Eulogies

The Mother Cat

Some time after Sam the cat passed away in Petone, we hatched a plan: Dad was to receive a new creature to care for.

On his birthday, Dad begrudgingly agreed to take a drive without knowing the destination, a prospect that knowing him will have generated a level of inner turmoil we will never fully fathom. Nonetheless, Victor, Karolina, Dad and I arrived at the SPCA on Mt Victoria. Upon arrival Dad asked:

"What are we doing here?"

"We're getting you a kitten for your birthday, Dad."

I don't recall his exact reply. It might have been "I don't need a bloody cat" or another typical Graeme response, but there was no fire in it.

As we made our way through the SPCA centre, I watched him soften up to the idea of another furry person to keep him company. The pickings were slim, one scrawny black floof behind the cage to choose from, aloof and not particularly interested in the humans outside the bars. He was perfect. Dad named him Panther.

Once home, Dad quickly became the mother-cat for Panther. He took to the task by setting up his office den/bedroom to be kitten-friendly, with bed, litter tray, and a baby-gate to keep Panther safe from the savage Schnauzer, Isabella.

Graeme's adopted floof slept through the night and napped during the day at the foot of his bed, never more than a headbutt's distance away from Dad who spent many hours beside Panther at his computer reading, writing, or keeping in touch with his network of old boys over email.

The Role Model

As a father, Dad was a great role model on the importance of hard work. He once told me he had never taken a day off sick, and while I can't verify the accuracy of that, I always felt it was a good standard to aspire to. So to me, growing up exposed to how seriously Dad took his work created a solid foundation in my own approach to life.

Dad always had something to say; it was this thoughtful, opinionated energy that fueled his various career escapades. As the editor of the Honda New Zealand company magazine distributed to all Honda owners throughout the land, he discovered fertile ground to explore his talent as a writer and photographer.

We got used to Dad bringing home a different car every week; the magazine constantly demanded fresh stories and camera angles which in hindsight must have put Dad to the test. How much can one say about cars? How to keep it fresh?

The zenith of this period for me was in 1990, a year after Dad's job uprooted the family from Wellington to Auckland. Dad pulled up at home in the jaw-dropping Honda NSX supercar in red, the only one in New Zealand at the time. Dad invited my brother and me for a spin; it being a 2-seater meant I had to sit on Dan's lap. A core memory was created that day.

Over a decade later I was still working hard to emulate the exhilarating experience Dad took us on around the same twists and turns of Point View Drive in Whitford in my somewhat more modest but if you squint NSX-adjacent 1994 Honda Integra 1800 jap import.

Around 1998-1999 Honda went through restructuring and Dad found himself without a job. It must have been a very stressful time for him. Luckily, as Dad had built up a great network of contacts throughout the car industry and media circles he was able to pivot to becoming a freelance motoring writer.

New cars kept arriving in the driveway; big ones, small ones, fast ones, ugly ones of all makes and models. Whenever a new car arrived Dad would drop the keys on the kitchen bench and I would race down to sit in the driver's seat to push all the buttons and figure out how everything worked. He would bring home the magazines he was writing for including Driver magazine and New Zealand Autocar. As Allan Dick, editor in chief of Driver put it "Graeme understood the motor industry like he had studied it at university and got a degree".

I remember labouring over his writing, trying to understand the meaning of his cleverly drawn cartoons, the ever-present "droll", sardonic wit permeating each piece. Over time I became an expert on every new car on the road because I wanted to be like him. So, while Dad was not so much of a "hands on" kind of father, I was heavily influenced by the seriousness and professionalism he brought to his work for which I will be forever grateful.

"...I was heavily influenced by the seriousness and professionalism he brought to his work for which I will be forever grateful."

As another commenter put it "a very lovely and knowledgeable man. Continued to correct my grammar via email until a few years ago!".

The Social Animal

Graeme, an introvert (when sober), built up a social fabric that was a crucial part of his life. His early career began working his way up the corporate ladder at Ford, in Sales and Marketing, Dealer Operations, and as a Zone Manager. When his time at Ford ended he took on a new role as the secretary for the FOOLS (a.k.a the Ford Officers and Oldboys League of Stalwarts), a strictly social club with quarterly meetings and well documented minutes, which I understand Graeme still contributed to from Queenstown and which still runs to this day.

As one FOOL commented on Facebook "He was one of the good guys and dry as he was he was still good company, especially at lunch!".

The social connection remained an integral part of Graeme's life and his regular routine involved a religious expedition to the Petone working men's club to worship a jug of Tui with his mates every Friday night.

I remember warmly how much Dad enjoyed putting on a feast, whether the Sunday roast with his perfect pork crackling, or a BBQ with prawns, sausages, and steak. The dinnertime conversations were always an entertaining and well lubricated affair, an opportunity to experience an unfiltered Graeme in full flow, all his opinions, and his often inappropriate but still lovable witticisms.

If you were lucky, after dinner Dad would perch at the piano and regale the family with his jaunty interpretations of classic tunes such as "The Entertainer". Because deep down, Dad loved to entertain, to be provocative, to joke with and get a rise out of people, to be a good host, and most of all to tell stories.

"Deep down, Dad loved to entertain, to be provocative, to joke with and get a rise out of people, to be a good host, and most of all to tell stories."

The Softer Side of Graeme

So it was that this cheeky character with his mischievous grin somehow managed to capture the heart of Christine. You will have to ask Mum for the stories of their courtship, however Graeme's love and devotion to her was plain as day. Dad was very fortunate to find such a loving, loyal, and selfless companion to share his life with.

In later life, Dad's often tough exterior experienced by his three children began to soften as the weight of responsibilities brought by providing for them passed, and he became a proud grandfather to six more. He bloody loved his grandchildren, always asking after them, looking forward to visits, and for my kids we came to rely on Graeme for school pickups and he always ensured they were well entertained with cartoons until Mum or I came to pick them up after work.

As I entered fatherhood, I came to appreciate that deep down underneath the layers of generational baggage and a lack of vocabulary to adequately describe his feelings, Graeme was a sensitive soul. You could read it in the small things, like the hidden longing beneath the text messages that read "you've been quiet lately", and the depth of his gaze, especially around his grandchildren.

"You could read it in the small things, like the hidden longing beneath the text messages that read 'you've been quiet lately', and the depth of his gaze, especially around his grandchildren."

A Lasting Imprint

When it comes down to it, we are all born of star dust thrown off by the suns at the centre of our solar systems, coalesced and drawn into orbit under their watchful light. On a cosmic scale we're brought together for only the briefest of moments, the gravity of the stars from which we are born giving us purpose, their light giving us a chance to learn to shine ourselves.

Thank you Dad, for your selfless devotion and for giving so much to the world. You have left a truly unique dent in the universe that will not be forgotten quickly, or without a wry grin.