Epitaph For Elana

I stood by the grave and wondered, lost in thought about who,and what sort of person that lady had been. Ninety-two years old in passing the grave stone stated, engraved in fancyCalligraphy writing. A feeling of pride and long
endurance Enveloped me. I tried to imagine how her life was and how Enigmatic or memorable it may have been. Feelings of nostalgia Over came me for a while, as I stood in front of the cryptic Grave, which was her bed. `May she rest in peace' the ending Letters on the epitaph stated.
Sadly, the tomb was now looking neglected and somewhat forgotten it appeared to me. The Flowers in their tin cups had long since withered and died,Part of the tomb wall of concrete was cracked and broken with Time or perhaps damaged by vandals, who ever it was. Weeds
Also grew wild on the tomb and around its sides where she lay buried next to the cryptic fault by her husband. Her skeleton Remains like many others, gazing out upwards in to the blank Sky, her spirit or soul, possibly long since departed Somewhere else?
Elana May Jackson: born May 7th 1898©died February 8th 1989. Loved And Remembered by All Who knew her, the head stone tated. I was just about to go, that is turn away and walk on Down the pathway through the cemetery when a deluge of feelings like a flood of sunken in sentiment, compassion and Pity overcame me. I next felt, what was possibly the inner Warmth of her spirit, or guardian angel who ever it was, and a Story evolved like a series of images before my eyes.

He left her there alone and withdrawn looking, near the old barn adjacent the country road. The light breeze blowing strands of her dark hair as she watched him mount his horse saddle, jolt the horse into action with his shoe spurs and then ride off, the dust of the road hazing his appearance as he rounded a corner bend in the road and disappeared from sight. She was somewhat devastated and anxious about what to, Or where to turn to next. He was her first love and she was young, just fifteen, quite attractive and in the early throes of a teenagers life. But he left her still the same. She went Home to the parent's farmhouse where she lived not far away, going straight to her room and closing the door lay down
On her bed and cried. The tears flowing down like rivets from her eyes and dampening her soft, blushed cheeks.

Then the war came. She was still attending the convent-high school, yet wrote letters to a soldier posted over seas that She had befriended while he was on service leave. Bernie, was a young frisky, vicarious lad who was full of fun and zest for life. Elana meet him, fell in love and simply adored him. She ignored his shortcomings, they didn't faze her at all. The war dragged on for several years and she kept sending him letters. Letters that she wrote in the desk study of her bedroom. She loved receiving his letters back, though they
were often far and few between. I've been posted to the
Communications depot outside Mans on guard duty. It's a good Job away from the main action,' he once told her. ` I've been Promoted and giving the rank of corporal, I`m so chafed and delighted to be giving this honor. Hopefully I can aim for Sergeant as well' he told her in another later letter.

One day she received a caller. The news was not good. A home Office lieutenant handed her a letter stating that: Bernie Moorhead was missing, presumed captured or killed in action. Stunned, she opened the letter with her parents looking on and read it. " I`m sorry-but there is still hope yet Miss Stanton," the lieutenant told her. " There is no official Confirmation yet we`ll keep you posted," he told her.

When the war ended in early 1918, Elena decided that she
Could wait no longer for Bernie as it was now presumed that he Was dead, probably killed in action in France fighting the Germans. She moved into the Timaru Township and took a job asan office receptionist with a Textile firm. The work was Interesting enough, but it didn't excite her and she found many of the duties of time keeping and management a little too much strain for her, so she left it and worked in a drapery store at the other end of the main street of the township. She liked the work selling linen and sheets. The owner George
Theolopasis,was a middle aged Greek man. He showed her the duties Of the trade, such as how to measure the linen, cutting, be Polite and serve customers, also use the till and such like.
She enjoyed the work. Even serving some prominent artists such as Goldie, who smoking his pipe, once came in to buy some Canvass sheets for his paintings. And prominent architect Henry Valdez, his creased shirt and trousers looking un-ironed, Who came into the shop one morning, his breath? Smelling of alcohol and gruffly ordered her to cut some dark,red sheets of linen to his
specifications. She found the man Somewhat repugnant, yet he was already a famous New Zealander.

She liked to walk a lot and sometimes ride a bicycle.
Often around the back streets of the township of Timaru. She alsoliked attending the local dance hall on the Friday of each Week. That was how she meet Joe her husband. He was a mill Worker who seemed quite shy and bashful at first.

It was one summers evening, at a town barn dance on the
Outskirts of town. Joe stood at the hallway foyer entrance,Just looking at her for a long time-while others danced in Pairs or milled about the hall like he with the band playing on. Though suddenly out of the blue he strode up to her and said: " Um excuse me-er would you like to dance with me?" She was uncertain at first and hesitated for a few fleeting moments, then obliged saying. "Okay then," and stood up and they went onto the floor and in an embrace danced a slow if slightly clumsy, off beat dance. He apologized with a,'� Sorry,"
When he accidentally trod on the shoes on one of her feet
During the dance, though she just smiled-hinting it was
All right.
That was the start of their brief romance that ended Up with the pair of them getting married at the local, country Church hall. It was a day she never forgot. The two of then giving their vows and saying: " I do," repeating the Minister's words. The moment they kissed each other. Then Walking out the front entrance of the small, country church to a fanfare of a cheers and a sprinkling of well wishers Graffiti.
They were happy for a while. Elana felt she couldn't really ask for anything more. Then came a child. A young boy whom they named Gerald. There lives felt complete. Joe worked in the mill and studied for a managers Diploma at night. Everything seemed just wonderful. Events happened in there lives; small crisis that they coped with and almost forgot about. Such as the time Gerald fell off his bicycle outside and injured his knee. He ran inside the house crying his eyes out. The time Joe came home early one morning after a union Stop work meeting. The look on his face as he confronted herat the door step." What's the matter Joe?" she'd asked him
softly. He told her, that the Mill had falling on hard times and was going into receivership. Though they survived the somehow on meager food rations. September 1939-Germany under the dictator nazi Hitler and with a powerful army under his command invaded Poland. The second World War had began.
Food rationing meant they had to budget, though not as bad as some others, who struggled to get by. Joe was called up to serve in the home guard, as the Japanese after bombing Pearl Harbor launched a pacific campaign of conquest and New Zealand also seen as was intended target for invasion. Joe and the others looked quite a sight to see in their uniforms and he as a home guard captain, marching his small platoon of Soldiers, rifles on their shoulders. Hearing him calling out his orders:
" Attention men at ease. Now march! on the double
Please!'� and off they marched down the road their arms swaying in a sort of synchronized rhythm, their boots in pedantic Steps, shuffling, clobbering the ground as they went past, Elana her arms leaning on a gate fence post-watching them lost in some sort of mysterious thought.
Gerald, her son, volunteered for the war effort to be posted over seas, but failed a medical check with a detected heart murmur. Strangely it cleared up some time later, still but he helped out by volunteering for the war in the home guard lookout observation unit manning one of the big gun concrete pill box shelters situated up on Paekakariki hill. It was over looking the coast with its spectacular sight looking out at Kapiti island not far out in full view. Fortunately they waited there in vain, because the anticipated invasion never Came.
I paused for a few moments, the wind up startling Polly pop Petals from branches on the nearby tree, and they drift passed me in sifting view.....The war ended: victory in Europe day May 5th 1945. The solders that came home from the war on parade, many marching in rows, some in open hooded vehicles,the welcoming home and end of hostilities procession parade went through Wellington city from Lambton quay near parliament Buildings in Tory street, then along Willis street and up Courtney place; the crowd on the side's streets waving banners and letting out cries of joy and excitement. Somewhere
amongst the crowd Elana watched the soldiers and vehicles go by. A day that lived long on after wards in her memory.
Joe, her husband was now the mill production manager and
they lived in a nice house down Glenmore Street in Newtown. Joe holding so much responsibility and often under tension, smoked cigarettes a lot and liked the his alcohol to some extent. Over time he developed a cough that got nasty. So he gave up smoking and seemed to get better. Though he liked his Dram of whisky also, I mean they both did, but Elana only drunk sparingly when the occasion demanded it. One day though Joe felt too sick to go to work and Elana took a good look at him saying: " Your not well Joe- I'll ring a cab and well go to
the hospital".
" No I`m okay don't worry bout me Elana".
" No look. Your not well okay,'� she told him candidly,
and ringing a cab she went with him to the hospital. They both soon discovered that he was dying of internal cancer.
It was about a year later on. She was in the garden digging up some weeds, attending to her Roses when the news came. A man from the hospital arrived to tell her the news. He looked at her grimly and spoke: " I`m sorry he's gone, we did all we could". She stood there in the backyard by the lemon tree, the Lemons gleaming in the near noonday sun. Stunned, lost for words for several moments. Then turned her head away.
At the funeral later with relations, Gerald, his wife
Victoria and their daughter Flora, they stood silent by the open grave as the coffin was lowered into the pit. later on that night all-alone by the latticed window she cried, outside the rain was pouring down and the wind howling away, swaying the curtains about on and off.

Gerald with his wife Victoria came to see her regularly. The Child Flora was a bright, red haired, freckle faced-happy girl who called her, "Auntie,'� and loved to play on the creaking Swing out in the backyard of the house.
It was a short while later, when one warm summers Tuesday
Morning, there was a knock at the door and when she answered it, this strange man stood in the front porch way.
" Hello Elana my name is Bernie, do you remember me?"
" Who?" she replied with a puzzled quizzical expression.
"Bernie Moorehead, oh we were once lovers. I got lost in the War you know, remember the letters we once wrote to each other".
" Oh Bernie-sorry, I almost forgot you. But where have you
Been all this time I thought that you were dead?'� Gazing at Him, she saw that he now looked older; middle aged, balding somewhat and grew a bushy mustache.
" It's a long story. May I come inside?," he asked her.
"Well yes, come in and do explain you," she told him
Emphatically.
Over coffee in the dinning room, he told her that their
Command position base had been over run and he'd been taking Prisoner by the Germans then put in a concentration camp with many other foreigners. Although he'd somehow managed to survive the harsh horrors of the camp. After the war ended, he had lived with a gypsy woman and they traveled about Europe. She read palms and told peoples future lives from a crystal ball.
For many years, he rode the caravel at the reigns of the
horse and was her companion and lover. They had a grown up son also, Marlin but he died tragically in a road accident driving a fast car a few years ago. He knew that she (Elana) was Married and had stayed living in an Auckland suburb for many years after his partner Marian had left him in France for a Gypsy Turk man.
They, Elana and Bernie remained good friends, part-time
Lovers? Although never got married.

The years came and went. Her parents were now long dead. Of coarse she aged somewhat, but retained her zest and sparkle for life. Her moist, brown eyes still sparkled with a quiet, yet modest, thoughtful intelligence... She held the ten-cent coin in the palm of one of her hands, that she'd been giving in exchange for shillings and some sixpences when making a Purchase at the local grocer, shortly after New Zealand changed to decimal currency in the winter of 1967. Knowing the
Money currency had changed for good, so she kept a glass jar fill of pennies and half pennies for safe keeping on the ivory varnished-mantel piece in her living room, because it still made her Feel good about the past.

Elana loved to read novels and play the piano a lot. Sadly her hearts sunk with sorrow , when she recalled the April morning in 1968 she heard on the radio that the Wahine Passenger ship had floundered and sunk out, near Barrets reef at Seatoun just off Port Nicholson. The loss of life and her only brother Landon, drowning in the sea possibly because like others, he wasn't a strong Swimmer and the life boats were Crammed full of other passengers when the ship started to sink in the fierce gale. So she took to the piano a lot more, often playing away into the night trying to drown off her sorrows.
When too drained or tired to play, she was either resting up, or watching that black & White television set.

Then the Mill plant in Lower Hutt closed during a recession. Though later on the economy, then more diary produce than Manufacturing, resilient as it was started to pick up again.
That complaint to the council about the water mains, the
Blocked drains regarding plumbing, the delay in fixing it, the row over the telephone that followed. " Sorry for the delay Miss Jackson, we`ll get on to it as soon as possible," the man told her on the other end of the phone told her. Though very annoyed, she forgave them in the end. 1976 flashed by: The Vietnam war ended and the soldiers, the gunnery brigade came Home again.

Early Eighties, Computers were becoming prominent then later on Email. The cars got more modern. Still, the years hadn't dampened her lively spirit. Yet, my goodness she was still Using long hand to write her letters to correspondence Friends. Except, when perhaps it was an official letter. One Of her friends, Margaret came early one year during the Summer all the way from Surry in England on holiday to stay With her for a while and they went shopping together and Walked around the town a lot carryibg their black hand bags with them under an arms. Margaret bought her an expensive Nightgown as a parting gift, when she left to go back home which she gave to her at the airport in the waiting room while they chatted over a cup of tea . "Oh thanks Margaret you
Shouldn't have," Elena told her in surprise: " It's a parting gift for being such a good host and friend,"
she told her. Margaret basically stayed the two weeks at her hosts expense and good will, but Elana didn't mind.
Elana wore the purple nightgown often as a reminder of her visit.

She was ill in bed with a bad case of bronchitis in the
Later years of her life, living on inhalers and drugs. I
Visualized her lying there. They had gathered around her as she lay dying in the home bed, the nurse, doctor son, and niece and granddaughter, her husband and child, nephews, and other relations also stood by her bedside almost in total silence, except for the odd word here and there. The haze of sunlight coming through the partially opened window, slowly starting to fade there as she lay there and eventually died. Gerald with tears in his eyes like the others beside him, was still holding her hand, when she breathed his last breath before passing away.
A life of hope, joyous friendship and simplicity
Had been fulfilled.

I stood there no longer transfixed from looking at the
Grave, the end one in long row of them on a slight incline
then gazed for a few moments at the one next to hers, adjacent or near it with a different surname. I'd only imagined it all or had I? Afterwards I turned and walked away as it was getting late in the afternoon.
A light rain started to fall and I hurried down to the
Nearby road adjacent the cemetery to the bus stop struggling to recall the ladies name again before it somewhat slipped from my memory. Telling myself that may she rest in peace Whoever she was.

______________________________________________________

Anthony N Foote
March 4th 2006
































Epitaph For Elana

I stood by the grave and wondered, lost in thought about who,
and what sort of person that lady had been. Ninety-two years
Old in passing the grave stone stated, engraved in fancy
Calligraphy writing. A feeling of pride and long endurance
Enveloped me. I tried to imagine how her life was and how
Enigmatic or memorable it may have been. Feelings of nostalgia
Over came me for a while, as I stood in front of the cryptic
Grave, which was her bed. `May she rest in peace' the ending
Letters on the epitaph stated. Sadly, the tomb was now looking
neglected and somewhat forgotten it appeared to me. The
Flowers in their tin cups had long since withered and died,
Part of the tomb wall of concrete was cracked and broken with
Time or perhaps damaged by vandals, who ever it was. Weeds
Also grew wild on the tomb and around its sides where she lay
buried next to the cryptic fault by her husband. Her skeleton
Remains like many others, gazing out upwards in to the blank
Sky, her spirit or soul, possibly long since departed
Somewhere else?
Elana May Jackson: born May 7th 1898©died February 8th 1989.
Loved And Remembered by All Who knew her, the head stone
Stated. I was just about to go, that is turn away and walk on
Down the pathway through the cemetery when a deluge of
Feelings like a flood of sunken in sentiment, compassion and
Pity overcame me. I next felt, what was possibly the inner
Warmth of her spirit, or guardian angel who ever it was, and a
Story evolved like a series of images before my eyes.

He left her there alone and withdrawn looking, near the old
barn adjacent the country road. The light breeze blowing
strands of her dark hair as she watched him mount his horse
saddle, jolt the horse into action with his shoe spurs and
then ride off, the dust of the road hazing his appearance as
he rounded a corner bend in the road and disappeared from
sight. She was somewhat devastated and anxious about what to,
Or where to turn to next. He was her first love and she was
young, just fifteen, quite attractive and in the early throes
of a teenagers life. But he left her still the same. She went
Home to the parent's farmhouse where she lived not far
Away, going straight to her room and closing the door lay down
On her bed and cried. The tears flowing down like rivets from
her eyes and dampening her soft, blushed cheeks.

Then the war came. She was still attending the convent-high
school, yet wrote letters to a soldier posted over seas that
She had befriended while he was on service leave. Bernie, was
a young frisky, vicarious lad who was full of fun and zest for
life. Elana meet him, fell in love and simply adored him. She
ignored his shortcomings, they didn't faze her at all. The
war dragged on for several years and she kept sending him
letters. Letters that she wrote in the desk study of her
bedroom. She loved receiving his letters back, though they
were often far and few between. ` I've been posted to the
Communications depot outside Mans on guard duty. It's a good
Job away from the main action,' he once told her. ` I've been
Promoted and giving the rank of corporal, I`m so chafed and
delighted to be giving this honor. Hopefully I can aim for
Sergeant as well' he told her in another later letter.



One day she received a caller. The news was not good. A home
Office lieutenant handed her a letter stating that: Bernie
Moorhead was missing, presumed captured or killed in action.
Stunned, she opened the letter with her parents looking on and
read it. " I`m sorry-but there is still hope yet Miss
Stanton," the lieutenant told her. " There is no official
Confirmation yet we`ll keep you posted," he told her.

When the war ended in early 1918, Elena decided that she
Could wait no longer for Bernie as it was now presumed that he
Was dead, probably killed in action in France fighting the
Germans. She moved into the Timaru Township and took a job as
an office receptionist with a Textile firm. The work was
Interesting enough, but it didn't excite her and she found
many of the duties of time keeping and management a little too
much strain for her, so she left it and worked in a drapery
store at the other end of the main street of the township. She
liked the work selling linen and sheets. The owner George
Theolopasis, middle aged Greek man. He showed her the duties
Of the trade, such as how to measure the linen, cutting, be
Polite and serve customers, also use the till and such like.
She enjoyed the work. Even serving some prominent artists such
as Goldie, who smoking his pipe, once came in to buy some
Canvass sheets for his paintings. And prominent architect
Henry Valdez, his creased shirt and trousers looking un-ironed,
Who came into the shop one morning, his breath?
Smelling of alcohol and gruffly ordered her to cut some dark,
red sheets of linen to his specifications. She found the man
Somewhat repugnant, yet he was already a famous New Zealander.

She liked to walk a lot and sometimes ride a bicycle.
Often around the back streets of the township of Timaru. She also
liked attending the local dance hall on the Friday of each
Week. That was how she meet Joe her husband. He was a mill
Worker who seemed quite shy and bashful at first.

It was one summers evening, at a town barn dance on the
Outskirts of town. Joe stood at the hallway foyer entrance,
Just looking at her for a long time-while others danced in
Pairs or milled about the hall like he with the band playing
on. Though suddenly out of the blue he strode up to her and
said: " Um excuse me-er would you like to dance with me?"
She was uncertain at first and hesitated for a few fleeting
moments, then obliged saying. "Okay then," and stood up and
they went onto the floor and in an embrace danced a slow if
slightly clumsy, off beat dance. He apologized with a,'� Sorry,"
When he accidentally trod on the shoes on one of her feet
During the dance, though she just smiled-hinting it was
All right. That was the start of their brief romance that ended
Up with the pair of them getting married at the local, country
Church hall. It was a day she never forgot. The two of then
Giving their vows and saying: " I do," repeating the
Minister's words. The moment they kissed each other. Then
Walking out the front entrance of the small, country church to
A fanfare of a cheers and a sprinkling of well wishers
Graffiti.
They were happy for a while. Elana felt she couldn't really
ask for anything more. Then came a child. A young boy whom
they named Gerald. There lives felt complete. Joe worked in
The mill and studied for a managers Diploma at night.
Everything seemed just wonderful. Events happened in there
Lives; small crisis that they coped with and almost forgot
About. Such as the time Gerald fell off his bicycle outside
And injured his knee. He ran inside the house crying his eyes
Out. The time Joe came home early one morning after a union
Stop work meeting. The look on his face as he confronted her
At the door step." What's the matter Joe?" she'd asked him
softly. He told her, that the Mill had falling on hard times
and was going into receivership. Though they survived the
Somehow on meager food rations. September 1939-Germany under
the dictator nazi Hitler and with a powerful army under his
command invaded Poland. The second World War had began.
Food rationing meant they had to budget, though not as bad
as some others, who struggled to get by. Joe was called up to
Serve in the home guard, as the Japanese after bombing Pearl
Harbor launched a pacific campaign of conquest and New
Zealand also seen as was intended target for invasion. Joe and
the others looked quite a sight to see in their uniforms and
he as a home guard captain, marching his small platoon of
Soldiers, rifles on their shoulders. Hearing him calling out
His orders: " Attention men at ease. Now march! on the double
Please!'� and off they marched down the road their arms swaying
in a sort of synchronized rhythm, their boots in pedantic
Steps, shuffling, clobbering the ground as they went past, Elana
her arms leaning on a gate fence post-watching them lost in
some sort of mysterious thought.
Gerald, her son, volunteered for the war effort to be posted
over seas, but failed a medical check with a detected heart
murmur. Strangely it cleared up some time later, still but he
Helped out by volunteering for the war in the home guard lookout
observation unit manning one of the big gun concrete pill
box shelters situated up on Paekakariki hill. It was over
Looking the coast with its spectacular sight looking out at
Kapiti island not far out in full view. Fortunately they
Waited there in vain, because the anticipated invasion never
Came.
I paused for a few moments, the wind up startling Polly pop
Petals from branches on the nearby tree, and they drift passed
me in sifting view.....The war ended: victory in Europe day
May 5th 1945. The solders that came home from the war on
parade, many marching in rows, some in open hooded vehicles,
the welcoming home and end of hostilities procession parade
Went through Wellington city from Lambton quay near parliament
Building in Tory street, then along Willis street and
Courtney place; the crowd on the side's streets waving
banners and letting out cries of joy and excitement. Somewhere
amongst the crowd Elana watched the soldiers and vehicles go
by. A day that lived long on after wards in her memory.
Joe, her husband was now the mill production manager and
they lived in a nice house down Glenmore Street in Newtown.
Joe holding so much responsibility and often under tension,
smoked cigarettes a lot and liked the his alcohol to some
extent. Over time he developed a cough that got nasty. So he
gave up smoking and seemed to get better. Though he liked his
Dram of whisky also, I mean they both did, but Elana only
drunk sparingly when the occasion demanded it. One day though
Joe felt too sick to go to work and Elana took a good look at
him saying: " Your not well Joe- I'll ring a cab and well go to
the hospital".
" No I`m okay don't worry bout me Elana".
" No look. Your not well okay,'� she told him candidly,
and ringing a cab she went with him to the hospital. They both
soon discovered that he was dying of internal cancer.
It was about a year later on. She was in the garden digging up
some weeds, attending to her Roses when the news came. A man
from the hospital arrived to tell her the news. He looked at
her grimly and spoke: " I`m sorry he's gone, we did all we
could". She stood there in the backyard by the lemon tree, the
Lemons gleaming in the near noonday sun. Stunned, lost for
words for several moments. Then turned her head away.
At the funeral later with relations, Gerald, his wife
Victoria and their daughter Flora, they stood silent by the
Open grave as the coffin was lowered into the pit. Later on
that night all-alone by the latticed window she cried, outside
the rain was pouring down and the wind howling away, swaying
the curtains about on and off.

Gerald with his wife Victoria came to see her regularly. The
Child Flora was a bright, red haired, freckle faced-happy girl
Who called her, "Auntie,'� and loved to play on the creaking
Swing out in the backyard of the house.
It was a short while later, when one warm summers Tuesday
Morning, there was a knock at the door and when she answered
It this strange man stood in the front porch way.
" Hello Elana my name is Bernie, do you remember me?"
" Who?" she replied with a puzzled quizzical expression.
"Bernie Moorehead, oh we were once lovers. I got lost in the
War you know, remember the letters we once wrote to each
Other".
" Oh Bernie-sorry, I almost forgot you. But where have you
Been all this time I thought that you were dead?'� Gazing at
Him, she saw that he now looked older; middle aged, balding
Somewhat and grew a bushy mustache.
" It's a long story. May I come inside," he asked her.
"Well yes, come in and do explain you," she told him
Emphatically.
Over coffee in the dinning room, he told her that their
Command position base had been over run and he'd been taking
Prisoner by the Germans then put in a concentration camp with
Many other foreigners. Although he'd somehow managed to
Survive the harsh horrors of the camp. After the war ended, he
Lived with a gypsy woman and they traveled about Europe. She
Read palms and told peoples future lives from a crystal ball.
For many years, he rode the caravel at the reigns of the
horse and was her companion and lover. They had a grown up son
Also, Marlin but he died tragically in a road accident driving
A fast car a few years ago. He knew that she (Elana) was
Married and had stayed living in an Auckland suburb for many
Years after his partner Marian had left him in France for a
Gypsy Turk man.
They, Elana and Bernie remained good friends, part-time
Lovers? Although never got married.

The years came and went. Her parents were now long dead.
Of coarse she aged somewhat, but retained her zest and sparkle
For life. Her moist, brown eyes still sparkled with a quiet,
Yet modest, thoughtful intelligence... She held the ten-cent
Coin in the palm of her hand, that she'd been giving in
Exchange for shillings and some sixpences when making a
Purchase at the local grocer, shortly after New Zealand
Changed to decimal currency in the winter of 1967. Knowing the
Money currency had changed for good, so she kept a glass jar
fill of pennies and half pennies for safe keeping on the ivory
Varnished-mantel piece in her living room, it still made her
Feel good about the past.

Elana loved to read novels and play the piano a lot. Sadly
her hearts sunk with sorrow , when she recalled the April
morning in 1968 she heard on the radio that the Wahine
Passenger ship had floundered and sunk out, near Barrets reef
at Seatoun just off Port Nicholson. The loss of life and her
only brother Landon, drowning in the sea possibly because like
others, he wasn't a strong Swimmer and the life boats were
Crammed full of other passengers when the ship started to sink
in the fierce gale. So she took to the piano a lot more, often
playing away into the night trying to drown off her sorrows.
When too drained or tired to play, she was watching that black
& White television set.

Then the Mill plant in Lower Hutt closed during a recession.
Though later on the economy, then more diary produce than
Manufacturing, resilient as it was started to pick up again.
That complaint to the council about the water mains, the
Blocked drains regarding plumbing, the delay in fixing it, the
row over the telephone that followed. " Sorry for the delay
Miss Jackson, we`ll get on to it as soon as possible," the man
told her on the other end of the phone told her. Though
annoyed, she forgave them in the end. 1976 flashed by: The
Vietnam war ended and the soldiers, the gunnery brigade came
Home again.

Early Eighties, Computers were becoming prominent then later
on Email. The cars got more modern. Still, the years hadn't
Dampened her lively spirit. Yet, my goodness she was still
Using long hand to write her letters to correspondence
Friends. Except, when perhaps it was an official letter. One
Of her friends, Margaret came early one year during the
Summer all the way from Surry in England on holiday to stay
With her for a while and they went shopping together and
Walked around the town a lot. Margaret bought her an expensive
Nightgown as a parting gift, when she left to go back home
which she gave to her at the airport in the waiting room while
they chatted over a cup of tea . "Oh thanks Margaret you
Shouldn't have," Elena told her in surprise: " It's a parting
gift for being such a good host and friend,"
she told her. Margaret basically stayed the two weeks at her
hosts expense and good will, but Elana didn't mind.
Elana wore the purple nightgown often as a reminder of her
visit.

She was ill in bed with a bad case of bronchitis in the
Later years of her life, living on inhalers and drugs. I
Visualized her lying there. They had gathered around her as
she lay dying in the home bed, the nurse, doctor son, and niece
and granddaughter, her husband and child, nephews, and other
relations also stood by her bedside almost in total silence,
Except for the odd word here and there. The haze of sunlight
coming through the partially opened window, slowly starting to
fade there as she lay there and eventually died. Gerald with
tears in his eyes like the others beside him, was still
holding her hand, when she breathed his last breath before
passing away. A life of hope, joyous friendship and simplicity
Had been fulfilled.

I stood there no longer transfixed from looking at the
Grave, the end one in long row of them on a slight incline©
then gazed for a few moments at the one next to hers, adjacent
or near it with a different surname. I'd only imagined it all
Or had I? Afterwards I turned and walked away as it was
getting late in the afternoon.
A light rain started to fall and I hurried down to the
Nearby road adjacent the cemetery to the bus stop struggling
to recall the ladies name again before it somewhat slipped
from my memory. Telling myself that may she rest in peace
Whoever she was.

______________________________________________________

Anthony N Foote
March 4th 2006


























Epitaph For Elana

I stood by the grave and wondered, lost in thought about who,
and what sort of person that lady had been. Ninety-two years
Old in passing the grave stone stated, engraved in fancy
Calligraphy writing. A feeling of pride and long endurance
Enveloped me. I tried to imagine how her life was and how
Enigmatic or memorable it may have been. Feelings of nostalgia
Over came me for a while, as I stood in front of the cryptic
Grave, which was her bed. `May she rest in peace' the ending
Letters on the epitaph stated. Sadly, the tomb was now looking
neglected and somewhat forgotten it appeared to me. The
Flowers in their tin cups had long since withered and died,
Part of the tomb wall of concrete was cracked and broken with
Time or perhaps damaged by vandals, who ever it was. Weeds
Also grew wild on the tomb and around its sides where she lay
buried next to the cryptic fault by her husband. Her skeleton
Remains like many others, gazing out upwards in to the blank
Sky, her spirit or soul, possibly long since departed
Somewhere else?
Elana May Jackson: born May 7th 1898©died February 8th 1989.
Loved And Remembered by All Who knew her, the head stone
Stated. I was just about to go, that is turn away and walk on
Down the pathway through the cemetery when a deluge of
Feelings like a flood of sunken in sentiment, compassion and
Pity overcame me. I next felt, what was possibly the inner
Warmth of her spirit, or guardian angel who ever it was, and a
Story evolved like a series of images before my eyes.

He left her there alone and withdrawn looking, near the old
barn adjacent the country road. The light breeze blowing
strands of her dark hair as she watched him mount his horse
saddle, jolt the horse into action with his shoe spurs and
then ride off, the dust of the road hazing his appearance as
he rounded a corner bend in the road and disappeared from
sight. She was somewhat devastated and anxious about what to,
Or where to turn to next. He was her first love and she was
young, just fifteen, quite attractive and in the early throes
of a teenagers life. But he left her still the same. She went
Home to the parent's farmhouse where she lived not far
Away, going straight to her room and closing the door lay down
On her bed and cried. The tears flowing down like rivets from
her eyes and dampening her soft, blushed cheeks.

Then the war came. She was still attending the convent-high
school, yet wrote letters to a soldier posted over seas that
She had befriended while he was on service leave. Bernie, was
a young frisky, vicarious lad who was full of fun and zest for
life. Elana meet him, fell in love and simply adored him. She
ignored his shortcomings, they didn't faze her at all. The
war dragged on for several years and she kept sending him
letters. Letters that she wrote in the desk study of her
bedroom. She loved receiving his letters back, though they
were often far and few between. ` I've been posted to the
Communications depot outside Mans on guard duty. It's a good
Job away from the main action,' he once told her. ` I've been
Promoted and giving the rank of corporal, I`m so chafed and
delighted to be giving this honor. Hopefully I can aim for
Sergeant as well' he told her in another later letter.



One day she received a caller. The news was not good. A home
Office lieutenant handed her a letter stating that: Bernie
Moorhead was missing, presumed captured or killed in action.
Stunned, she opened the letter with her parents looking on and
read it. " I`m sorry-but there is still hope yet Miss
Stanton," the lieutenant told her. " There is no official
Confirmation yet we`ll keep you posted," he told her.

When the war ended in early 1918, Elena decided that she
Could wait no longer for Bernie as it was now presumed that he
Was dead, probably killed in action in France fighting the
Germans. She moved into the Timaru Township and took a job as
an office receptionist with a Textile firm. The work was
Interesting enough, but it didn't excite her and she found
many of the duties of time keeping and management a little too
much strain for her, so she left it and worked in a drapery
store at the other end of the main street of the township. She
liked the work selling linen and sheets. The owner George
Theolopasis, middle aged Greek man. He showed her the duties
Of the trade, such as how to measure the linen, cutting, be
Polite and serve customers, also use the till and such like.
She enjoyed the work. Even serving some prominent artists such
as Goldie, who smoking his pipe, once came in to buy some
Canvass sheets for his paintings. And prominent architect
Henry Valdez, his creased shirt and trousers looking un-ironed,
Who came into the shop one morning, his breath?
Smelling of alcohol and gruffly ordered her to cut some dark,
red sheets of linen to his specifications. She found the man
Somewhat repugnant, yet he was already a famous New Zealander.

She liked to walk a lot and sometimes ride a bicycle.
Often around the back streets of the township of Timaru. She also
liked attending the local dance hall on the Friday of each
Week. That was how she meet Joe her husband. He was a mill
Worker who seemed quite shy and bashful at first.

It was one summers evening, at a town barn dance on the
Outskirts of town. Joe stood at the hallway foyer entrance,
Just looking at her for a long time-while others danced in
Pairs or milled about the hall like he with the band playing
on. Though suddenly out of the blue he strode up to her and
said: " Um excuse me-er would you like to dance with me?"
She was uncertain at first and hesitated for a few fleeting
moments, then obliged saying. "Okay then," and stood up and
they went onto the floor and in an embrace danced a slow if
slightly clumsy, off beat dance. He apologized with a,'� Sorry,"
When he accidentally trod on the shoes on one of her feet
During the dance, though she just smiled-hinting it was
All right. That was the start of their brief romance that ended
Up with the pair of them getting married at the local, country
Church hall. It was a day she never forgot. The two of then
Giving their vows and saying: " I do," repeating the
Minister's words. The moment they kissed each other. Then
Walking out the front entrance of the small, country church to
A fanfare of a cheers and a sprinkling of well wishers
Graffiti.
They were happy for a while. Elana felt she couldn't really
ask for anything more. Then came a child. A young boy whom
they named Gerald. There lives felt complete. Joe worked in
The mill and studied for a managers Diploma at night.
Everything seemed just wonderful. Events happened in there
Lives; small crisis that they coped with and almost forgot
About. Such as the time Gerald fell off his bicycle outside
And injured his knee. He ran inside the house crying his eyes
Out. The time Joe came home early one morning after a union
Stop work meeting. The look on his face as he confronted her
At the door step." What's the matter Joe?" she'd asked him
softly. He told her, that the Mill had falling on hard times
and was going into receivership. Though they survived the
Somehow on meager food rations. September 1939-Germany under
the dictator nazi Hitler and with a powerful army under his
command invaded Poland. The second World War had began.
Food rationing meant they had to budget, though not as bad
as some others, who struggled to get by. Joe was called up to
Serve in the home guard, as the Japanese after bombing Pearl
Harbor launched a pacific campaign of conquest and New
Zealand also seen as was intended target for invasion. Joe and
the others looked quite a sight to see in their uniforms and
he as a home guard captain, marching his small platoon of
Soldiers, rifles on their shoulders. Hearing him calling out
His orders: " Attention men at ease. Now march! on the double
Please!'� and off they marched down the road their arms swaying
in a sort of synchronized rhythm, their boots in pedantic
Steps, shuffling, clobbering the ground as they went past, Elana
her arms leaning on a gate fence post-watching them lost in
some sort of mysterious thought.
Gerald, her son, volunteered for the war effort to be posted
over seas, but failed a medical check with a detected heart
murmur. Strangely it cleared up some time later, still but he
Helped out by volunteering for the war in the home guard lookout
observation unit manning one of the big gun concrete pill
box shelters situated up on Paekakariki hill. It was over
Looking the coast with its spectacular sight looking out at
Kapiti island not far out in full view. Fortunately they
Waited there in vain, because the anticipated invasion never
Came.
I paused for a few moments, the wind up startling Polly pop
Petals from branches on the nearby tree, and they drift passed
me in sifting view.....The war ended: victory in Europe day
May 5th 1945. The solders that came home from the war on
parade, many marching in rows, some in open hooded vehicles,
the welcoming home and end of hostilities procession parade
Went through Wellington city from Lambton quay near parliament
Building in Tory street, then along Willis street and
Courtney place; the crowd on the side's streets waving
banners and letting out cries of joy and excitement. Somewhere
amongst the crowd Elana watched the soldiers and vehicles go
by. A day that lived long on after wards in her memory.
Joe, her husband was now the mill production manager and
they lived in a nice house down Glenmore Street in Newtown.
Joe holding so much responsibility and often under tension,
smoked cigarettes a lot and liked the his alcohol to some
extent. Over time he developed a cough that got nasty. So he
gave up smoking and seemed to get better. Though he liked his
Dram of whisky also, I mean they both did, but Elana only
drunk sparingly when the occasion demanded it. One day though
Joe felt too sick to go to work and Elana took a good look at
him saying: " Your not well Joe- I'll ring a cab and well go to
the hospital".
" No I`m okay don't worry bout me Elana".
" No look. Your not well okay,'� she told him candidly,
and ringing a cab she went with him to the hospital. They both
soon discovered that he was dying of internal cancer.
It was about a year later on. She was in the garden digging up
some weeds, attending to her Roses when the news came. A man
from the hospital arrived to tell her the news. He looked at
her grimly and spoke: " I`m sorry he's gone, we did all we
could". She stood there in the backyard by the lemon tree, the
Lemons gleaming in the near noonday sun. Stunned, lost for
words for several moments. Then turned her head away.
At the funeral later with relations, Gerald, his wife
Victoria and their daughter Flora, they stood silent by the
Open grave as the coffin was lowered into the pit. Later on
that night all-alone by the latticed window she cried, outside
the rain was pouring down and the wind howling away, swaying
the curtains about on and off.

Gerald with his wife Victoria came to see her regularly. The
Child Flora was a bright, red haired, freckle faced-happy girl
Who called her, "Auntie,'� and loved to play on the creaking
Swing out in the backyard of the house.
It was a short while later, when one warm summers Tuesday
Morning, there was a knock at the door and when she answered
It this strange man stood in the front porch way.
" Hello Elana my name is Bernie, do you remember me?"
" Who?" she replied with a puzzled quizzical expression.
"Bernie Moorehead, oh we were once lovers. I got lost in the
War you know, remember the letters we once wrote to each
Other".
" Oh Bernie-sorry, I almost forgot you. But where have you
Been all this time I thought that you were dead?'� Gazing at
Him, she saw that he now looked older; middle aged, balding
Somewhat and grew a bushy mustache.
" It's a long story. May I come inside," he asked her.
"Well yes, come in and do explain you," she told him
Emphatically.
Over coffee in the dinning room, he told her that their
Command position base had been over run and he'd been taking
Prisoner by the Germans then put in a concentration camp with
Many other foreigners. Although he'd somehow managed to
Survive the harsh horrors of the camp. After the war ended, he
Lived with a gypsy woman and they traveled about Europe. She
Read palms and told peoples future lives from a crystal ball.
For many years, he rode the caravel at the reigns of the
horse and was her companion and lover. They had a grown up son
Also, Marlin but he died tragically in a road accident driving
A fast car a few years ago. He knew that she (Elana) was
Married and had stayed living in an Auckland suburb for many
Years after his partner Marian had left him in France for a
Gypsy Turk man.
They, Elana and Bernie remained good friends, part-time
Lovers? Although never got married.

The years came and went. Her parents were now long dead.
Of coarse she aged somewhat, but retained her zest and sparkle
For life. Her moist, brown eyes still sparkled with a quiet,
Yet modest, thoughtful intelligence... She held the ten-cent
Coin in the palm of her hand, that she'd been giving in
Exchange for shillings and some sixpences when making a
Purchase at the local grocer, shortly after New Zealand
Changed to decimal currency in the winter of 1967. Knowing the
Money currency had changed for good, so she kept a glass jar
fill of pennies and half pennies for safe keeping on the ivory
Varnished-mantel piece in her living room, it still made her
Feel good about the past.

Elana loved to read novels and play the piano a lot. Sadly
her hearts sunk with sorrow , when she recalled the April
morning in 1968 she heard on the radio that the Wahine
Passenger ship had floundered and sunk out, near Barrets reef
at Seatoun just off Port Nicholson. The loss of life and her
only brother Landon, drowning in the sea possibly because like
others, he wasn't a strong Swimmer and the life boats were
Crammed full of other passengers when the ship started to sink
in the fierce gale. So she took to the piano a lot more, often
playing away into the night trying to drown off her sorrows.
When too drained or tired to play, she was watching that black
& White television set.

Then the Mill plant in Lower Hutt closed during a recession.
Though later on the economy, then more diary produce than
Manufacturing, resilient as it was started to pick up again.
That complaint to the council about the water mains, the
Blocked drains regarding plumbing, the delay in fixing it, the
row over the telephone that followed. " Sorry for the delay
Miss Jackson, we`ll get on to it as soon as possible," the man
told her on the other end of the phone told her. Though
annoyed, she forgave them in the end. 1976 flashed by: The
Vietnam war ended and the soldiers, the gunnery brigade came
Home again.

Early Eighties, Computers were becoming prominent then later
on Email. The cars got more modern. Still, the years hadn't
Dampened her lively spirit. Yet, my goodness she was still
Using long hand to write her letters to correspondence
Friends. Except, when perhaps it was an official letter. One
Of her friends, Margaret came early one year during the
Summer all the way from Surry in England on holiday to stay
With her for a while and they went shopping together and
Walked around the town a lot. Margaret bought her an expensive
Nightgown as a parting gift, when she left to go back home
which she gave to her at the airport in the waiting room while
they chatted over a cup of tea . "Oh thanks Margaret you
Shouldn't have," Elena told her in surprise: " It's a parting
gift for being such a good host and friend,"
she told her. Margaret basically stayed the two weeks at her
hosts expense and good will, but Elana didn't mind.
Elana wore the purple nightgown often as a reminder of her
visit.

She was ill in bed with a bad case of bronchitis in the
Later years of her life, living on inhalers and drugs. I
Visualized her lying there. They had gathered around her as
she lay dying in the home bed, the nurse, doctor son, and niece
and granddaughter, her husband and child, nephews, and other
relations also stood by her bedside almost in total silence,
Except for the odd word here and there. The haze of sunlight
coming through the partially opened window, slowly starting to
fade there as she lay there and eventually died. Gerald with
tears in his eyes like the others beside him, was still
holding her hand, when she breathed his last breath before
passing away. A life of hope, joyous friendship and simplicity
Had been fulfilled.

I stood there no longer transfixed from looking at the
Grave, the end one in long row of them on a slight incline©
then gazed for a few moments at the one next to hers, adjacent
or near it with a different surname. I'd only imagined it all
Or had I? Afterwards I turned and walked away as it was
getting late in the afternoon.
A light rain started to fall and I hurried down to the
Nearby road adjacent the cemetery to the bus stop struggling
to recall the ladies name again before it somewhat slipped
from my memory. Telling myself that may she rest in peace
Whoever she was.

______________________________________________________

Anthony N Foote
March 4th 2006

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