My bit from my dear Dad’s funeral, giving the overview of his life.
Owen was not one to jump into the spotlight and tell his own story. He didn’t like to blow his own trumpet, in both metaphorical and literal contrast to his grandfather Hilmer, a charismatic brass band leader and renowned trombone player. Owen took after his father, Hilmer’s son, Rod, a devoted family man who was most comfortable slightly back and to the side from the limelight.
Owen was a proud Mainlander. He was born in Dunedin to Mina and Rod. Apart from a brief stint where they moved to Gore, he grew up in Dunedin, spending many weekends and holidays at the family crib at Doctors Point.
As a late addition much younger than siblings Rod and Margaret, he spent a lot of time with his mother, going on shopping trips and having a sneaky ice cream at the milk bar. He missed most of his first year at school due to catching measles, then chicken pox, then mumps, and then topping that off by breaking his arm.
He and his schoolfriends filled their weekends with Westerns at the cinema, spectating at rugby matches, building forts in the bush and raiding a neighbour’s trees for apples (this last is notable as one of the very few acts of rebellion you’ll find in my dad’s long life). One of his fellow raiders, John Matthews, remained lifetime friends, including standing up as Owen’s best man at his wedding. Saturday nights were often spent at home, listening to opera or brass band records with his parents and grandparents.
He studied history at Otago, earning a Masters, and throughout his life there would be history books mixed in with the cricket books in his reading pile. During his studies he was also working in what he called his dream job, ushering at Dunedin Town Hall, which gave him the chance to see the Rolling Stones, Peter Paul and Mary, Louis Armstrong, Roy Orbison, Dusty Springfield, Ray Charles, Herman’s Hermits, and his beloved Beatles.
On graduating he came to Wellington for the career opportunities, meeting here another friend who has remained a fixture, Tim Lovell Smith. They set up a flat in 1970, and Owen trained as an archivist, a good match for his interest in research and his meticulous approach. He went around the Pacific checking and setting up Government archives in the Cook Islands, Samoa and Niue.
His career in the civil service led eventually to the Department of Internal Affairs, where he worked in many areas, most of which were incomprehensible to me as a child and largely remain so now I’m an adult. But I do know he was both highly respected and warmly regarded across DIA, and there was a large turnout to his retirement party in 2009.
So his move to Wellington worked out brilliantly for his career but also in another crucial way: that same year he moved to Wellington, 1970, he met Anne Geddes in the Royal Tavern on Lambton Quay. By the end of ‘71 they were married and settled in the Hutt, and Owen’s long years of catching the train in and out began.
He became very close to Anne’s family here, her sister Margaret and her parents Percy and Felice. And soon the four of us started to appear on the scene.
Owen decided he did not want to be separated from his growing family in any way and was baptised. He went on to be very committed to the parish here, serving in a variety of roles, as well as being involved in all our school committees. Perhaps unsurprisingly, when he took up pétanque after retirement, the club spotted those same special attributes and he became club secretary, a position he held for many years. He was even awarded administrator of the year, something he never told me; I only found out when mum included it in her notes for this eulogy. Still learning new things!
What I do know about my Dad, apart from his reticence in telling me he won administrator of the year, is his fundamental kindness. His concern for others. His determination to make sure the windows were all closed and the doors were all locked before he went out somewhere, no matter how much my mother was revving the car engine to hurry him up. And his gentleness.
I hope I can be as gentle, and caring, and kind. Though maybe a bit quicker to leave the house.