Robert Wright, et al - 1955

My brother, Robert Wright, was born in 1937, meaning he was 12 at the time of my birth in 1949. 

Whilst recently going through some old family photos in the collection of my late mother, I came across the above photo of Robert, et al. He is in the middle row, third from the left (click on the image to enlarge it). I can see so much of our dear mother’s sweet face in this youthful photo of my handsome big brother. 

I already knew he played competitive rugby league in the 1950s, with Sydney’s celebrated Manly-Warringah team, so seeing him pictured in such a photo as this came as no surprise. I did not, however, know the story behind this particular photo, nor what the caption “Twelve N S Trg Bn” meant. So I googled it and discovered “The Mighty 12^th”. Or to give it its correct title, “The Twelfth National Service Training Battalion”. I had not previously known that Robert had been conscripted. 

Through subsequent online research, I have since discovered that at that time in Australia, young men were conscripted into the Armed Forces at the age of 18, which was in 1955 in Robert’s case. That would have probably been when he first left home, which explains why I have little remembrance of him, as I was only 5 at the time. He moved away permanently soon afterwards and distanced himself from the family for the remainder of his life. I don’t know why, but I have my suspicions. He never married. He died of a cerebral haemorrhage at the age of 45 in 1982 and his remains are interred at Palmdale Lawn Cemetery and Memorial Park at Palmdale on the Central Coast of New South Wales.

To give you an idea of the difference in our ages - When the above photo of Robert was taken in 1955, I was in kindergarten at Narrabeen Infants’ School and would celebrate my 6^th birthday in the November of that year: 

Colourised:

Kerry Wright, et al - 1955

In 1955, when I was 5, I began my schooling at Narrabeen Infants' School, located in Ocean Street, Narrabeen, at the corner of King Street, not far from my childhood home in nearby Mactier Street. Here I am in the 1955 kindergarten class of post-WWII Baby Boomers. That's me, Kerry Wright, in the third row from the front, fifth from the left. I spent three years at Narrabeen Infants' School from 1955-1957. It was only a short walk from home and Mum would walk me across busy Pittwater Road each morning, to see me safely on my way. 

All the teachers were female and generally caring for the most part, albeit in a somewhat strict authoritarian way, in accordance with the teaching methods of the day. The school was in an absolutely stunning location, with its main entrance directly opposite the ocean. The school grounds were generously planted with grand old statuesque pine trees, one of which can be seen in the above photo. 

I vividly remember two incidents from my time at Narrabeen Infants', one good and the other not so good. First the good. All the children were assembled one day to hear a visitor speak about classical music. Among other pieces, she played a recording of Claude Debussy's beautiful "Claire de Lune" on the gramophone. It left an indelible impression upon me, starting a life-long love and appreciation of classical music that continues to this very day. 

And the not so good? You will remember that I mentioned how strict the teachers were. It was the teaching style of the day. Children were expected to sit still and not speak. Well, on this one particular occasion, I remember I needed to wee-wee very urgently. My dilemma was that I was too shy and nervous to raise my hand and bring the attention of the entire class to me, not to mention the possible wrath of the teacher. So I sat tight, hoping I would be able to make it through to the next break. Alas, that was not to be. With startling clarity, I can still recall looking down into my lap and seeing a triangular shaped yellow puddle, contained by my trembling little legs in their grey serge school-shorts. Not exactly a propitious beginning to my academic career.