GOODBYE DAD

Whenever my father was asked how old he was he’d say: ‘92 not out. Not a bad cricket score.’  We thought he’d be at the crease forever. He was finally bowled last Friday. Dick Hinch died in his sleep in a nursing home in New Plymouth, New Zealand.  My Dad was a gentle, kind, loyal and honest man. Used to boast that he was a ‘jack of all trades and master of none.’

He worked as a baker, a cab driver, a bus driver, a grocery store owner and a milkman. He could fix anything on wheels. He lived through the Depression and fought in the Pacific in World War Two. He went AWOL to visit my mother when I was born in 1944.

With his wife Betty, whom he met when driving cabs in New Plymouth (after venturing into ‘the Big Smoke’ from a hamlet called Opunake), he  raised four kids: Desmond, Barbara, Derryn and Sandra. He was proud of all our achievements at home and abroad and he adored his grandchildren.

After our mother died in 1990 he found love again with Bet and they spent nearly twenty years together. She survives him.

My Dad loved to drive, whether it be a car, a bus, a taxi or a golf ball. And he had a great sense of humour – although his jokes were often bad ones. Even now, if one of my jokes falls flat, I say ‘That’s a Dick joke’.

When he was having a good time he’d say ‘I wonder what the rich people are doing?’ because his life couldn’t get any richer. His favourite expression: ‘Corker!’

And corker you were Dad.  I’ll miss you.

Monday, June 1, 2009*

* Hinch Says will resume Thursday, May 4th.

© Copyright Derryn Hinch 2009