In July 1963, when the Kaimai air disaster occurred, I was in my first year at Hamilton Boys’ High School.
My mother worked in Waikato Hospital’s laboratory.
We didn’t yet have a black and white television and heard the news of the missing DC3 over the kitchen radio that afternoon.
The next day searchers found the wreckage and began the grim task of body recovery.
I remember the day after, Mum and Dad arrived home in their blue and white Mark 1 Consul, both looking very sombre.