Page 1070 - Week 04 - Tuesday, 2 May 2006
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compassionately with whatever real and unique human drama is on the other end of the line.
In my life for the past six years Pat was that person, not just listening but ensuring follow through, reminding me daily that the only plausible reason for wanting to be in public life is that it creates an opportunity to have an impact on private lives, to make a difference, remedy a wrong and to share a burden. In my office, in the eyes of those who walked through my door or dialled my number, Pat was expected to be conversant with every news report in every medium. She was expected to be familiar with every piece of correspondence ever received, every nuance of every issue. No individual could be these things, but Pat came close, aided by a passion for record keeping that, at times, could be characterised as a fetish.
In opposition, then later in government, Pat was the membrane between me and the world, the one who absorbed many of the shocks intended for me, the one who averted many a crisis before it reached its potential. She listened; she truly listened. She cared. Even when, just occasionally, a tirade reached under her guard, she was respectful and professional. Sometimes she would ask politely if she could put a caller on hold; then she would take a deep breath or two, no doubt imagining that she was dragging on one of her beloved cigarettes, before returning to the call. And she performed the same essential, sanity-preserving role in the lives of every adviser who worked in my office, reducing the pressure not just on me but shielding, filtering and softening the working week for all of her colleagues. Her loyalty to the government, to Labor and to me personally was boundless.
Pat’s funeral last Friday was a reminder that each of us lives multiple lives, lives that intersect in places but that are distinct, unique, worth celebrating and worth sharing. Pat Ticehurst lived many rich lives. To her parents, her brothers and sisters and those who knew her longest, she was Patsy Lawrence of Birregurra, captain of the Colac high school hockey team, too young for teachers college when she matriculated—not that that small consideration stopped her.
She might have been too young to train as a teacher but she simply became a teacher anyway, setting a generation of Birregurra infants and children on their educational journey until she herself was old enough to get the piece of paper that proved she could do it. Then she embarked properly on her teaching career at Manangatang in the Mallee. It was a career that would take her around the country, before bringing her here to the ACT. That was one Pat.
For Noel, the dashing serviceman, Pat was the woman who would become the steadfast love of a lifetime. For Kim and Lisa, she was a mother. For Carl, Rhys, Sandra, Chantelle, Stuart, Alana and Kristen, she was a grandmother.
From among the members of the Labor Party, of which she was a passionate and active member for many decades, tales of a different Pat emerge—the unstoppable fundraiser, the board member of the Labor Club, the long-time executive member of the Ginninderra sub-branch and delegate at many an ALP conference. For Pat, the party was more than a once-a-month sub-branch meeting.
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