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Don Graham VK6HK 1933-2012 (3)
This is the longer version of Dad's story from which a shorter eulogy was derived and read by my sister Judith at the funeral. For the curious (and this one time only), Judith is London-Based Sister, and she flew back today.
It's possible that there may be some errors in dates--I've found and corrected one but not otherwise cross-checked all content--because this was not the version poured over at length before the ceremony. But I thought it better to include this version and some of the details we just didn't have the time for. If you ever have to plan for or speak at a funeral, you should be prepared for time pressure.
--
Donald Ernest Graham
Dad was born in Perth on 10 March 1933, the only child of Ted and Phyllis Graham.
He grew up in Edinboro Street, Mt Hawthorn with both grandmothers also nearby. When his father came back from the war, he found a lanky 12 year old in place of the six-year-old boy he'd last seen. After primary school, Dad won entrance to Perth Modern, passing his Leaving Certificate in 1950.
Dad's early fascination with ham radio from age 13, endured his whole life long: alongside the corresponding need to have a bigger and bigger shack to house all his tools and the extraordinary equipment he built from scratch. His oldest friends, including Walter Howse, date from these early days. His mother used to tell the tale of wanting to shoo him into bed, only to have him reply 'But I'm talking to the world!' There are probably people in various parts of the globe who still know him better as VK6HK than Don Graham.
He gained his Amateur Operator's Licence from the Wireless Institute [of Australia] in 1951, succeeding to full membership in 1965, and was a valued and active member for over 60 years, as well as a Life Member of the WA VHF Group and ultimately also a Senior Member of the Institute of Radio and Electronic Engineers.
Following National Service as a Wireless Maintenance Mechanic, his first job was at the Department of Civil Aviation (DCA) - a carefree time he once said, with a bit of money in his pocket and the freedom to get out and about.
It was through a fellow ham, Sid Smith, that he met the lovely young Patricia Dooley on 12th October 1953: a courtship which blossomed into marriage in November 1957.
That first Christmas, his gift to the bride was a pair of kitchen scales - Mum was not amused. After that he gave her romantic presents every year until she was forced to beg for something more practical!
They bought a quarter acre of limestone scrub, with the nearest road over a mile away. The location at the top of the hill in what became Purdom Road, was clearly a promising spot for a radio tower, which doubtless was the deciding factor. Their house was built by 1959, when the young couple and their new little baby David moved in. Apart from a short sojourn in Melbourne in the late 1960s, it was to be their lifelong home, with many extensions as the family grew.
In 1960 he decided to further his education by starting a communications engineering degree at [WAIT as it was then] the Western Australian Institute of Technology. By then juggling full time work at the PMG's Department, and a young family, alongside his studies, it must have taken a lot of determination - and he successfully graduated in 1967.
Meanwhile, son David was joined by Carolyn in 1961, Rosemary in 1962, Judith in 1964 and Stephanie in 1970.
The rustling backdrop at home was CQ CQ VK6HK, 73s and 88s, Skeds, Jamboree of the Air, Oscar satellites, the VHF group Christmas parties, and the big day in 1972 when the new radio tower was installed and we all wrote our names in the concrete at the base.
He had a real talent with young children. He could reduce us all in seconds to delighted screams simply by pointing at a square on the gingham tablecloth and announcing it was 'the destructor button' and seemingly going to press it, or by pretending that his hand was a spider. His dry sense of humour was not wasted on adults either. (and as we children grew older, it was one of the great ways to connect with him).
He joined the Australian Broadcasting Control Board in 1970 as the Assistant State Broadcasting Engineer, working on technical regulation and site planning. For us as young children, this meant that he came home sometimes in a Z-plated white station wagon packed with strange equipment, which we all called 'the Queen's car', and which was the precursor to his trips away to all corners of Western Australia, measuring radio and television signals and no doubt producing reams of reports for Canberra. He didn't take up the very senior management roles he was frequently offered, as this would have required a permanent move to the Eastern States. That was never on the cards.
As his children turned into teenagers one by one, there were a few less than harmonious moments. When a boy showed up late to collect Carolyn for her first ever date, Dad's mighty eyebrows bristled alarmingly. But he and Mum stuck to the principle of allowing us all to make our own mistakes, (which some of us immediately did, of course) and then always being there for us regardless. Together they gave us a stable and enduring home, which is a great gift. Because of him, we all simply take for granted that minds are enquiring, that achievements are not trumpeted, and that family loyalty is unconditional. And that the best prawns come from WA.
On his retirement at the age of 56 in 1989, he had been the WA State Broadcasting Engineer for the Department of Transport and Communications for many years. He took to retirement very happily indeed, taking the opportunity to focus more of his time in his beloved shack and even lashing out to get his first pair of denim jeans! The retirement years were rich and happy times. He continued experiments in amateur radio and television, and embraced the various wonders of emerging digital technologies with gusto. His and Mum's relaxed trips to Margaret River in the wintertime became a regular feature. With every wedding anniversary, 54 at the last count, the number of leisurely lunches they shared in local wineries grew and grew. The arrival of Rosie's daughters: Shannon in 1992, Claire in 1995 and little Erin in 2002 completed the picture and made him a happy grandfather, a role he relished.
For Dad, his home was his castle and his wish to spend his final days there was granted. He passed away peacefully, surrounded by family.
He was a very fine man indeed.
So. It seems pretty clear that the first thing he will have done on now reaching his final destination, will have been to check the radio signal there and start looking for a shack.
88s, Dad.
It's possible that there may be some errors in dates--I've found and corrected one but not otherwise cross-checked all content--because this was not the version poured over at length before the ceremony. But I thought it better to include this version and some of the details we just didn't have the time for. If you ever have to plan for or speak at a funeral, you should be prepared for time pressure.
--
Donald Ernest Graham
Dad was born in Perth on 10 March 1933, the only child of Ted and Phyllis Graham.
He grew up in Edinboro Street, Mt Hawthorn with both grandmothers also nearby. When his father came back from the war, he found a lanky 12 year old in place of the six-year-old boy he'd last seen. After primary school, Dad won entrance to Perth Modern, passing his Leaving Certificate in 1950.
Dad's early fascination with ham radio from age 13, endured his whole life long: alongside the corresponding need to have a bigger and bigger shack to house all his tools and the extraordinary equipment he built from scratch. His oldest friends, including Walter Howse, date from these early days. His mother used to tell the tale of wanting to shoo him into bed, only to have him reply 'But I'm talking to the world!' There are probably people in various parts of the globe who still know him better as VK6HK than Don Graham.
He gained his Amateur Operator's Licence from the Wireless Institute [of Australia] in 1951, succeeding to full membership in 1965, and was a valued and active member for over 60 years, as well as a Life Member of the WA VHF Group and ultimately also a Senior Member of the Institute of Radio and Electronic Engineers.
Following National Service as a Wireless Maintenance Mechanic, his first job was at the Department of Civil Aviation (DCA) - a carefree time he once said, with a bit of money in his pocket and the freedom to get out and about.
It was through a fellow ham, Sid Smith, that he met the lovely young Patricia Dooley on 12th October 1953: a courtship which blossomed into marriage in November 1957.
That first Christmas, his gift to the bride was a pair of kitchen scales - Mum was not amused. After that he gave her romantic presents every year until she was forced to beg for something more practical!
They bought a quarter acre of limestone scrub, with the nearest road over a mile away. The location at the top of the hill in what became Purdom Road, was clearly a promising spot for a radio tower, which doubtless was the deciding factor. Their house was built by 1959, when the young couple and their new little baby David moved in. Apart from a short sojourn in Melbourne in the late 1960s, it was to be their lifelong home, with many extensions as the family grew.
In 1960 he decided to further his education by starting a communications engineering degree at [WAIT as it was then] the Western Australian Institute of Technology. By then juggling full time work at the PMG's Department, and a young family, alongside his studies, it must have taken a lot of determination - and he successfully graduated in 1967.
Meanwhile, son David was joined by Carolyn in 1961, Rosemary in 1962, Judith in 1964 and Stephanie in 1970.
The rustling backdrop at home was CQ CQ VK6HK, 73s and 88s, Skeds, Jamboree of the Air, Oscar satellites, the VHF group Christmas parties, and the big day in 1972 when the new radio tower was installed and we all wrote our names in the concrete at the base.
He had a real talent with young children. He could reduce us all in seconds to delighted screams simply by pointing at a square on the gingham tablecloth and announcing it was 'the destructor button' and seemingly going to press it, or by pretending that his hand was a spider. His dry sense of humour was not wasted on adults either. (and as we children grew older, it was one of the great ways to connect with him).
He joined the Australian Broadcasting Control Board in 1970 as the Assistant State Broadcasting Engineer, working on technical regulation and site planning. For us as young children, this meant that he came home sometimes in a Z-plated white station wagon packed with strange equipment, which we all called 'the Queen's car', and which was the precursor to his trips away to all corners of Western Australia, measuring radio and television signals and no doubt producing reams of reports for Canberra. He didn't take up the very senior management roles he was frequently offered, as this would have required a permanent move to the Eastern States. That was never on the cards.
As his children turned into teenagers one by one, there were a few less than harmonious moments. When a boy showed up late to collect Carolyn for her first ever date, Dad's mighty eyebrows bristled alarmingly. But he and Mum stuck to the principle of allowing us all to make our own mistakes, (which some of us immediately did, of course) and then always being there for us regardless. Together they gave us a stable and enduring home, which is a great gift. Because of him, we all simply take for granted that minds are enquiring, that achievements are not trumpeted, and that family loyalty is unconditional. And that the best prawns come from WA.
On his retirement at the age of 56 in 1989, he had been the WA State Broadcasting Engineer for the Department of Transport and Communications for many years. He took to retirement very happily indeed, taking the opportunity to focus more of his time in his beloved shack and even lashing out to get his first pair of denim jeans! The retirement years were rich and happy times. He continued experiments in amateur radio and television, and embraced the various wonders of emerging digital technologies with gusto. His and Mum's relaxed trips to Margaret River in the wintertime became a regular feature. With every wedding anniversary, 54 at the last count, the number of leisurely lunches they shared in local wineries grew and grew. The arrival of Rosie's daughters: Shannon in 1992, Claire in 1995 and little Erin in 2002 completed the picture and made him a happy grandfather, a role he relished.
For Dad, his home was his castle and his wish to spend his final days there was granted. He passed away peacefully, surrounded by family.
He was a very fine man indeed.
So. It seems pretty clear that the first thing he will have done on now reaching his final destination, will have been to check the radio signal there and start looking for a shack.
88s, Dad.
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