For Howard Freeman: 'Dad was an irresistible force in our lives', by son Jeremy Freeman - 2022

22 May 2022, Temple Beth Israel, St Kilda, Melbourne , Australia

Many of you were at the funeral and will have heard Rabbi Morgan’s eulogy. On behalf of mum and the rest of the family, I want to thank you Rabbi for your words and your compassion.

So, I’m not going to attempt to recount the life and times of Howard Freeman, OAM, or as he would have said, Oliver Sholom. And he would have said it just like that, as though it was two first names, often abbreviated simply to Oliver.

Dad was an irresistible force in our lives. He set the direction. He led by example. When the seas were choppy, he steadied the ship and got on with the job. Apart from that one time when we went sailing for the day and he spent the homeward journey throwing up overboard.

As you know, he was a Collins Street dentist with a reputation for fine crown and bridge work. He might have been a plumber if not for Headmaster Brigadier Langley at Melbourne High School, who saw that he was good at woodwork and recommended dentistry. When we were little kids and went into town to see him, we thought he owned the T&G building, which he told us stood for the tooth and gum building. I remember enjoying going to see him at work because he was so delighted to see us and show us around, and then clean our teeth, after which we were given a sticker. He had a roll of stickers that had a smiley-faced tooth on them and the words ‘my dentist loves me’. You couldn’t give those stickers out these days.
In those days he was very hard working, but we used to eat dinner together every weeknight. We listened to the 7 o’clock news on 3LO in complete silence while we ate, and then we talked, or mostly he did. And then after dinner if there wasn’t homework then there was TV which we watched together. Four Corners, Fawlty Towers, a movie with adult themes, the children trying to feign indifference during the racy scenes.
We went on pretty good holidays, sometimes to Queensland and often to Mount Buffalo for a week in the summer, where we went on bush walks and rock-climbing adventures with other families, most notably the Cohens and the Mushins. Dad loved Mount Buffalo and the Chalet, including the 3-course meals served on Victorian Railways crockery with proper silverware, and having smoked cod for breakfast. Later, mum and dad would go on many overseas trips including walking tours in Europe and Japan.

Dad and mum loved to entertain, and dad was a gregarious host. He and mum were part of a book group for over 40 years, and I remember book group dinner parties in Prospect Hill Road and later at Cleeve Court as being particularly raucous. Dad was a big fan of cheese fondue when that was a thing, and I think he was disappointed when it wasn’t any more.

Dad was keen on cars and fancied himself as a good driver. After his Rover 3500 fell apart on the way to Mount Buffalo one year, and after the battle with Rover over the cost of repairs, he only ever drove Mercedes Benz cars, and they seemed to get sportier over the years. He also had a knack of parking illegally without getting booked and would prefer to park illegally rather than somewhere legal a little farther away. If he could, he would leave one of us kids in the car with strict instructions not to let the parking inspector give him a ticket. You couldn’t do that these days either.

Dad was a huge fan of classical music and had a large record collection which he would whistle along to in perfect tune. He would play classical music and whistle in the car when driving, and always when our friends were in the car. He and mum would go to the MSO red series concerts and later, when they moved to the Melburnian, the Arts Centre and precinct was on their doorstep.

And as you know, dad was fascinated by history and Australian Jewish History in particular. He would often tell us about the latest aspect he was reading for or from the journal, about the life or achievements of a famous Jewish Australian, or some scandalous thing that had happened at a synagogue. And then there were the excursions that he led us on, around the city of Melbourne, holding a microphone and hauling a portable loudspeaker. Nowadays you can download a tour from the app store and explore by yourself, but it was more fun with dad and his boundless enthusiasm for teaching the history that he loved.

He was honoured to receive the Medal of the Order of Australia in 2007 for service to the Jewish community, particularly through the preservation of historical documents. And yet my memory is also of the effort he put into nominating his Historical Society colleagues and others in the Jewish community for an award, and the thrill he got when one of his nominees received one. He would sometimes hint that someone we knew might be up for a ‘gong’ in the week leading up to Australia day or the Queen’s Birthday.

I don’t recall him ever not being the President of the Australian Jewish Historical Society Victoria Inc., but I do recall him quipping that the 3 nicest words in the English language were ‘immediate past president.’ So, after 38 years that’s what he became.

Dad had a very strong Jewish identity and sense of belonging to an important community. He felt the weight of Jewish history and heritage. He fostered the same feeling in us kids, sending us to Jewish day schools and encouraging our involvement with Jewish youth movements, just as he was involved in Habonim and made many lifelong friends there.

Of course, I’m skirting around something that had a profound influence on his life and that of us all, the sudden unexpected death of Karen, an unspeakable tragedy that cast a long shadow over the life of a young family. And because he couldn’t bear to speak of it, it wasn’t discussed.

So, he threw himself into his work and filled his days with caring for others through dentistry, and with his interests and passion for music, history, art, theatre, literature, dining, travel, family, and friends.
And then years later, another setback, this time with mum developing a life-threatening illness, the treatment for which lasted years and had terrible side effects. And again, he soldiered on, trying not to think about the likely outcome, getting us to school and protecting us from his worst fears. He must have been scraping the bottom of the barrel when he made us a breakfast jaffle filled with baked beans and cottage cheese. Needless to say, there was a mutiny.

Thankfully, disaster was averted, and mum and dad were able to see their children get married and have children of their own.

It’s safe to say that dad’s greatest delights were his grandchildren. Firstly Ella, who arrived as a 61st birthday present, then Oscar, Zara and Yasmin, Alex and then Lucas. He was at first ridiculously silly with them, pulling faces, using rude words, and telling jokes. As they got slightly older, he and mum took them on excursions to the National Gallery of Victoria, walks through the Botanic Gardens, and sometimes to foreign films with subtitles they couldn’t read.

Later, he would tell them about various goings on in the community or in his historical work, with varied success. I’m pretty sure that Ella and Oscar could tell you all about the history of the Queen Victoria Market and the issue of unmarked Jewish graves at the Old Melbourne Cemetery which predated it.

In later years, dad appreciated the help of all those who cared for him just as he had done for others. He spoke highly of his doctors, and they were very fond of him. I don’t think he gave much thought to death or dying, he was too busy living.