​Becoming a widow has to be the worst thing to happen to a woman lucky enough to experience a very happy marriage. The pain is unsurmountable.

No one warns you of the changes to be made, if your husband dies first. Of the bills that have to be altered, and the hundreds of hours spent on the phone, dealing with bureaucracy.

The first year has to be the worst, but if you think it gets better, think again. Suddenly you realise that the days can become easier, as you keep yourself busy, cooking, cleaning, housework and shopping. Maybe a catch up with friends, and a meal out occasionally. But nothing stops the loneliness at night. Sitting in front of the television watching your favourite shows that you watched together, just doesn’t do it for you anymore. Playing cards with your best friends and an empty chair beside you. I could go on, but changes have to be made.

Fortunately I was lucky to have the friendship of neighbours. They called most days to see if I was O.K..  These two women told me about U3A. I couldn’t see how this would help with the depression I was slipping into, but on reading the list of options, I suddenly became interested. Why on earth I chose Creative Writing and As Time Goes Bye, I’ll never know. It has been 68 years since I left school.

My friend Pat took me to my first class run by Joy Shirley, and the following week I drove
myself to Bev’s. It was daunting at first, and I wondered what an earth I was doing. But as the weeks turned into months, I realised my life was so much happier, and my evenings, much easier to bare. I do have trouble remembering the rules of writing. i.e. paragraphs, commas, etc, but the thrill of writing has made me very happy. I love coming to the classes, and listening to your stories. It has given me a passion I never thought I had.

My two sons and their families are very supportive. They love reading my stories, and have both noticed the change in me. I know John would be proud of me too. I thank my friends and my teachers for encouraging me to give it a go.

​If only I’d known how great U3A was, John and I should have joined, when we returned from Geelong in 2014.

Word must be getting around though. Our members increase every year, and an abundance of classes are there for the picking.

Jan Nicholls
May 2026

“If Only” is usually something that we say when we are full of regret about a decision that we have made. Often those “If Only” moments would have been totally life changing events
.
I, like most people, have had several “If Only” moments which I spent some time regretting but, having passed up those opportunities, have led to the life I am living today, which is happy and satisfying.
 
… She said something like, “It would be easier if I had a horse.”
 
This got us talking as we waited for the tram which we were catching because there was a train drivers’ strike for off peak travel. I knew I could get close to home on the tram but was a bit uncertain of the route.
 
We got talking about horse riding and city versus country living. It was one of those conversations between a young man and young woman that was about exploring possibilities, gauging levels of attraction.
 
I knew she was going to the end of the line at the St Kilda terminal. I was so engrossed in the conversation that I didn’t take much notice of where we were until I looked up and saw that we had stopped at the end of my street.
 
Did I stay on the tram and casually say “Would you like to get some lunch in St Kilda?” Or “Oh, that was my stop, I’ll go through to the end and catch another tram back later.”
No, I didn’t. I got up, said “This is my stop”, jumped off, and immediately thought “Why did I do that?”
 
I’ve often described it as my uncoolest moment, but, if I hadn’t done that my whole life could have been different.
 
The opposite of “If only” is “I’m glad I did that.”
 
I was flying from New York to L.A. The inflight movie was “Chariots of Fire” which I had seen several times.
 
The woman across the aisle was having trouble with her headphones, so I helped her by plugging them into the outlet on my seat, across the aisle. This, of course, required a level of cooperation as people went past us.
 
After the movie we got talking. On realising that I hadn’t booked accommodation she offered to put me up at her place for the night.
 
‘Her’ place was actually her parents' place in Bel Air. Her father was the conductor of the Los Angeles Symphony Orchestra. Her parents were away.
 
It was the start of a long weekend, and she and her siblings were having a party on the holiday Monday, and she asked me to stay for it. Her brother was a tennis pro so the guests were from the world of music and sport.
 
The next day she drove me to the outskirts of the city so I could begin a journey hitchhiking up the west coast to Vancouver. She was worried about me doing that, so, when I called her on the morning I arrived back in LA a couple of months later, she gladly picked me up and looked after me for the day before taking me to the airport for my flight home that night.


​John Holschier
October 2025
 

If Only ...When I think back, IF ONLY I had asked my Mother about her early life with my Grandparents....

When my Mother died in 2013 I came across 35 letters my Grandfather had written to her, when he returned to Scotland, after the death of my Grandmother in 1952. 

The letters described how my Grandfather returned home to Scotland after 32 years.  He hadn’t seen his brothers and sisters in all that time.  He stayed with different members of his family and there was plenty of celebrating with his home coming.
 
He had three brothers and three sisters.  Unfortunately one brother was killed in the First World War, another lived in Bath and the eldest lived on the Isle of Arran off the West coast of Scotland.  My grandfather stayed on the island with his brother for many months.  His brother had 12 cats, which all had names and were fed milk and mince every day.  He was a gardener and lived a very quiet life.  He never married or ventured very far from home. ​

​He also stayed with one of his sisters, who lived near Loch Lomond in a beautiful village called Luss.  He loved it there and stayed frequently.
 
In 1973 when I lived in London I was able to visit my Grandfather’s sister in Luss.  It was beautiful to hear her strong Scottish accent, as she portrayed her happy experiences with my Grandfather.  The letters had given me plenty of information about my Grandfather’s siblings.  It gave me great satisfaction to be finally able to meet some of them

​I was intrigued to find out more about this beautiful Scottish homestead,  I noticed they had an open garden day so I contacted the owners and said I had photos from 1921.  They invited us down to see the beautiful homestead and gardens.

​It had been a fabulous experience looking back to the past era when my Grandparents and my mother lived at Ercildoune.
 
It gave me great satisfaction to know that I had been to where my Grandparents and my mother settled, when they arrived in Australia 104 years go.
​
 
Robyn Desmier
October, 2025

'Envy'  

If only ... they hadn’t swapped me at birth with Princess Anne. I might have lived a life of luxury.   But . . . that terrible brother. How embarrassing! Don’t get me started on the sisters in law.

'Disappointment'

If only ... Dad and I had arrived at the ABC studios a few minutes earlier, I might have found my voice on Kindergarten of the Air. We ended up at the top of the ‘losers’ queue. Thank goodness; a shy, introverted country child would have been mute in the presence of the bright lights and cheerfulness.

'Jealousy'  

If only ... I’d been a boy, I might have got a Meccano set for Christmas like cousin Philip who grew up to be an engineer. The Coronation doll seemed a poor substitute until little brother ran away with her head after a tug of war over possession. Finally a trip to the dolls hospital put Queenie back together and I regained possession.

'Immunity'

​If only ... I hadn’t caught whooping cough when I began school, my lungs might be stronger. Then again, if I hadn’t taken up smoking . . . Some children contracted polio. Most of us passed around chicken pox, measles, German measles, mumps.
 
If only, modern parents had seen and experienced these events.

'Protection'  

If only ... I had stayed out of the midday sun, the pathology reports would not refer to ‘sun damaged skin.’ Like spit roasts, we basted ourselves with coconut oil and adjusted position to attain a golden crust.

'Dislocation'

If only ... the Eildon Weir had not flooded our valley, creeping over the sheep yard flats and up the hill behind the house, seeping into the backyard, dislocating our lives.
 
If only ... Dad had come home with the title to a block of land in Benalla, as he intended, instead of two blocks in Euroa. Looking into that mirror, life looks the same but different!

'Wishful thinking'

If only ... I’d been able to get past Saucepan Man and Dame Washalot, I might have reached the top of the faraway tree and been transported to another land. Would there have been a way back? Would I have wanted to return?

If only ... I had learned to fly a plane, I might have performed daring feats like Biggles. However, after experiencing the G forces of a Pitts Special aerobatic plane, my preference is to stay upright with two feet firmly planted on the ground.
 
'Fantasy'

If only ... it was true that Paul McCartney was waving at me personally from the balcony of the Southern Cross Hotel ...

​Anne Stewart
​October 2025

On the last day of winter, being in lockdown, I had settled in to watch the Paralympics on T.V.  Being a lovely day, Bernadette was doing outside chores in the sunshine.

Next thing I knew, she entered the lounge room, trembling and in a state of frenzy.  "Didn't you hear me?  Didn't you hear me?".  I blissfully hadn't heard a thing but the television.  After some time she calmed down and told me the story.  It goes like this:- In the back yard she had discovered a plover chick, stranded.  She tried to console it and was attached, not once, but many times, but the mother plover which was diving viciously at her.  Somehow she escaped and came inside.

After hearing the story, we both went out to the laundry back window and gazed out into the yard.

We saw the chick, not moving, just lying on the lawn in the sun.  There was the occasional magpie flying over the yard, and then, out of nowhere, a squawking plover descended and hurriedly ran to the chick, nextling it lovingly, still squawking.  Enchanted, we stood there for some time by the window, wondering what what would happen next.  Eventually, another squawking plover flew over the yard, came back and landed, out of vision of the mother, and tentatively strutted sround.  Both birds were making a lot of noise but no progress in getting together.

Then from the T.V. in the lounge room came the sound of a band playing the Australian national anthem.  Another Australian Gold Medal!

Distracted, we left the window and went to see who had won the medal.  After listening to the anthem and the subsequent interview with the victor, we returned to our viewing position.

Nothing to be seen!  Both plovers and the chick were gone!  How did this happen?  However had the adult birds managed to move their chick?  We will never know!

IF ONLY WE HADN'T BEEN DISTRACTED!!

Since that day I have constantly wondered!  I am intrigued by nature, by the bird world, by the animal world, by humanity, by the universe!  I feel assured of a deity!  Indeed, I have experienced an epiphany!


Ray O'Shannessy
8th September 2021

​I was 5 years old when my parents took a break from their marriage. My family had migrated from New Zealand to Canada some 18 months before, where my dad had settled well. My mother had not, and she returned to New Zealand with my older sister, younger brother and me. On our return, she took a nursing position and moved into the nurse’s accommodation. My sister moved in with our paternal grandparents in a small coastal town some 100 miles away. My younger brother, still a toddler, went to live with my maternal grandparents, also some 100miles away but in a farming district. They sent me to live with my aunt and uncle.

​It was the best thing to happen in my brief life.

My uncle and aunt lived in suburban Auckland with their three sons. I was about a year younger than the youngest cousin. Reflecting now, I’m not sure that my cousins viewed my arrival as the wonderful event that I experienced. Surely I unbalanced their happy home? To me, though, it was bliss. My aunt enrolled me in the local primary school, which I attended with my cousins. I adored her. She cheerfully assisted at the school. I especially recall days when she would attend to make lunches that the pupils could buy. They were a simpler time, with Vegemite and potato chip sandwiches and little boxes of sultanas. School lunch day was a treat anyway, but observing my aunt mixing with the other mothers made me feel irrationally content. At home, she would sew, knit and cook. She would make me dresses and we would venture out to purchase the fabric and trim, often making a similar dress for my dolls. My cousins and I would play outside. Their large backyard was a paradise for small children. The boys were partial to games of cowboys and Indians. To this day my eldest cousin and I think of each other as brother
and sister.

They are memories of apple pies and laughter, sunshine and love.

My father returned to New Zealand and reunited our family. My mother and her sister
were not close, and we rarely visited the family that I loved. I experienced a profound
sadness that never left me, wondering how my life would have been different if I’d been
able to remain with them.

I renewed my relationship with my aunt and her family when I dated my husband and we
discovered he knew their family well. As a couple, we relished the opportunity to spend
time with them. My aunt embroidered and sewed a beautiful layette for my daughter when
she was born.

Many years later, she was diagnosed with leukaemia. Knowing her time was limited, we
scraped together the airfare so I could return to visit with her. The time we spent helped
me to understand the family dilemma surrounding the situation with our family. While my
head understood this decision, my heart always wonders what my life would have been if
only I’d stayed with them.


Michelle Aitken,
September 2021

‘If only I …had not joined U3A’, I would not be struggling to write a 500-word essay on the night before such work is due. I must admit that the fault is mine as I am inclined to procrastinate and need a looming deadline to motivate me.  Unfortunately, I have found this procrastination has even affected my sleep, as I toss and turn whilst trying to compose my required essay. However, at this stage of my life, time is a precious commodity.  There are a multitude of things I could do that would be of more interest to me!  As my husband pointed out I could spend the time reading the mountain of books I have piled up on my bedside table.
 
I joined U3A in 2020 as I hoped it would motivate me to continue my Family History Research which had been pushed to one side by life's other commitments.  The push to join Memoir Writing was the hope I could one day tell my father’s story.  My other enrolments were in Sustainability and German for Beginners. I have continued with the first three, but German came to an end halfway through last year as I found I was spending eight to ten hours a week doing homework. I opted instead to join Duolingo and have continued using that as my language option until now.
 
The fact that COVID 19 has been a feature of both years has not been helpful as Lock downs have featured on and off.  Normal life has been impacted which does affect one's outlook and thus the ability to concentrate for any length of time. In short, there has been plenty of time to spend researching Family History, but the motivation and concentration have been lacking. The more physical chores are easier to manage than mental ones. Today for instance, instead of sitting down and writing, I spent eight hours in the garden. I did feel the satisfaction of a job well done but was still tossing up my choice of essay topic.
 
The fact that I am continuing with my classes means that I do not regret this decision overall, even though it does sometimes make me think “If only I hadn't”.
 
 
Marg McCrohan
26 September 2021

Joy has 'tweaked' her earlier 'If only...' story for this month's session ...
​
So many of the “If only” times in our lives can have such positive results.  For me, I think that focussing on “If only” can be irrelevant to our lives, and in some situations resulting in just making us unhappy or depressed.  In thinking about this topic, I can only be grateful for the decisions we have made and the results that we have lived, rather than things we have missed out on in our lives.

The majority of the significant “If only” occasions that really have made a significant improvement in my life are positives.  So I have listed some of these positive “if only” occasions in our lives. 

“If only” I had stayed close to the office when travelling to Melbourne on business, instead of travelling across town to stay with my mother, I WOULD NOT have spent the last night and morning of her life with her.

“If only” we had not left Canberra to move to Benalla, I MIGHT not have joined U3A and met so many new friends.  I miss some of my Canberra friends but we can still catch up with those in Canberra when travel permits, and new friends have enriched our lives as.

“If only” we had bought one of the other houses we looked at in Benalla, I MAY not have had such great neighbours.  Of course I MAY have met just as many different great neighbours.

“If only” we had not supported our daughter in her move to Perth to train at the Western Australian Academy of Performing Arts at 16 years old, there may have been several consequences.  She MAY have resented our decision, causing lots of tension.  But she WOULD NOT have ended in a difficult relationship which fortunately did not last.  And through several of her own “if only” decisions she would not have her current career and happy family situation.

“If only” my husband had not seen the career page in the local newspaper, our son MAY have not trained as an officer in the Merchant Navy ending up working in a job he loves, and which has given him a very comfortable lifestyle.  Of course he may have lived closer to us, but his own life could not have been as enriched.


Joy Shirley
September 2021

These words rang in my ears many times during my childhood. As we grow, adults tend to give you the minimum of information by saying ‘don’t do that’, or ‘don’t go in there’. But you ask yourself, “why??” Is there something in there that may harm me, “what is it??” and yes, in the absence of any further information, you invariably ignored the basic warnings and went about seeking confirmation as to why you had been given the instruction.

There were a number of these warnings given to me over the years, but I still sought out the confirmation. One specific incident occurred as we were about to go out. The plan was to move the calf that we were rearing, from the milking shed and tether it out in the paddock so its mother could feed it that night, as we would not be home to milk her. I was told to wait until my father came to assist, as the calf was now rather large and very strong. I duly ignored the instruction and went to the milking shed to move the calf on my own. Well, I untied the calf and was walking out through the yard, which was very muddy at the time, when the calf bolted. I did not let go of the rope and was dragged through the mud and manure for some considerable distance, until the calf stopped at its mother to drink. I was covered in mud and manure from head to toe. My father arrived and secured the calf to the post it was to be tied to. All my mother and father could do was laugh at the sight of me soaked, and in need of an urgent bath and a fresh set of clothes to go out.

History is a marvellous thing, we cannot change it, we can only learn from it. Ignoring instructions does become part of your adolescent leaning process; fortunately my learning process did not result in any serious ongoing injuries.

​
Barry O’Connor.
September 2021.
​

It was in June 1968 that I came to Benalla as a recently graduated civil engineer in my fledging career with the Country Roads Board (CRB).  I was replacing another young engineer who, along with two other Melbourne based CRB engineers, was tragically killed whilst inspecting the Hume Highway near Barnawartha in February 1968.

As I was to be married a couple of months later, I was allowed to take up residence in a modest house in Maud Street, one of fourteen houses the CRB owned within the town. These houses were provided for engineers, surveyors and skilled tradesmen who were often transitory in their CRB employment, particularly the younger engineers who would move, seeking promotion, to another country division or back to Head Office at Kew.  Acceptance of renting these CRB houses was subject to a very strange condition in that you were forbidden to have greyhounds, ferrets or pigeons—no mention of dingoes or eagles.  
 
Many engineers would journey through their career and life moving from one CRB house to another. However, like some other engineers, I felt it would be beneficial to board the home ownership merry-go-round somewhere not too far along the career path.

So, in late 1971 my wife and I, with our 15-month-old son, inspected building blocks in a recently developed housing estate on the former property of Lady Knox near Ferntree Gully. This estate was in the developing outer eastern suburbs of Melbourne, not that far from where my wife and I had spent our childhoods.  Its attractive treed allotments within a well- designed streetscape environment appealed to us as our future family home after my transfer back to Head Office. The purchase price of $4,500 per block we considered reasonable, so we decided to purchase two adjacent blocks - pay for one and pay the second block off.

Then, in late 1973, we received an offer from an estate agent for us to sell the blocks for $6000 each. We had received other lesser offers over the past 6 months as popularity grew for available blocks within this estate. However, this latest offer gained our attention as our original plans to migrate back to Melbourne had come under review.  Another son was now part of our family, and we were settling into country life in Benalla.  I had also just qualified as a Municipal Engineer which provided me with prospects of alternate employment as a Shire or City Engineer.

We accepted the agent’s offer in December 1973. Then three months later, only just three months—thanks to the inflationary policies of the Whitlam Government—those very same blocks were on sale for $ 12,000 each!                                                                                                           

If only I`d (we) had waited for another 3 months.   If only ---


Gary Edwards  
 
PS - We purchased our first Benalla home at auction in January 1974. The mortgage would have been $12,000 less ...  If only I’d (we)---
​