Wie geht's?
Repositing this entry from July 28 2022 as dad passed away on September 21, 2009
This post is dedicated to Graham Purdy (26 July 1928 - 21 September 2009) because without Graham's world there would be no Wozza's world. Funny how time passes. It's been an unbelievable 43 years since John Lennon was murdered. It's been 40 years since my mother passed away. It's now been 14 years without dad and those moments remain raw wounds. Rather than settle into a depressed mood, though, I'd prefer to be upbeat. As Groucho Marx said,
"I, not events, have the power to make me happy or unhappy today. I can choose which it shall be. Yesterday is dead, tomorrow hasn't arrived yet. I have just one day, today, and I'm going to be happy in it."
So I'd rather commemorate Sept 21 with a celebration of a great life via some pictures of father and son(s) and grandad (or as he signed himself - Deedoo II) for our children. First though - some context:
This was Graham's world as four generations of Purdy are captured here by dad's clever organisation and automatic shutter release in the 1960s. Left to right - William Nugent Purdy (his grandfather), Graham Nugent Purdy himself, Christina Amelia Purdy (his mother), Warren Nugent Purdy (his first son), Harry Purdy [a.k.a. Deedoo] (his father), Dulcie Mary Purdy (his wife), Ross Graham Purdy (his second son). We are pictured on the steps at his parents' house in Reimers Ave, Auckland (a.k.a Rochdene).
GNP and WNP. We often stopped off for lunch in Hamilton Gardens (Purdys love routine - we were taught by a master), at a great spot by the Waikato River. Clearly we were well organised - picnic lunch with thermos of tea.
As a teenager I often attended family holidays to Te Rangiita (Taupo). This was taken on one of our last fishing trips together as a family. Pretty soon I would outgrow them and start some family routines of my own with Jacky.
Deedoo II and the gee-kids (L to R: Adam; Samantha; Jade; Keegan) in the nineties at Mickey D's in Auckland.
One of the last father/son photos I have. Thirty years apart - we were so very different, yet so very alike.
Dad loved the Marx brothers so here's a parting thought from Groucho:
The first thing which I can record concerning myself is, that I was born. These are wonderful words. This life, to which neither time nor eternity can bring diminution - this everlasting living soul, began. My mind loses itself in these depths.
Love and peace - WNP
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