Continuation from last writing.

The cheapest rent mother could find was a ferry and bus ride from downtown Auckland. Also, it was overgrown and somewhat shabby. However, it was idyllic! The apartment was a walk out onto the lawn, over the fence, and onto the beach. As a child, I could not imagine a nicer environment. For my mother it was an arduous daily commute, but as she often reflected, at least when we are at home we have a holiday environment and I can recharge my soul. To enhance that, we spent the first weeks cleaning and creating the ideal. Ironically our work at cleaning the property led to the owner being able to sell the property within a year of our being there. Mother’s take was, therefore, to get to own a home as soon as possible so she would not be imposed upon by others’ actions. From that experience and learning I too have always sought, often without “money” to find the oasis commensurate with my means, so that Home was a regenerating station. This I realize now after living many years and shifting many times.

Mother decided she wanted to have a business importing European goods needed in New Zealand. She came with connections forged before leaving Europe. Her connections included exporting lamb and dairy products from NZ and bringing Lowenbrau, and consumer items from Europe. The bubble was soon burst on several levels. 1) all major exports from NZ were controlled by Government agencies 2) those that were not were certainly not going to get given to a WOMAN!

All Change! Realizing the barriers present she decided to import small accessories for the nascent manufacturing industry of NZ. Laces, Handbag frames, sequin edging, anything where a man would feel it too menial but which enabled her to craft a living. She Applied for agencies under the guise of M.I Ruzio and progressively built a business that nurtured our home and fostered our education. The lesson on flexibility was made clear. It took time to establish her income, during which time she waited tables in a fish and chip shop and (owned by Yugoslaves) brought home piece work from factories which we undertook in the evenings after dinner while listening to the radio. Sewing pom poms on lampshades remains a vivid memory. (Child labor, you bet, but we did not mind as we understood it was us 3 against a relatively hostile environment – we were “Bloody foreigners” which was later modified but not overcome through the good fortune of sporting prowess).