Personal Eulogy for my Mate Don RIP

Donald Peter McCrae Gaskin Jr - Don to all - was born 17/6/51 in Aberdeen, Scotland to mother Jean  and father Donald Sr. Young brother to sisters Florrie and Eleanor. In the later fifties Don and family emigrated to Australia where they lived in Punchbowl, Sydney and Don attended Punchbowl Primary, and Boys High School. A good learner, Don was bored by curriculum, and was keen to earn a quid in the wide world. Don worked his entire career in the insurance industry, specifically as an independent factual investigator of workers compensation (and other) claims for various insurance companies. His forte was the interview and subsequent written report. Many will attest that his down-to-earth personability was the key to unlocking the truth of the matter. He developed an extensive layman's knowledge of medicine and the law during his career and was invaluable to his clients for his willingness to travel.

I came to know Don about half a century ago when I was short of a soccer game one year. A mutual friend suggested I might be able to get a game with Don's team. I played the next ten years in teams associated with Don, some serious, some social. I have never played with such an excellent footballer as Don. Close ball control was his stock in trade. Head bent over, shuffling dribble. He could walk through any three or four defenders and leave them stabbing at thin air, and he was tough, and he could shoot. He wasn't alone in those great teams. There was a certain year, or was it a small era, of Punchbowl teams that could have been a contender, not that I deserved much game time.

Don had superb hand (and foot) to eye coordination. He played rugby league a few times for his high school. He felt he acquitted himself well and could have gone on with it as a sport, if it didn't get in the way of his soccer. One time, when we were both over the hill, we were offered a trial with a Gaelic football club. We ultimately declined, as they sounded altogether all too serious for us at that stage.

The indoor cricket team brings back fond memories. I rode my bike home from a game one day, straight past the Milperra massacre site, less than an hour before the action kicked off. Speaking of bikes, Don and I shared a love of two wheelers, especially Bultacos. For us adopted Westies, summer Saturday afternoons were occupied with bush riding out in country now largely consumed by housing estates. For a while I kept two bikes so we could trailer out to a sneaky back entrance to Prospect Reservoir and treat the grounds as a private bike park. We were well matched as bike riders, although we both conceded that Don had the edge. We never fully abandoned the ambition to ride together again while Don was still up for it. Now I don't really ride any more, either.

Don trained at karate in a couple of stints, and gained a few belts before work stole his time. He had a boat on the harbour for a few years to absorb his spare change before he moved down the coast. He was an above-average golfer - certainly well above my average. Don played chess, backgammon, draughts, roulette, Monopoly, Scrabble and every card game known to man. He was a keen punter on the gallops till the day he died. He was an early adopter of electronic games. We played Pong, Space Invaders, Tetris and all the other games as they became more sophisticated. I well remember Saturday afternoons at the Sheridan, where we played Ride Across America for hours on sixty cents, much to the chagrin of other potential players who could not get a look in. Even just a few weeks ago, his joy was a round or two of World Championship Golf on the big screen in the garage with his mates and a beer in hand.

Don had some nicknames. For some time after meeting him I was confused as to whether his real name was Don or Tommy, as he was widely known at the time. Tommy was the famous rock opera by The Who. Although not deaf, dumb or blind Don WAS the Pinball Wizard - certainly the greatest I ever saw in any amusement hall. Tommy morphed over time to Tommy Gun, then on to Weapon, usually delivered with a knowing nudge and wink - go figure.

Don was an engaging personality; a raconteur who was also a superb listener. We could, and did, discuss any and everything. On occasions he provided me with advice that nobody else could have. I valued his opinion beyond all others. Don was the closest and best friend I ever had, however Don and I were not an exclusive two-man team. Don had many friends who could claim as close a relationship as I had with him. I know many of them, and they are princes amongst men, without exception. But I do not mention names here, as I could not do justice to any one individual, much less all. They know who they are.

I am drawing to a close here. Let me see. Don and I shared a love of music, live and recorded, mostly rock of some sort. We spent many nights at venues in Sydney city, North Sydney and also the Sundowner at Punchbowl when that was happening. Friday nights at the Rag and Famish was a regular and I remember parts of a notorious night at the Stagedoor Tavern to see Rose Tattoo when we made Angry Anderson angry. We loved Pink Floyd. Don loved dogs - his dogs as well as my dogs. Don instilled the love of dogs in me; for that I am eternally grateful. Angus will miss his master.

I've been blowing Don's trumpet for a while now without mentioning his greatest achievements - his marriage to Robyn, and their daughter Jean. I know their relationship is a unique love story, not to be detailed here by me. I wrote a poem for Jean when she was born - I wonder where it is now?

Stay strong Jean, your Mother needs you.

Vale Don - my Mate.

Steve Sparkes