Front row seat in rock and roll heaven

The name Noel Francis Dodds has likely never appeared in a newspaper before, or had a spotlight shone on it at all, really.

My uncle, who passed away last week at the age of 74, was not an attention seeker. Far from it, in fact. He lived a simple life, as run of the mill as it gets.

But when your nephew is a newspaper editor, you can’t avoid finally making the papers, so here we are.

Born on December 26 1950, Noel was a 21st birthday gift for my grandmother, Mary.

The pair were pretty much inseparable ever since.

After his father died in 1977, Noel would stay living at the family home in Bass Hill for the next 40-odd years – either out of obligation, circumstance or simply a love of home cooked meals. I suspect it was the latter.

He never married, and never had children. For some you’d consider this a missing piece of life’s jigsaw puzzle but it never seemed to bother Noel, who found solace in his alone time and joy from his passions, friends and family.

He moved to Penrith in March of 2015, but things didn’t quite go as planned.

Mary never made it to their new home in Jamisontown, instead entering aged care with a dementia diagnosis; the same fate that Noel would meet almost 10 years later, and that also claimed her sister, Melita.

She would pass away in January of 2016. Her other son Steve, my Dad and Noel’s beloved brother, would follow less than a year later as a result of kidney cancer.

It was not the new chapter Noel had probably envisioned but it was one he embraced the best he could.

My Dad made me promise in his final weeks that I would look after Noel, and for the last decade or so – through family dinners, Blu-Ray player instructional sessions, computer lessons and regular phone calls to talk about movies and daily goings-on – I feel I fulfilled that wish.

The last few months in particular have been challenging, but it has equally been something of an honour to assist him through his final chapter of life.
School holidays growing up were spent at my grandmother and uncle’s house.

Noel would put up with my regular intrusions into his evenings, and he got regular reminders of why staying single and not having kids wasn’t such a bad life.

My fondest memories come through the 1990s, when I’d join Noel and my Dad on weekly tips to the city each Saturday. A movie, shopping at all the record shops, lunch and then back home.

That routine between two brothers who I never once saw argue or disagree (except over who was the better singer, Elvis Presley or Cliff Richard) would last for decades.

I dropped off eventually, as most teenagers would, but those Saturday trips to the city remain some of my fondest memories.

Noel had a passion for music, particularly rock and roll.

His record and CD collection was extraordinary. From Elvis to The Beatles, Ricky Nelson, Del Shannon, The Monkees, Olivia Newton-John, The Rolling Stones… the list goes on.

He kept meticulous notes on all of them, for years written from the top of an old bunk bed he loosely labelled a desk.

He saw Elvis live in Las Vegas, one of his most cherished memories.

The number of concerts he’s seen over the years both in Australia and overseas would be impossible to count.

The passion extended into movies too, and despite my best efforts to encourage him to use his Netflix subscription, to Noel there was nothing better than sitting down to a Blu-Ray of a movie he’d probably seen a dozen times already.

A creature of habit, without doubt.

Noel certainly didn’t let his modest lifestyle impact his desire to travel.

He had a surprisingly well stamped passport, ranging from trips to the United States, China, the United Kingdom and various parts of Europe. There would be countless others, some only coming to light during the inevitable clean-out of his house recently.

Perhaps my favourite photo is of him in his joggers and jeans on the beach in Hawaii. If that doesn’t sum him up, nothing does.

He loved going to Melbourne, which as it turns out will go down as his last trip, just about a year ago.

And more than anything he loved exploring his own city. For years and years after retirement, rarely a day would go by where Noel wouldn’t venture out to somewhere in Sydney.

Indeed only recently did those trips stop. One of his last day trips was to Manly, for an ice cream and some fish and chips by the water.

There were a lot of ‘lasts’ in the past few months. Last night in his house (January 29), last movie (‘Flight Risk’), last CD listened to (Elvis, of course).

Noel Francis Dodds will be a name quickly forgotten by the world, I guess. But those of us left behind will never forget, and will forever remember the kind, gentle man he was.