He was captured there, the same as my Dad and taken to a prisoner of war camp in Germany. For many years, his life was at risk every day from being shot, disease and starvation. ...and worst still - boredom!
Go figure - life is amazing - I came to this tiny town off the main road and found someone like Morris, someone who had so much in common with my Dad, who somehow stayed alive through that terrible time, came back to family and a community who had no idea of what he had gone through and started a totally new life.
He told me a story about a mate of his, who could spend a whole day shovelling dirt into one wheelbarrow. You could get shot if they caught you doing nothing. This guy had it down to an art form where he spent the whole day looking like he was doing something, but nothing actually got done.... in the face of his life being at risk if they caught him! Morris reckoned it was harder work for him to do that than to actually do the work!
I knew him instantly. I had grown up with a man who had survived a POW camp. I knew about funny little ways and things that couldn't be questioned and emotions that flared unexpectedly. I knew about obsessive compulsive routines, spit polished shoes and endless stories about the war and the depression. I could even tell the kids at school who had ex servicemen as their father - there was much we kids all had in common that the others would never know about.
I had taken on caring and helping heal my Dad. I knew from an early age that listening was a healing force. That giving my complete attention to my Dad was therapy for him. This quest of healing my Dad led me to read and explore psychology at an early age. I was fascinated by dreams and Dad would always share his dreams from the night before. This was the early stages of what I now call my Calling or my Career.
So I absolutely recognised Morris when I met him - and we clicked!
Morris was funny. He was always looking at the quirky side of things, having people on.
Morris was also courageous with his emotions. He met his soul mate late in life and Francis became his love. I always admired the way both of them lustily enjoyed each other and sought out fun together! They were growing old disgracefully and loving it! ...and they were loving fearlessly in the face of it being able to be taken away any day! What courage!
He also loved cars. He knew them all and had private fantasies that he would share when you got him started. And all his cars all had stories too. I often saw him at Mohan's Garage or the local service station.
His last stroke really affected him. He moved to the hospital accommodation in our local retirement village.
I went round this year to see if he wanted to go to Anzac Day. He just wasn't up to it. I dropped in to Francis's place after the Dawn Parade and there they were, happily having brunch, doing their thing. That was the last time I saw you Morris - and it was a real nice time with you and Francis.
I have heard Maori say that you can bury your problems and negativity with someone who has passed on.
Today I am burying my cowardice that stops me being who I really am. I am burying my disappointments and my failures, so they won't ever stop me again. I am burying my despair and my fears, so that I might live.
Take them with you to God for me Morris - you have been a friend to me and I will miss you.
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