Uncle John is turning 70

I'm not sure how many nephews will be writing in this rather impressive folio, but here goes nothing – well I hope not nothing – but I do hope that my little something brings back a few old memories of a life in the Forest so many years ago.

Congratulations on reaching biblical maturity. The Bible says in Proverbs 16:31 that "Gray hair is a crown of splendour; it is attained by a righteous life" … I rather suspect this to be largely true of you.

I always felt a great affinity with the Brew Crew while growing up. Angophora Crescent was a bit like a second home. We used to ride our bikes around to visit your home on weekends and during school holidays. I developed friendships with all your children, but most notably with Stephen and Robert at different times. I remember that we could hear Robert from two streets away when he rode his bike to our place. He would come hurtling down Rabbett Street making the sound of a car horn.

You may recall that I have always had a bit of a fascination with words in general, but also with public speaking. You have always seemed to me to be such a 'natural' in this role – often speaking without notes. I remember popping around to your home in Forestville while you were in the middle of a media training course for your role at State Transit. You were explaining how you were trained not to answer specific questions. This was an amazing concept to me at the time; but to this day I still think of you when I watch those frustrating political interviews. Our politicians seem to be the masters of this curious craft.

Fireworks nights at the Brew's house were always a highlight of our annual calendar. This was despite Robert (?) almost taking Grandma's eye out with a 'ball shooter'! I remember being so disappointed when the government of the day decided that we were no longer mature enough to enjoy fireworks responsibly. Looking back, I suspect that my own children's antics with burning sticks and campfires are probably pretty mild compared to what we got up to on firecracker nights in the seventies.

I remember a camping trip to Hill End that you and my Mum organised with us cousins. I can't remember why my own Dad was busy for that weekend, but I recall having a great time. Poor Robert was very anxious about camping; I think it may have been one of his first times away like that. Not sure if it was this trip, but I remember that he desperately needed to go to the toilet during the night, but was afraid to stray too far from the tent. The next morning we found a mysterious brown pile in close proximity to the rear of the tent.

I wasn't there to witness it, but I have it on good authority that during a meal at your place you were 'playing footsies' with Auntie Sylvia under the table. At some point during the course of the 'footsies' session, Auntie Syl got up from the table; in that moment you realised that the legs you were interacting with belonged to someone else. Apparently there was an awkward silence, and the matter was never raised again!!!

Sunday was the day you tried to find some rest in the midst of your busy schedule. We would often pop around after church to find you listening to classical and other styles of music on your big wooden record player. Some days I would watch you paint. I can still hear your tenor voice in my head, particularly during the old hymns we sang at church; from memory you sat in the row behind us.

You were always a very practical man – no wonder you found such an affinity with engineering. I could never quite work out what kept you and Dad friends for so many years. It wasn't just the family ties and the shared history. And I don't think it was the innumerable church meetings you both attended together either. I hope you will forgive the observation, but I wonder if Dad saw something he admired in your practicality; that he knew he would never attain to –- and I wonder if you saw something of Dad's ability with people and relationships that never seemed to come as naturally for you. Whatever the case, it is clear to me that you have both placed considerable value on your friendship over the years.

I remember watching you help Dad with a retaining wall project (the wall still stands to this day) at our home in French's Forest. We used concrete core samples; I think obtained somehow via your connections with State Rail. It was a real treat to ride in the mighty Chrysler Valiant. I think Stephen used to refer to it as 'The Val'. I remember observing your veiled frustration, but seeing that you were also trying so hard to be patient with Dad, as you helped him (he helped you?) begin to build the wall.

I recall that I asked you to make a speech when Belinda and I were married. I think you and Auntie Sylvia also share a wedding anniversary on the 20^th of January? I can't remember the detail of your speech that day, but the key message was that I should seek to 'woo' Belinda every day of our married life.

It was good advice that I have sought hard to follow.

Thank you.

You have run a good race Uncle John. You are set to finish strong! May the next twelve months find you even stronger in your faith, hope and love of God.

With much love, Wes Dart

To him who is able to keep you from falling and to present you

before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy—

to the only God our Saviour be glory, majesty, power and authority,

through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages,

now and forevermore! Amen.

Jude 1: 24-25