We are here today to reflect and celebrate the life of Ray. Hopefully I will not bore you, as that would not do justice to his interesting life.
It is amazing how little is known about some parts of his life, he was a very independent and private person who didn’t talk about himself often or freely. Hopefully I can fill in some of the blanks and tell you a few stories that will remind you of Ray and make you smile.
Raymond Karley was born 9th August 1924 in Wandsworth London. He was the youngest of 10 children; he had 7 brothers and 2 sisters. Ray often claimed this is why he had no middle name as his parents had run out of names. Most in this room would know him as Nunk or Cuck, who needs a middle name. A little girl Elizabeth who Nan used to look after in England called him Nunky Ray, as she couldn’t say uncle. This was soon shortened to Nunk, which stuck. Cuck is credited to myself who could not get my tongue around Nunk. It’s probably lucky that my kids called him Grandad! Ray’s father Thomas was a fishmonger who ran a mixed business from the back of his van. Ray’s mother Alice Hudson died when he was three and Ray’s oldest sister Bertha was the mother figure in the household. Ray often spoke of Bertha’s Rock cakes, he was real sweet tooth. A favourite story he used to tell us of his childhood was the day he found a pound note in his father’s pants pocket. He spent this pound on sweets and lollies. A LOT of sweets and lollies. His father Thomas was very careful with money normally, a trait that Ray adopted during his life. His father used to pay the kids a penny for working on his grocery round as long as they spent the penny on lollies from his van. His father was also rumoured to say to the children “Who will go to bed without dinner for a tuppence”. The next morning as the hungry children emerged for breakfast his father would say “who wants breakfast for a tuppence”! Not sure of the truth of this but Ray enjoyed telling the story. The Karley’s were part of a strict religion called “Christadelphian’s”. This religion was enforced upon the family, Ray and most of the boys did not take to this religion. I find it ironic that this religion shunned technology and there was not even a radio in the house. The irony is that at 719 Barrenjoey Road there are 5 TV’s, numerous radio’s, 2 Fox Boxes and countless DVD’s and Videos. Ray was obviously not a Christadelphian. Ray left home at the age of 15, poorly educated, but this never held him back. He was a hard worker, good with his hands and intelligent. He worked in engineering companies and learnt the trade of welding. In later life he was partner of a very successful business in England “Karley, Wilkinson Engineering”, and later in Australia owned with my Nan a wrought iron, blacksmiths business in Brookvale. He has been dubbed Mr Fixit by my kids, and has been fixing things for three generations of kids, Ray and my dad, Kirk and myself and more recently my kids. Ray Rides tells me that sometimes Ray would fix things that didn’t need fixing, and wind up toys received at Christmas soon had their weights removed and would be flying across the kitchen floor twice as fast as the maker intended. If Ray made something it was made to last. He was an excellent welder and he built everything to survive an atomic blast. Big heavy screen doors, railings and gates and walking sticks. Yes after Ray’s first hip replacement he made a walking stick out of solid metal rod. The weight was enough to give a normal person a limp. During World War II Ray served in the British Army. Ray never spoke of this but last year was interviewed by my son Jordan for an ANZAC Day speech he had to perform at school. I would like to read you part of that speech now as he knew more about his war time service than any one else.
We remember highly decorated War heroes, and reflect on legends like Simpson and his Donkey in Gallipoli, but we also remember people you will not read about in any book like my great grandfather. He was in the British army for 4 ½ years. He was a messenger until they posted him to the 6th airborne division. He flew in a glider from England to France in the dark of night. On the 6th of June 1944 (also known as D-Day) he was captured by the Germans, which made him a Prisoner of War. He was a Prisoner of War for a total of 11 months during which time he marched for five weeks around Germany and was bombed twice on trains until he was set free by the Americans. My Great grandad often joked that he helped win the war by keeping the Germans busy guarding him. To me he is a hero and is worth remembering on ANZAC day. Near the end of the war, Ray served in Egypt where he developed pneumonia which was the start of his long struggle with airways disease. During his hospitalisation in Egypt he was fed steamed chicken and rice daily, he never ate rice or chicken again. At the end of the war he met my Nan and helped raise Ray and Peter. In 1962 Ray and Nan were married before emigrating to Australia in 1965 following Ray, Ruth and the other early pilgrims to Avalon. Ray and Nan brought 719 Barrenjoey Rd and have lived there for the last 44 years. In 1972 Kirk and myself were taken into Ray and Nan’s care and 719 is still home to both of us. We are both indebted to the sacrifice they both made for us, and the achievement of helping raise 4 boys over two generations is something Ray spoke to Ray Rides about recently. In 1977 Ray retired and sold his business due to ill health. After a quick trip to the UK, Canada, and Disneyland, which Kirk and I were lucky enough to be on, Ray opened a small wrought iron business in the back garage. He was a worker and walking the dogs Butch, Princess, and later Duke was not enough. He used to laugh that he used his medical oxygen for his oxy acetylene torch. He couldn’t get Acetylene through repat. He stopped work about 1999 as his health deteriorated. Ray will be remembered for many things, his Chocolate Box (huge box in the fridge full of chocolate), he will be missed whenever I have to fix something. He will be remembered as a strong person with a weak chest, the doctors labelled him a miracle to live as long as he did. He was the man with the vice like grip and apparently you wouldn’t want to play him at knuckles. He died peacefully in his sleep last Sunday. He was ready to go. He had had Nan cut is hair the day before. As Jordan wrote in his speech, “to me he is a hero and worth remembering.” Wayne Rides
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