Young Morris puts pen to paper
Nathan's dear friend and my esteemed former colleague, Master Nathan Morris sent the our Nathan a letter today that charted his memories of Dad. Nath is a wonderful writer and the letter deserves a wider audience. We hope you enjoy it as much as we all did when Nathan G read it aloud.
Don't worry that you can't be with us Nathan M - this letter was as good as having you in the room. He loved your wit ( no malice, just mischief) and mind. Much love from all of us.
Geoff Gibbs was one of the first of my friend’s dad’s that I remember meeting. Imagine 1980, primary school in Perth – a sea of khaki 10 year olds in a stinking hot playground that represented the world. Flying High and Stir Crazy about to revolutionise our lives, Jona Lewie on the mono AWA, and the impending arrival of ‘the other Nathan’ from America was the talk of the school. I don’t know if we first became friends because we had the same name or for deeper reasons (probably not at age 10), or because you had the exotic back story of living overseas. But we hit it off pretty quickly and I soon recall being invited over to Florence Street and meeting the whole family: the big sisters (yuck! – apologies to Paige and Ashley), Carol and Geoff, welcoming from the first. Geoff seemed a giant, matched by his booming voice – the famous actor according to those in the know at school, so he was the first person of repute I can say that I’ve met. The other great thing about Geoff at the time was his managerial stint at the Captain Sterling, which though a bit young for free middies, we capitalised on in other ways. I think it was your 11th birthday and a visit to the pub was arranged: the tabletop space invader-type game set up in a private room for our sole usage. I remember your Dad lining up little towers of 20 cent pieces on the table top and thinking, ‘is there anything better than this? Open slather space invaders, all the coca cola you can drink…” How many dad’s in the world had that power? It all added to the mystique of your family I guess. In my parent’s record collection we had Moog Plays the Beatles and a few albums by the Kingston Trio. Yours seemed to be a vast collection of lps – Broadway musicals, Hollywood movie soundtracks, tons of albums that you probably didn’t think much of but to me were little windows into a world your Dad inhabited but which I was so unfamiliar with – the world of the performing arts. And photos of your time in America – the Corn Palace, amusement parks, the monuments and landmarks. Most vividly I seem to recall a photo of Geoff wearing a CSU toilet seat around his neck - which I guess was the style of the day in 1979 Columbus…
I seem to have spent countless hours at your house, riding over to South Perth from Shenton Park, a feat that seems inconceivable today…and Geoff always showing an interest in what I was doing (as indeed your whole family did) and I always felt so welcome, though there were some ‘incidents’ that are probably best left unsaid. Except for this one - when Pete and I were over one day and under your direction Nifty we were in your garden throwing eggs as high as we could into the air and trying to catch them whole…this exercise somehow ended up as a barrage of eggs bombarding the outside of Mrs Hulls’s abode (did this contribute to her early demise, or the demise of her pet budgie? An unproven hypothesis here). Suddenly out of nowhere Geoff appeared, and to this day I can remember him standing stock still in furious anger, assessing the scene, roaring… Pete and I sent home not long after, leaving you to the world of punishment owing to a 12 year old egg terrorist. And referring to that scene many times after over the years with you in great fits of laughter, but probably only funny to us.
And being invited to the theatre, an experience I had only had previously at a family dinner at Romano’s in 1979. Essington Lewis – Geoff Gibbs as the founder of BHP in a musical exploration of a big man in and beyond his lifetime. To this day the exhortation of “work is my life…life is my work” is a timely reminder of Geoff onstage. And how could I forget the ultimate combo – you Nifty and your dad bedazzling us in a play about god knows what – I think Merlin, with Geoff as Merlin of course. And then there were the other perks: the great river cruise I was invited to, with the cast from a play your dad was appearing in which included Manuel from Fawlty Towers (Andrew Sachs) – a softly spoken and boring Englishman I seem to recall - we were quietly shunted to the front of the boat with the other teenagers while the adults tucked into the Blue Nun and cocktail cheese, Geoff the only one to pop his head in to see how we were. But the currency this had back at school was weighty indeed.
And television – again in the eyes of a teenager to see your dad in the first world war trenches (A Fortunate Life ) was so fantastic…as was watching Zombie Brigade a few years later, fantastic though for different reasons. I hate using the expression ‘larger than life’ but your dad certainly inhabited a place that seemed to transcend the suburbs and people of my childhood – relative fame, overseas travel, on stage and on screen, all things I thought were fabulous.
And even through the wayward twenties your dad was not averse to quizzing me with great jocularity on any and all topics when I was at your house, mooching in the basement or idling near the Florian. We didn’t get in as much trouble then, but I’m not sure why…
And then at your wedding seeing Geoff in full flight – what a fantastic demonstration of humour and love, a natural onstage.
I think the last time I saw him was at Shannaz wedding – embarrassingly a long time ago now. Saying, “Look at you, with your beautiful wife and beautiful son, I’m so thrilled for you – see how far you’ve come since I last saw you” – which was the highlight of the day for me.
So Nifty I don’t have much else to say and you’re probably tired of reading, but without hyperbole I can say that in the award winning category of ‘Friends Parents’ Geoff stands on top of the heap and most of my memories of him are ones that generate great laughter, which is a rare distinction. I think that as with the birth of a child, the death of a loved one requires us to live a little less selfishly: we have to look inside ourselves to process what’s going on in the outer world, in our relationships with family and colleagues, - and with death I think our marks as a people will be how we cope with the pain and the grief. And I hope that you and Carol, Paige and Ashley can draw on the great and happy memories you have of Geoff to bring some light to the darkness created by his passing.
Don't worry that you can't be with us Nathan M - this letter was as good as having you in the room. He loved your wit ( no malice, just mischief) and mind. Much love from all of us.
Geoff Gibbs was one of the first of my friend’s dad’s that I remember meeting. Imagine 1980, primary school in Perth – a sea of khaki 10 year olds in a stinking hot playground that represented the world. Flying High and Stir Crazy about to revolutionise our lives, Jona Lewie on the mono AWA, and the impending arrival of ‘the other Nathan’ from America was the talk of the school. I don’t know if we first became friends because we had the same name or for deeper reasons (probably not at age 10), or because you had the exotic back story of living overseas. But we hit it off pretty quickly and I soon recall being invited over to Florence Street and meeting the whole family: the big sisters (yuck! – apologies to Paige and Ashley), Carol and Geoff, welcoming from the first. Geoff seemed a giant, matched by his booming voice – the famous actor according to those in the know at school, so he was the first person of repute I can say that I’ve met. The other great thing about Geoff at the time was his managerial stint at the Captain Sterling, which though a bit young for free middies, we capitalised on in other ways. I think it was your 11th birthday and a visit to the pub was arranged: the tabletop space invader-type game set up in a private room for our sole usage. I remember your Dad lining up little towers of 20 cent pieces on the table top and thinking, ‘is there anything better than this? Open slather space invaders, all the coca cola you can drink…” How many dad’s in the world had that power? It all added to the mystique of your family I guess. In my parent’s record collection we had Moog Plays the Beatles and a few albums by the Kingston Trio. Yours seemed to be a vast collection of lps – Broadway musicals, Hollywood movie soundtracks, tons of albums that you probably didn’t think much of but to me were little windows into a world your Dad inhabited but which I was so unfamiliar with – the world of the performing arts. And photos of your time in America – the Corn Palace, amusement parks, the monuments and landmarks. Most vividly I seem to recall a photo of Geoff wearing a CSU toilet seat around his neck - which I guess was the style of the day in 1979 Columbus…
I seem to have spent countless hours at your house, riding over to South Perth from Shenton Park, a feat that seems inconceivable today…and Geoff always showing an interest in what I was doing (as indeed your whole family did) and I always felt so welcome, though there were some ‘incidents’ that are probably best left unsaid. Except for this one - when Pete and I were over one day and under your direction Nifty we were in your garden throwing eggs as high as we could into the air and trying to catch them whole…this exercise somehow ended up as a barrage of eggs bombarding the outside of Mrs Hulls’s abode (did this contribute to her early demise, or the demise of her pet budgie? An unproven hypothesis here). Suddenly out of nowhere Geoff appeared, and to this day I can remember him standing stock still in furious anger, assessing the scene, roaring… Pete and I sent home not long after, leaving you to the world of punishment owing to a 12 year old egg terrorist. And referring to that scene many times after over the years with you in great fits of laughter, but probably only funny to us.
And being invited to the theatre, an experience I had only had previously at a family dinner at Romano’s in 1979. Essington Lewis – Geoff Gibbs as the founder of BHP in a musical exploration of a big man in and beyond his lifetime. To this day the exhortation of “work is my life…life is my work” is a timely reminder of Geoff onstage. And how could I forget the ultimate combo – you Nifty and your dad bedazzling us in a play about god knows what – I think Merlin, with Geoff as Merlin of course. And then there were the other perks: the great river cruise I was invited to, with the cast from a play your dad was appearing in which included Manuel from Fawlty Towers (Andrew Sachs) – a softly spoken and boring Englishman I seem to recall - we were quietly shunted to the front of the boat with the other teenagers while the adults tucked into the Blue Nun and cocktail cheese, Geoff the only one to pop his head in to see how we were. But the currency this had back at school was weighty indeed.
And television – again in the eyes of a teenager to see your dad in the first world war trenches (A Fortunate Life ) was so fantastic…as was watching Zombie Brigade a few years later, fantastic though for different reasons. I hate using the expression ‘larger than life’ but your dad certainly inhabited a place that seemed to transcend the suburbs and people of my childhood – relative fame, overseas travel, on stage and on screen, all things I thought were fabulous.
And even through the wayward twenties your dad was not averse to quizzing me with great jocularity on any and all topics when I was at your house, mooching in the basement or idling near the Florian. We didn’t get in as much trouble then, but I’m not sure why…
And then at your wedding seeing Geoff in full flight – what a fantastic demonstration of humour and love, a natural onstage.
I think the last time I saw him was at Shannaz wedding – embarrassingly a long time ago now. Saying, “Look at you, with your beautiful wife and beautiful son, I’m so thrilled for you – see how far you’ve come since I last saw you” – which was the highlight of the day for me.
So Nifty I don’t have much else to say and you’re probably tired of reading, but without hyperbole I can say that in the award winning category of ‘Friends Parents’ Geoff stands on top of the heap and most of my memories of him are ones that generate great laughter, which is a rare distinction. I think that as with the birth of a child, the death of a loved one requires us to live a little less selfishly: we have to look inside ourselves to process what’s going on in the outer world, in our relationships with family and colleagues, - and with death I think our marks as a people will be how we cope with the pain and the grief. And I hope that you and Carol, Paige and Ashley can draw on the great and happy memories you have of Geoff to bring some light to the darkness created by his passing.
posted by Paige at 10:57 pm
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