Neva had once - once - paddled daughter Anna's bottom with a wooden spoon, already cracked and barely holding together. The spoon parted company with the handle, although the blow was surely not especially lusty, Neva saying Anna had dined out for years on stories of how her mother had beaten her with various kitchen implements until they broke.
Her children undoubtedly inherited a great deal from their mother, not least her wit and extraordinary sense of humour, and one imagines they are passing those qualities on to their own children and grandchildren. He son describes her as creative, convivial and well-organised; she was all those, and much more besides. She was alive, very much in charge of her own destiny, and if she ever lacked patience it was only with people who allowed themselves to be defeated by adversity.
Neva and adversity were old acquaintances, but she was never worsted by it. She delighted in her blessings, and could not understand those who did not. She taught her children by example, and will be remembered with abiding affection by those who knew and admired her, and marvelled at her energy and indefatigable enthusiasm.
The extraordinarily powerful force for good that family can be was demonstrated again on Saturday when Myra Ujdur celebrated her 80th birthday at her and husband George's home at Kauri Flat, north of Awanui. Children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren were there, along with friends (including George's best man of 60 years ago next year, Lionel Henderson), all working hard to maintain the singular hospitality for which the family is renowned.
The expressions of affection were spontaneous and eloquent, the principles by which George and Myra have lived their lives and raised their children clearly having filtered down to succeeding generations.
It is no longer fashionable to say so, perhaps, but family is the greatest treasure any person can possess. These days the nuclear family has lost its central place in society, as we are increasingly encouraged to pursue individual aims and aspirations, to scratch whatever itches us as adults and to shun the responsibility that every parent has to the children they bring into the world. That philosophy has cost us dearly, as a community and as a country, and those who are blessed with the friendship of the likes of Neva Clarke-McKenna and George and Myra Ujdur will understand that.
Parenthood and the role of leading a family demand sacrifice and steadfast adherence to principles that underpin true success and happiness. It is failure to accept that responsibility, to make sacrifices, to put the best interests of children first and foremost (as opposed to indulging them), and to remain true to what were once commonly accepted principles that has provided the seed of many of the social ills we struggle with today.
It is doubtful that the children who grew up in the Clarke and Ujdur households enjoyed the rights that children demand, or more properly perhaps have demanded on their behalf, in the 21st century.
The late Keith Parker, who returned to the Far North after a career in banking in Australia to reinvent himself as a published historian, once told the writer that the children of his generation were to a degree oppressed. Certainly they were expected to be seen and not heard, to speak when they were spoken to, and in the writer's experience not encouraged to express too many opinions until they were of an age to have some means of forming an opinion worth listening too, but 'oppressed' might be a bit strong.
Even if they did lack the freedoms enjoyed by many children these days, and they did, that was no bad thing though. They grew up knowing they were loved, knowing that they were expected to accept an increasing level of responsibility within the family as they grew older, and in many cases learned lessons of inestimable value by the example of their parents. Lessons such as the non-negotiable status of honesty, the commitment demanded of a promise made with a handshake, and the priceless value of a family's good name.
Those were days when few could afford more than the necessities of life, and children's wish lists were written more in hope than expectation. Material prosperity has perhaps not been good for family values.
That many young New Zealanders are growing up now in a very different environment goes a long way to explaining what would once have been regarded as inexplicable behaviour, and truth be told remains inexplicable to many. It is difficult to imagine the children and grandchildren of parents of the old-fashioned kind rioting at a New Year's Eve celebration, deliberately setting out to damage property and physically harm total strangers as some form of amusement. It is difficult to imagine such children ruining the summer holidays of others by exercising their right to indulge in raucous and dangerous behaviour, stealing from and hurting others simply because they can, or nurturing often unfounded grievances.
A Cherokee legend tells of an old man telling his grandson that a terrible battle is waged within each of us. It is a fight to the death between two wolves, one of which is evil. He is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority and ego. The other is good. He is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.
Asked by the grandson which wolf will win, he replies, 'The one you feed.'
Neva Clarke-McKenna, George and Myra Ujdur, showed their children how to feed the good wolves. It is not too late perhaps for others to give their children the same priceless gift.
