest,

Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, awake;

For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take.


	-- William Johnson Cory</fontfamily></fixed><fontfamily><param>Courier</param><bigger><x-tad-bigger>

</x-tad-bigger></bigger></fontfamily></bold>

  

<smaller><smaller>Brian Cambourne

Facutly of Education

University of Wollongong

Northfields Rd

Wollongong, NSW 2522

AUSTRALIA

Phone:

Office= Country Code 61 City Code 242 Number 214197

Home 61-246-327232

Fax 61 246-327153

email<<brian_cambourne@uow.edu.au</smaller></smaller>
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