The Passing of Jean Elizabeth O'Donnell (nee Lodge)
Pretty close to 6:30 a.m. on Saturday the 25th of February, my older sister Jean signed out from this life and moved on to whatever comes next for all the atoms that came together from the Universe to form the molecules and cells that comprised her. Sometime after losing her lifetime husband in October of 2011, being Robert (Bob) John O’Donnell, she started to develop early-onset dementia. About four years ago she went into care.
Jean started her journey here on Earth in Morawa on the 3rd of July 1942 in a small agricultural town 400 kilometres almost due North of Perth. She was the second child of three and the only daughter of Sydney Walker Lodge and Myrtle Lodge (nee Powell).
When I came along in June of 1953 she was already 11 years old. I was her (much) younger little brother. Her older brother, Robert, was some four years older than her.
The picture at right is of Robert and Jean in front of the family home in Morawa.
By the time I came along my brother had moved on as part of his work with the Post Master General’s (PMG) department, which is now Australia Post.
My mother indicated to me on a number of occasions that my sister Jean contributed significantly to my upbringing at least up until I started primary school, at which time I would have been five or six.
It would have been soon after that when Jean left Morawa and headed for Perth with Bob, who, I think, at that time was her fiancé.
As you would expect, memories of my time back then with my sister Jean are faint. Barely there. But I can recall sitting in the back of her boyfriend’s car (being Bob O’Donnell) on a number of occasions. I am pretty sure that Bob had a Holden. Possibly even an FJ holden.
In this picture (above), as best I can make out, Bob is either getting a pram out of his car or folding up a pram to put into his car. Probably for me. And Jean is still sitting in the passenger’s seat looking across at whoever it is taking this picture.
I can also just remember Jean going to ‘jive’ dances out at the lakes. Out at the lakes—the location of which was just out of town on the Morawa to Kadji road, or Morawa to Yalgoo road if you prefer—someone in her group had a shack or a house. On some occasions I got taken along with her to these dances and I can remember that this building on the lakes had a stable/barn style door. I can’t remember if it was the entry door or was a door inside the building somewhere. But I do remember that this split top and bottom door intrigued me and I liked running under it when the top part was closed.
I have tried hard to remember who it was that owned this house or shack at the lakes. But, sadly, I cannot. It was one of the guys in the group of people she moved with back then.
In the picture at right we have Jean taking me to a fancy dress ball in Morawa. I am obviously a sailor. I am not too sure what Jean went as.
I am not too sure how Jean met Bob. I can only assume that Bob might have come into the group she mixed with, which I can remember included Thelma Stone and Margret Keown (I am pretty sure her name was Margret).
During his time in Morawa, Bob was a farm hand out on Jack Agar’s farm south of Morawa. Butting up against Jack Agar’s farm was a farm owned by Fred Leg (maybe Legg) and Charlie McLean. From time to time Jack Agar would loan Bob out to McLean and Leg. On at least one occasion I can recall Bob taking Jean and me out to the McLean and Leg farm.
In the following picture we are both a bit older and I am guessing that this must be getting close to the time she moved to Perth with Bob.
In March of 1961 Bob and Jean got married.
The picture at right shows Jean at her wedding in her wedding dress (obviously) with my brother and I.
As I recall this is probably where I decided I liked the idea of photography. I followed the photographer around the whole time, picking up his spent flash bulbs.
Following is a picture of Jean and Bob from Xmas 2009 before Bob left us to return to star dust.
Although she played basketball back in her Morawa days and was into tennis later in her life, by and large Jean was not very comfortable with groups or at parties. She would grit her teeth and get through it, but it wasn’t a relaxing experience for her. She didn’t like ‘new’ things happening. She liked things to happen exactly like they had always happened. And she didn’t like surprises or noise—especially noisy neighbours (but I won’t name names).
I recall one time her daughter Kim and I dragged her down to Busselton with us. This was after Bob had passed and Kim did not want to leave her home. All the time we were there she wanted to know when we were going back home—back to safety. Even though I tried to impress upon her that we were on holidays, she did not relax, or approach any state anywhere near being relaxed or at ease, the whole time we were there. She certainly didn’t have fun. That I can state without any fear of being incorrect. In fact her daughter Kim has been known to suggest that, in the time she has known her as an adult, Jean has never ever really looked like she was having fun.
When Kim told her that it was time for us to pack the car and head back home Jean was in the car with her bag tucked under her arm waiting for us to finish packing and start heading for home. Back to safety. Back to a known environment.
Well … I certainly hope that at some time some where she had some fun while she was on this spinning rock we call Earth.
Jean is survived by her son and daughter Brett and Kim.
I wish I had known her more when she was younger and spent more time with her when she was older. But I guess that is something almost everybody mulls over in times such as these. That kind of thinking needs to be accompanied by a bottle or two of red wine.
Mind you … I did spend considerable time with her at one stage putting fishing rod and reel kits together for retail sale. But that is another story.
One last picture … Jean and Robert in fancy dress.
Barry.