Special Edition: Kevin Weldon, Reflections on Aging and The "6 Things" he wanted his grandchildren to always remember
Introduction to this Special Edition of the Maker/Home Baker Journal
I have had so many requests, from near and far for a digital version of the two booklets which dad and I worked on before his passing late last year. I have provided download links to them in this special edition of the Journal. I hope you will enjoy them as others have done or perhaps it will inspire you to create your own little booklets with your parents or grandparents. I have also included a small excerpt in celebration of Dad’s life, from my perspective as his eldest daughter .. much love Cecille
Kevin Weldon, AO
Driven by a deep love of Australia, our stories and our creative spirit, and a clear vision for what it means to be Australian.
The Sweetest Little Project - Dad’s last publishing titles
Of all the projects that Dad and I worked on over the years, the sweetest was the two little booklets we created together in the last couple of months of his life. As someone who has always “made his own luck”, it was hard for him to accept that he couldn’t return to his little hut and his beloved bi-plane at Luskintyre private airfield in the Hunter Valley. After surviving a massive heart attack at 50 he found it even more difficult to come to terms with his stage 4 multiple-cancer diagnosis – requiring him to be based in Sydney to manage his pain and related symptoms.
We committed to providing him with as rich a life as we could, at each stage. Sometimes that was just delivering something he craved or sitting on the edge of the bed and listening to his stories, or his yearning to keep going, to keep creating ,to keep seizing opportunities. The booklet idea came from one such conversation, as a way to help him “be in his biplane” in his mind, to feel that freedom he loved so dearly, without having to leave the room. After watching his love of flying from the ground and sometimes in the planes with him (from Cessna’s to seaplanes then helicopters and biplanes) ironically I knew little about what the experience was like for him from an experiential perspective. I asked him to describe, in as much detail as he could, what it was like to fly in the cockpit of his beloved Stampe – looking though his eyes. The conversation began with thoughts about aging and then need to relevance as an older Australian in the things that you can still do and the importance of ‘magic moments’ and a really memorable fly he had at sunset in is Stampe. The conversation that followed was rich and lyrical and I was able to record the poetic way his storytelling rose with the plane into the clouds, up and over.
Over the following weeks we worked on the booklet together - I gathered photos from near and far and uncovered wonderful technical and historic details about the biplane that he wasn’t aware of. He looked forward to every visit and every update.
When I handed him the printed copy and read it to him he cried – those tears that only Dad can cry – that you hardly ever saw. He said “It’s so powerful, it’s just so powerful, thank you”.
An excerpt from the book was published in the Galah Magazine Newsletter and they were inundated with responses from all over Australia of people young and old that had been impacted by his story – he was so chuffed “What a great way to go out” he said “Thinking that you’ve impacted other people with your story”.
Kevin Weldon, AO - A BIG LIFE
by cecille Weldon
The following piece is an excerpt from my speech at dads ”celebration of life”.
So much has been written about Dad’s career highlights spanning so many years and so many areas .. this piece is written more from my perspective as his eldest daughter.
I thought to myself when I was listening to him – how life had transpired to make it so.
It’s one of the many lessons we can take with us – that we can think ourselves lucky even in the hardest times – that we are indeed lucky to have known him, to have been in the trenches with him, to have raised a glass or two with him, to have sat at sunset with him, to have been hugged by him, to have held his hand, to have laughed so hard at his drinking games and stories, to have been close to him.
Kevin Weldon was the founding president of the World Lifesaving and International Life Saving Federation, and a member of the President’s Board of National Council of Surf Lifesaving Association of Australia. In 1994, he became a member of the Order of Australia for his philanthropy, contribution to water safety as president of World Life Saving, and service to the publishing industry. In 1996 his received the Lloyd O’Neill award for his lifetime contribution to Australian publishing. In 2024 he was posthumously Appointed as an Officer of the Order of Australia (AO) or distinguished service to international and national surf life saving, to publishing, to animal welfare, and to philanthropic endeavours.
Kevin was born in 1933 in the small town of Ingham in north Queensland. The family relocated to Brisbane and Kevin joined the Pacific Surf Club at Palm Beach as a Cadet, it became a second home when his mother died a couple of years later.
The comradery, leadership and sense of purpose he found there would form the foundation of his lifelong commitment to the surf lifesaving movement. More than this – it was on the Gold Coast that he later met his true love and wife of many years, the beautiful Glenda Peel (our mum) as she walked along the beach in front of the clubhouse.
Some people are born in the right age for their personality – Dad was born at the right time for his passion for Australia to rise, to find purpose and to find the right medium for the moment whether it was books or records or documentaries, new investment models, emerging technology – for our unique cleverness as Australians to be celebrated and to take its place in the world.
When he became Managing Director of the Paul Hamlyn Group he took flight and those that were with him in those early years will no doubt remember the culture he created with his leadership and his unique sixth sense for the Australian zeitgeist – he wanted to make books and records available to everyone – he wanted the Australian publishing industry to tell their own stories, to lose the shackles of the proper English way of doing things – he was wonderfully irreverent.
All the while we were there in the background – in the midst of swirling dinner parties at home, stealing mini cans of coke from bar fridge at Dee Why, running up and down the corridors to the art department, learning to always trust PAM because she got things done, packing boxes of books in the warehouse for pocket money – amazed at the pool and the natural spring - the barbeques and the test kitchen– there were dozens of records in the big chest at home and more and more books in the book shelves and book ads on TV – I’ll never forget the fishing book ad, and the balloons from Australian Square – everything was big.
Every school holidays we’d make the pilgrimage up to the Gold Coast … back to where they came from … back to Palm Beach and the squeaky sand and bare feet and salty afternoon sleeps.
I’d go way out the back with dad – catching his exhilaration for the surf, he taught me his body surfing technique – I felt like it was the key to something - his shoulders tucked under and one foot up like a rudder gliding down the wave like a torpedo.
We were taught about rips and ‘sharky’ weather about his best friend that was taken by a shark, about his swim out to get him and bring him back and we’d hear about his other mate that drowned in the surf .. about the poem he wrote that’s engraved in the front of the Pacific club. – there were always drinks with the old boys and his golf games that went till midnight – the smell of beer and salt.
We’d visit the surf club and see the gold letters on the honour board – count how many times we saw his name, we knew he was a winner and a leader but we also knew that he had a big heart, that he had known loss.
We didn’t see him much growing up but when we did and when he had the mind for it – he’d make you feel like you were the only one in the room – he’d listen attentively to everything, he’d share stories with you, teach you how to read the signs – how to see the patterns, how to find the opportunity, how to succeed, and how to pick yourself up when you didn’t– when one door closes another opens he’d say – he’d challenge you, he’d throw you in the deep end – he wanted you to give you the skills to survive in life.
I didn’t know that every young girl wasn’t brought up like this, I didn’t know or understand how my DNA meant that I was been incubated in entrepreneurial thinking. I’d had business strategy for breakfast lunch and dinner, giving-it-a-go felt second nature - and never giving up was just assumed – and in parallel to this business focus was our life with mum … speeding trips to church on Sunday and houses full of people and food and prayers. It was such a grand mismatch that somehow worked – underneath they were always Kevin and Glenda from the surf club days – great hosts – they were both always loyal to their Queensland roots, no matter how well-known they became, and everyone was always welcome at our table.