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The holiday to Victoria in the 1980s was probably our biggest family holiday as
kids. Dad rented a fold down caravan which we towed behind us, and we stayed in
that on our journeys. We stayed at places like Creswick caravan park, and visited the Dinosaur
park there, and some other places as well. Bendigo was visited as well as Ballarat, were we went to Sovereign Hill, the old Gold Mines. Dad did all the driving in those days (mum never got a license) and Dad would always sit in the
driver's seat with mum
nearly every time in the seat alongside him. In latter years there may have been some minor exceptions to this rule, but none that I can recall from memory. Dad always took care of the oil for the car and I remember often him testing the oil level for
the car in his mechanics of taking care of the car. He probably did this a lot on our Victorian holiday, and one thing we did a lot on such trips was play a lot of cards. Dad liked Euchre, but mum liked Rummy. As little kids we played snap and fish a lot,
but moved on from that in later years. Like the Milton trips in the holiday home we stayed in, we were very together as a family, and lived in each other's
company constantly. Nothing escaped mum's notice, and she always ensured we had
clean clothing
and looked our best. The number of times she probably combed my hair when I was
young would have been numerous. Dad himself was not an overly affectionate father when it came right down to it. He was in his very old age, a very kind and loving old man,
who was probably doing his very best then to show proper love to his family. But mostly growing up he was a caring and thoughtful father, perhaps a little distant from the kids as they grew, but always responsible with them. I was a lot closer to my
mother Mary in those years, and always have been closest to my mum of all people, generally, and Dad and I didn't talk a huge amount over my life, but when I was quite young he was definitely daddy who took care of us all. In the latter teens, though, I
would hardly have cared very much, more concentrating on my gang friends from the arcade. In the early years in Canberra in the 1990s I probably talked to dad a little bit more about things, but I was mostly in my own world in those days, lost in
depression and heavy metal, and didn't really have time for anyone really. But Dad would take me places, and he helped me out when I needed to go to job interviews and things by driving me there. I remember specifically a telemarketers job in Fyshwick he
took me for, though I didn't really bother to try and get the job properly, mainly a requirement fulfilled on my job diary to get my next payment from social security, because I really wanted to just go to CIT in a few months from
then anyway, and was
just bullshitting about looking for work. I would simply ring up those ads which had jobs with phone numbers, ask if they had filled them, which they usually had, and asked them to take my details, so that I could put that on my job diary. Really, though,
I just wanted to study at CIT, so didn't care at that stage. But If I had ever
been offered a job I would have taken it – it just never happened because I had no real experience or qualifications. For those years in the early 90s I only talked to Dad,
and ignored mum completely for 5 years, not talking to her at all except once on the phone when I had to, because I was ringing to get dad to pick me up from
southside TAFE. I don't really recall much of what I probably talked to dad about in those days.
He was in retirement, and spent most of the time at home with mum, probably watching a lot of TV and just pottering around the house. Though the Parkinsons
sort of came in around then some time, and things were starting to be noticed on shakings and
things. In the mid 90s, after my crisis, I disappeared off to various group houses and flats of my own for about 4 to 5 years, and I didn't visit home a huge amount in those years. But I did drop in from time to time, and occasionally stayed there in
between moves and things. I was taught judgementalism of Catholicism by many of
the Pentecostals I ran with at the time, which went to my head a bit, but later
on in Noahidism all that nonsense gradually died away. It was nothing but protestant hype and
winging as far as I am concerned, and did not relate to the real world and the actual way catholics did in fact live their life. Just bullshit from pride-filled biblical zealots who really thought their biblical devotions and works made them something
special. A load of cobblers as far as I am concerned now, but I do give them a break because they are studious of the bible and do maintain good moral standards as people, even though irrationally judgemental. My friends Chris White and Paul Saberton are
still pumped up on that hype, and I don't really rebuke them on it, as they just argue biblically ideas from revelation and, from experience, I am just wasting my breath to differ with them anyway. They don't really care about the facts of the situation,
and follow 'Two Babylons' ideas of Hyslop wether he proved his case or not. But
Chris and Paul are kind and loving people, just stuffed up with biblical zealotry as far as I am concerned. In many ways Paul is very grounded, but he needs to live in the
real world for a time. Dad, on the other hand, lived in the real world his whole life, as did mum, and had a far more universal approach and understanding
on life, much akin to the way Catholicism which means universal, likes to operate. I had a good
grounding growing up, got into pentecostalism and saw the point some of them were driving at with various passages of scripture, but they push it to the extreme, and are not really in touch that much with the real world, nor try to be. The Devil's
playground as far as many of the zealot pentecostals are concerned. God love em. Someone has to. Dad never really spoke to me about protestant christians, although Luther was mentioned a little bit as well as King Henry starting the Anglican church, but
Mum and Dad didn't really say much about the other churches or worry about them
much, although mum did say to me occasionally that if she hadn't been a catholic she would have been in the Salvation Army. Perhaps that says a lot. I found out, from
conversations later, that dad did know passages in his bible well enough, and knew some standard catholic interpretations of some passages on philippians I was discussing with him one time in his old frailty. He knew how to answer as well according to
his faith and saw his point, though I still disagree with his earthly views (whatever he believes now I don't know, because I hope he is in heaven) that the New Testament or the early church ever taught the Trinity. But obviously the Father, Son and Holy
Spirit is what Cyril Daly solidly believed in all his life most likely. Parents
and children don't always agree, but they should always love each other, and I think we managed that well enough when all is said and done.

In the Macarthur years dad became gradually older and older and, by the time I was finally starting to grow up and learn about people and loving them and respecting them, he had become a very old man, beset with Parkinson's, who was sometimes difficult
to communicate with properly. Oh, we talked from time to time over the years, but in some ways I never really got the opportunity to know him well enough, which is possibly because of the big distance in age between us. Yet I have always respected my
father, and really do miss him a lot. I continue to pray for him quite regularly now, as I do for others of my family in heaven. I hope to meet them when this earthly life of mine passes, and catch up a lot and really have a good old yarn with the old
man about life and everything 'Daly'. Really, everyone has the best dad in the world, but mine is VERY suitable for Daniel Daly, and I would never consider trading him, nor my mum either. I admire them and respect them, and while we may have different
faiths, I know they take God very seriously. I am proud of my parents. I love them both, very deeply, and need them forever in my life, and pray to God they will always be there.

Dad had tools in his tool boxes and out in the carport shed we have 2 metal cabinets full of odds and ends and things. Dad was no great organizer of things, but neither was he disorganized. Mostly a regular type of guy who would
usually put things back
in their right place, and with things like drill bits and pieces he would never
leave them out but ensure they were packed away responsibly, like he did for all his tools. It's just that on the shelves were he put things they wouldn't necessarily always
go into the same place. But they were always packed away appropriately. We still have as of today lots of wires and cables and all his tools and things, all out in the carport, and since by brother Matthew passed on last year, that stuff is basically
left to me and perhaps Greg, who I doubt will be terribly fussed over it. But there are a lot of memories in those old things, and some times I sit out in the carport, even now in winter, just to be out of the house and feeling busy, even if I am just
sitting there. All things considered, dad was an all round sort of a guy, with a blokey sort of aspect to him, but also a very academic one also. His work reflected that, being a technician for Telecom. His mind, like my brother Gregory's, was very
mathematical and scientifice and while I myself have abilities in these areas, I am clearly stronger on things like Literature and Religion than Gregory, while he is stronger on Economics and Maths and Science, and we have about the same talent at music.
It's not that we don't have the others strengths, its just that we don't pursue
them a great deal. For example, Greg has written some fiction, but doesn't pursue it. Like I have said, it's like each of the 3 of Cyril's boys got a different share of his
own qualities. Remembering back to Cooma years, I can't see Dad in my head a huge amount, but he was doing things often like mowing the lawn and having cups
of tea with mum and guests and driving us to church and things. He watched TV regularly with the
family, and we as a family watched a lot of Friday night and Saturday night movies together back in the 80s. In Canberra years, in his retirement, TV was a
strong reality of his life. He did read books, and we have a family library full of various tomes,
and he would often be looking at a book on Ireland or some such subject, and then he would be getting fed his dinner for, with his ongoing parkinsons problems, he faded away gradually with older age. He would laugh at the simpsons, in which he
appreciated the sarcasm, but he had limits in what he thought was appropriate TV. Strangely, when I probably should have talked to him the most, coming into my 20s, I was living out of home in pentecostal group houses, and, by the time I should have been
getting to know my dad, it seemed he had become too old, and too frail, and the
mind, while it was there, couldn't get past the body so easily. We didn't have any great intellectual conversations in our life, as we didn't talk on any great subjects at
all hardly, but there was an odd chat about religion later on, when I was Pentecostal. I am now wise enough to know that it didn't really matter who was right and wrong on that issue, as Dad kept Catholic faith perfectly well as any
Pentecostal kept
biblical faith. Dad went to church every sunday, but I never really saw him reading the bible as such. It wasn't his thing. Instead it was sunday missals and newsletters and booklets on catholicism, rather than a great scriptural devotion although I do
know that he had read the thing. Later on, as he got frail, he still insisted on trying to confess his sins to a priest, and mum got a priest around from time to time, and he confessed, but she said to him he was so old and that God didn't need to hear
them. She was probably right for the old man. The wheelchair was the main thing
for his older age, and we pushed him all over the place and around various places on outings here and there, especially down to Cooma and Chakola and places like that. Dad
was merciful man, and he had great love for his children's wellbeing. I know he
hoped that Matt would get married one day, for I remember him reflecting on some of my words on the subject, and I bought my brother a ring recently, and sacrificed it to
heaven, like I did for 3 of my uncles, just in case they need them, you know. For I have heard you might just need to own a ring if you want to propose later
on in the heavenlies, and they are not that easy to come by. Dad loved us all, and prayed for us
regularly, and I continue to pray for all members of the family also, using psalms especially, for all of us, praying regularly throughout the year for all
the members of our family and extended family and friends also. I really do miss dad quite a lot
now, and really look forward to seeing him again when I pass on one day. He was
the foundation of my life, and his example on decency and responsibility will always be part of my cherished memories for my old man. I guess, if I was asked
to describe my
dad in 1 word, I would use the word 'quiet' to describe Cyril Aloysius Daly. He
was certainly conservative and faithful and loving and kind, and a lot of other
virtues as well, but he was more than anything else 'Gentle' and above that 'Quiet'. He was
not a ruffian of a man, had a calm demeanour, the quiet type of guy, who worked
carefully and with fidelity to get the job done, and didn't spend an eternity bragging about it later. He was a wonderful old fella.


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