Betty Winifred Moore

Why was she born so beautiful, why was she born at all? Aren’t we lucky that she was? And she really was beautiful.Elizabeth, Betty, Mum, Ma, Aunty Bet, Nanna, Nanny, Nan, Great Nanna, Snag.She was a lot of things to a lot of people. The life of the party, a true social butterfly, and everyone’s biggest cheerleader.You would think that two decades of having babies would slow a person down, but not our Nanna. Our Nanna played tennis. She got her name on fishing trophies at the Fremantle Sailing Club. She could cook for an army. She danced to all her favourite songs, and they were all her favourite songs. Nanna was always happy to see you and wanted to know what you were up to, always with a ‘Good on ya, love’.My memories of growing up in this family centre around two things. Family barbeques and holidays in Point Peron. Food was always at the centre of these occasions and at the centre of the food was Nanna. No one starved in her presence, so us grandkids never did believe our parents who insisted there was only ever one sausage between the seven of them. At barbeques you always hoped to be at the dessert table when Nanna was there because you were guaranteed a massive slice of her sponge cake, passionfruit icing on top, and a dollop of cream bigger than your head. She loved to make us kids happy, and if she didn’t do it with sponge cake, she would find an opportunity to pop out her falsies and chase you around just to get a laugh. The aunties all still moan about the first time plastic plates came out for a barbeque, Nanna and Aunty Rae cleaning them at the kitchen sink instead of throwing them in the bin as intended. I think part of her liked the chance to chat and laugh around the kitchen without the menfolk.It was in Point Peron that we kids glimpsed what life must have been like raising so many children, not that we appreciated it then, but Nanna was in her element. She loved to take care of her family. Nanna seemed to be tethered to the kitchen bench, insistent that us kids go and play. Pop had us out on the boat every morning, probably to give the poor woman a moment of peace. We’d come back with a haul of crabs and Nanna would get to work cooking and cleaning them, then do it all again the next day.We had so much fun there. Your cousins really are your first friends. Not having smart phones to occupy us, we wrote plays and skits and forced our poor exhausted grandparents to sit and watch us perform each night. We thought it hilarious the time Nanna came out in Pop’s clothes, putting on an act of being stern and grouchy and telling us kids to stop being so bloody stupid. We rolled around laughing and thought it couldn’t get any better than that, but somehow she managed it. I’ll never know how she did it, but she convinced Pop, stern, grouchy Pop, to come out wearing one of her most flowery dresses and a sunhat. She was the softness to Pop’s hard ways, but she could still manage to get that man into a dress for our amusement.She was a nurturer too. I still remember the time poor Kathleen, suffering from a painful insect bite, was being soothed by Nanna, antiseptic cream in hand, glasses somewhere she couldn’t find. Then Pop walked into the room. ‘Jesus Bet, what are you doing with my hemorrhoid cream?’ Kathleen didn’t think it was as funny as the rest of us. Nanna never could find her glasses.There was one morning I got to have Nanna all to myself, a rare moment. My sister and cousins were out on the boat with Pop, providing burley after a night none of them could properly remember the next day. Nanna and I made her sponge cake, tennis playing in the background, and chatted, just the two of us. I don’t remember what about, but she taught me that morning how to separate eggs with my hands and I‘ve done it that way ever since. The others returned looking slightly more green than when they left, but their secrets were kept and they still got sponge cake after dinner.Nanna’s door was always open. She loved to share a beer and a chat. She loved her family and her family loved her. Nanna’s sense of fun never wavered, always laughing and sharing stories. Right until the end her mind was willing, but her body was finally exhausted after a lifetime of making everyone around her smile.It was at the birthday of another beautiful Elizabeth, my youngest cousin, that I saw Nanna last. Before heading off to bed she turned to me and said something I’d heard her say many times before. ‘Mel, the old grey mare, she ain’t what she used to be.’Nanna, you’ve earnt yourself a rest, but I have no doubt you’re already far too busy for that, catching up with Lorraine, laughing with Aunty Rae and reminding Pop to let his soft side show. Have a dance. Play some tennis. Go fishing with Pop. I hope the beer is cold and the crabs are already cooked and cleaned. Don’t forget the vinegar.

To all of my extended family. If so sorry for your loss. I truly am. I will always remember Mrs Moore (bett) fondly and also being the life of the party and how she loved to dance I imagine she will be watching every one celebrate her amazing life today Love Colleen