My Dad – Neil Bool

At roughly 10pm on Monday the 12th of October I had a call to say my Dad had passed away. He hadn’t been well, but this was very unexpected – had taken a bad turn earlier in the day and it had all unfolded quickly. We headed straight to Goulburn and then back to Sydney. The Funeral was today (Monday) at 11am. He was a beautiful, gentle, kind man. I miss him already. This is his Eulogy.

 

A Tribute to My Dad 

Dad was born Neil McInness Bool, on the 18^th of March 1944. Born in Goulburn to Sylvia and Colin, he was the youngest of four brothers.

Dad’s father, Colin, worked on the railway, but unfortunately Colin passed away when Dad was only six years old leaving Sylvia to raise the 4 boys on her own while working as a nurse at the Goulburn base hospital.

Dad attended Goulburn High school before leaving to join the PMG at 15 years of age. By all accounts he did well at school – but I have no doubt there was a bit of mischief too. He was certainly a very clever man, extremely sharp with numbers; and this never changed. He did the crosswords in the paper every day – all of them including the cryptic, except for the easy quick one (which is the only one I can do) unless he was bored. He also loved doing his Sudoku’s. He did books and books of them and was still doing them in his final days. When you look at them you see that he only did the hard ones, so all the easy ones are left blank, although he did say to me a couple of weeks ago that the Einstein ones were a bit of a challenge J

Mum and Dad were married on the 21^st of November 1964 – it would have been 50 years this year. I followed on closely (but not too close!:-)) in October 1965. We lived in a rental house in Belmore St until about 1969 when we moved in with Nan while our house was being built in Gerathy St, which ultimately became the family home. Rowena came along in July 1972 and she now lives with Damien and her family in the same home.

Dad had a long career with the PMG, working as a senior Technical Officer. He worked during the time when making telephone calls was being automated – for those who can remember, it involved replacing switch board operators with automated exchanges – ironically mum was one of the operators he put out of work.

The exchanges were regional so dad had to do a lot of travel and often worked away all week. He travelled all over NSW, and particularly the southern coast and mountains. I used to love hearing about the towns he had been to, and on school holidays would often go away with him. He got to know a lot of the locals in these towns, and would always be bringing something home. One time in particular he had been down Bermagui way and I remember him arriving with a hessian potato bag full of un-shucked oysters. Now mum and dad both loved their oysters, but weren’t really known for their shucking skills, so there were a lot of bleeding fingers in the house that night.

Dad worked with the PMG (Telecom/Telstra) for 33 years all up before taking a redundancy. He travelled for a bit with Mum before working as a Taxi driver until he retired at 65.

Dad’s greatest passion was sport. He was a very good sportsman himself – pretty much in any sport, but especially his cricket.

He played cricket at state and senior grade level for many years, while doing this he also coached junior cricket, and was a director of the Tulley Park club.

Dad bowled and batted, but was best known for his batting; much to mum’s frustration. Having only the one car we would often head off on a Saturday afternoon to pick up Dad, and as we would arrive mum would groan; I’d ask what the matter was and she’d reply “he’s still bloody in”!

Dad also played Basketball, Hockey and Rugby league at a senior level. He was a very good second rower and went to Sydney to play league for souths juniors in 1960, and played for Workers in the 1^st grade grand final a few years later. Mum put an end to his rugby league days after he was spear tackled and hospitalised with amnesia for 3 very scary days.

Even after dad retired from his playing days he continued to remain active with the club and coaching, and was also active, walking every day into town.

Dad loved to watch his sport – on TV and live. Every year we would head to Sydney as a family to watch the Sydney cricket test – all 5 days. First from the Bradman Stand, and in later years the Brewongle.  He loved his Rabbitoh’s and would also head up to Sydney see them play and also the occasional game in Canberra. There were a lot of lean years there so it was great that he was here to see them win the Grand Final last year.

He also loved just talking about sport. We would always talk about the league, cricket, or pretty much anything. When I started to follow the Rugby he would give me a bit of stick, but eventually came round and would always know the results when I called. In the later years he would say to me how for him it was a way of escaping a lot of the other troubles in the world.

Apart from his sport, Dad also enjoyed his fishing. I have many fond memories of holidays away on Wyangla and Burrenjuck Dams fishing for Catfish, Silver Perch, and Yellow Bellies. We would dig up our own worms from the chook yard and head off for a week.  While dad was a good fisherman, he wasn’t great with motors, particularly boat motors. We would often hire a tinny to go out fishing on the dam, and I don’t think we ever got one started without flooding it first, but this didn’t stop him heading to the farthest place away as he could get to catch a fish. One particular time he took the whole family including Nanna to a nice remote spot for a picnic and fish. When it came time to go the motor wouldn’t start. We waited a bit, still wouldn’t start, tried again, it wasn’t going to start.!!! We then spent the next hour rowing back across the dam until a boat noticed us and towed us back; he wasn’t too popular that night.

Most of all Dad just liked to spend time with his family, particularly the kids – firstly Rowena and I, and then his grandchildren. He treasured them. He was most content when he was sitting on his front porch, drinking his tooheys (or KB before they changed it), with us sitting beside him, just chatting and watching the world go by. He would wave to the neighbours with a smile as they walked passed, often they would come over to have a chat. When I last spoke with him he had just been down at Gerathy St and was telling me how much he loved being around his grandchildren.

He spent the last 4-5 years as mum’s carer. He loved mum and would do anything for her. He was friendly and kind to everyone, and truly never said a bad word about anyone. He never complained, and even in his final days he would say to me “Oh well, it’s just nature mate, isn’t it”. He was just a beautiful man and will be forever missed.

 

His charming ways and smiling face;

Are a pleasure to recall;

He had a kindly word for each;

And died beloved by all.

You’re not forgotten Poppy;

Nor ever shall you be;

As long as life and memory last;

We shall remember thee.

 

Gone is the face we loved so dear;

Silent is the voice we loved to hear;

Too far away for sight or speech;

But not too far for thought to reach;

Sweet to remember him who once was here;

And who though absent, is just as dear.

His charming ways and smiling face;

Are a pleasure to recall;

He had a kindly word for each;

And died beloved by all.