These were my notes for the eulogy at my father’s funeral.
I didn’t know Barry for the early part of his life. In fact I first met him in hospital in 1962.
Born and bred in Sydney. I’m told he was a draftsman for Wormald Brothers, designing fire sprinkler systems.
But at 35, having had enough of the rat race, he read a couple of books about cows and bought a dairy farm. So we all moved to Berry, which is where Janet and I went through primary school.
Joined by brother Keith, his wife Joyce, and two grandmothers.
In 1974 we moved to a larger farm in Denman.
Later on, when running the farm was less lucrative and more physically difficult, Dad worked a few kilometres down the road from the farm, at 222 Supply Company at Myambat. I’ll never forget the time he drove our tractor to work, hoping the guys in the army workshop would weld some broken part for him. They did that quite easily, but when dad brought the tractor home, we were all rather surprised that they’d also completely painted it army-green for a joke!
After us kids had left home and he retired, mum and dad moved to Hawks Nest and as you know later moved to Wagga.
But enough about where we lived. I guess that was never as important to dad as how he lived.
Mum and dad were both very involved with the scout and guide movement in Berry. Dad was Scout master for a while.
They have both always been active in the church wherever they lived. Dad was a Lay Preacher in the Anglican church and I remember watching him in proper liturgical dress leading services at Denman. I even recall one of his sermons. He pointed out that the Bible mentions only two “good men”. Well, my memory says there were two, but I looked it up a few days ago and found three. I won’t spoil the story: you can look it up for homework.
I guess a lot of dad rubbed off on me. His love of camping and bush walking. His commitment to service within the local church. Photography. Puzzle solving.
I certainly would not have attempted renovations on my house if it wasn’t for learning how to use tools from him, and watching his approach to building houses at Denman and Hawks Nest. His more detailed achievements in carpentry – from coffee tables with inlaid chess board to a 3m boat – leave me far behind.
Dad was also an inventor, who enjoyed figuring things out for himself. He made do with what he had and, like most farmers, he believed that if it can’t be fixed with bailing twine then it can’t be fixed. I recall a box he built for storing camping equipment, that transformed into a camp table. On the other hand, we can all be glad that nobody took up his great idea of marketing carbonated flavoured milk.
Dad left a mark on many people’s lives, including mine, and bore witness to our marvellous God. Barry Clarke was also a good man.