I cast my mind back to February 1962 and I am in this weatherboard and corrugated iron hut situated out on Middle Head in Sydney, having been shepherded in with 56, (I think – I mean it was 48 years ago!) other equally bewildered and wary people, either in their late teens or early twenties. I plonk myself down at a table towards the rear of the room, (where I was to spend a large part of the next two years as it eventuated), and then beside me a tall, athletic-looking, dark haired man also plonks himself down with a gritty, resigned look on his face. He turns and looks at me with big brown eyes and grunts, “G’day.” I responded in an equally loquacious manner and thus began our friendship. Neither Dave or I were all that big on words – we thought we were men of deeds. After all ‘actions speak louder than words’ was an adage instilled in both of us by our respective upbringing. However I decided then and there that if I were ever going to be in a fight with this bloke, I’d rather have him on my side than on the opposite side.
Over the ensuing months, groups and friendships emerged and developed (or exploded.) I discovered that Dave and I had a lot of things in common – a love of all sport and rugby in particular, cards and 500 in particular, beer, (Tooheys of course,) and table tennis - (Dave thought he had a match winning backhand.) It soon became apparent that we both had very competitive natures in most things, although it would be fair to say that this did not extend to our academic studies.
David was a taciturn person, private and close. He took time to develop relationships but they lasted a lifetime. He did not suffer fools easily and had little time for those with airs and graces. He was a country boy - what you saw was what you got. But he was as soft as marshmellow if ever you could crack that front he put up. I rather suspect that few people ever did manage to crack his façade and that was just fine with Dave.
After six months or so at college Dave came to the conclusion that while life in Sydney had its moments there was definitely something lacking and so he started up a student movement he named “The Drive”. Essentially the object of this movement was to uncover some female companionship which was in a somewhat short supply as the majority of us had descended on Sydney from other states or the country or overseas and so our social contacts in the big smoke were very limited to say the least. The first foray of the founding members of “The Drive” was to the Lane Cove town hall where weekly dances were held. I was one of Dave’s mates chosen for this initial skirmish, mainly I think because I had a reasonably reliable vehicle. It was at this dance that David met Kerry. Not long afterwards I recall Dave saying something along the lines of “She’s the one”. That occasion also saw the end of “The Drive.” Dave had met his life-long-companion-to-be and he and Kerry were married a few months later. I think this was the smartest move Dave ever made and I know he knew it.
We certainly did not share a common interest in music – Dave had quite some talent in this area whilst I had none. In retrospect and looking back on things I believe that Dave should have become a music teacher. At any rate he managed to pass some of his musical genes to his daughter Michelle who was able to make music her career. Some of his sporting genes were picked up by his son Jonathon, who represented the mid coast region in athletics.
After college and our dispatch to various parts of Papua New Guinea our paths crossed all too infrequently. There ensued quite long periods of little or no communication between the two of us but I know that David taught in the New Ireland District, Western Highlands District of PNG, as well as Bulolo (Morobe District.). On returning to Australia he had a brief respite from teaching as an insurance salesman for a couple of years until he returned to teaching once again. This time he taught at a school for disadvantaged children in Sydney where most of the children had disabilities of various kinds. It takes a special kind of person to adapt to this very demanding role and I know from discussions with David that it was here that he found his true métier. He told me that the nine years he had at this school was the most rewarding and satisfying of his teaching career. He truly believed that he was able to make a difference in these children’s lives. He finished his teaching at Kempsey High School in 1990. After a short stint at Portland, Dave and family returned to the mid coast region at Wauchope and bought a property large enough to produce crops of native flowers. Alas, competition from large companies made this venture largely unsuccessful. It was here in Wauchope that I caught up with Dave and Kerry once again We had a great week together – much of which I must confess, was spent at the Wauchope Country Club consuming considerable quantities of the amber fluid and reminiscing long into the early hours.
Then there was the first reunion of ASOPIANS at Port Macquarie in 2002. Most of our year group managed to gather there and celebrate the 40th anniversary of our first year in teachers’ college.
Dave and Kerry then decided that a change of scenery was required and they sold up and moved to Smithton (on the northwest coast of Tasmania.) I visited the Argents at Smithton and spent another great week, most of which was spent at the Smithton RSL Club doing the same sorts of things we had done at the Wauchope Country Club. Dave didn’t take too kindly to the local beer (Boags) and the management of the club decided that Dave’s patronage was definitely worth hanging on to and they decided to install a VB tap. (They wouldn’t come at Tooheys as Tasmanians generally don’t acknowledge that there are any other states worthy of consideration outside of their own and Victoria.) David was duly grateful and settled for the odd glass of VB every now and then.
Dave and Kerry attended the next reunion of the 62-63 ASOPIANS, which was held in Sydney not far from our old stamping grounds when we were college students. It was a nostalgic return to the past.
A few years ago Dave’s health took a turn for the worse and this subsequently saw a significant decline in the amount of VB sold at the Smithton RSL. Unfortunately things went from bad to worse with David’s ailments and he finally succumbed on the 31st of October 2010 after a brave battle. He is to be buried in the family plot at a place called Argent’s Hill near Bowraville NSW. (Fancy having a place named after your family!!) Dave leaves behind Kerry, his wife of 48 years, son Jonathon, daughter Michelle, their respective spouses and six grandchildren.
He will be lovingly remembered and not just by his family.
I am really going to miss hearing Dave’s voice around Christmas time when he’d ring up with his annual call – “Moose, thought I’d ring instead of sending a card. How are you going?”
Bob Davis
