I’d like to tell you my great uncle’s story, because he wouldn’t tell you himself. I heard it for the first time today, and I was intrigued by the sad, and often strange things that have happened in his life.
He was born in 1921 and grew up in St. Kilda and Caulfield. I don’t know most of the details of his early life except that he was part of a large family and one of his brothers died as a child.
He eventually married a woman who, after some time, began to show signs of serious mental illness. She would often threaten to commit suicide, or to leave him and fight for custody of the children. Once she took the lid off the pressure cooker while it was still boiling, spraying the scalding steam all over the kitchen.
Eventually she left, and because he cared for her still, he bought her a beach house to live in. That was until one day when their son discovered she had overdosed on medication in her bathroom, and she was gone.
My great uncle bought a house that had a factory attached to it. There he worked hard on an invention – a ground-breaking invention for that time. Yet he kept it so secret that I probably should not tell you what it was. My mother recalls that it was so revolutionary that he would have made a fortune if he had gotten it patented, but he never did. For some reason, even though everybody pleaded with him, it was to remain a secret, and is to this day.
Now a sprightly 86 years old, he can be seen riding around the city on a bicycle, or driving the same old car he has always driven. He follows a strict
Pritikin diet, and vows he is as healthy as ever. He still lives in the same old house with the factory, and makes special parts he invented for shipping containers.
My great uncle would never tell you his story; He’d just say “oh, I’m not important,” or “no-one would be interested in what I’ve done”. I do wish the world could have benefited from his invention, or at least, his story, since the details I have are patchy at best.
