Guestbook


Judy (Becker) Bryant 

I first met Jackie when I was finishing my doctorate at Minnesota and she was a visiting faculty member. Despite my limited contact with her at that time, I found her to be a kindred and supportive spirit. During my sabbatical year at Macquarie in 1991, she and Bob were generous, helpful hosts. Beyond what others have already said, Jackie was a huge supporter of women scholars, had a wonderful knack for gathering interesting, lively people around her, and always asked important questions that she attempted to answer in clever ways .

July 3, 2014 - 6:06 AM

Sarah Pitt 

Professor Goodnow was my absolute favourite lecturer at Macquarie Uni in the late 80′s – I have never forgotten her wisdom, patience, lovely sense of humour and sharp intellect. I could not have had a better teacher – one thing I do remember was her pithy take on Adolescent Development – ‘Early ripe, early rot’! giving one mature age student a lot of confidence!
Vale Jacqueline
from a grateful (not quite so old but getting there) former student.

July 2, 2014 - 5:41 PM

Kevin McConkey 

It was a telephone discussion with Jacqui that convinced me to come to Macquarie University in 1984, and it was largely her strong interest, guidance and support that made my time there until 1992 personally and professionally enjoyable and productive. Since then we interacted through occasional personal and electronic contact, and her interest, guidance and support continued. Three points of reflection:

1. In an early discussion about how to give a good lecture or to get a message across to an audience, Jacqui’s advice to me was to convey “three main points”, and perhaps to hang three bits of evidence or implication off each of those three; anymore was waffle that would get in the way. Jacqui was superb at understanding, synthesizing and communicating the essence, no matter what the issue or the area.
2. In another discussion, Jacqui highlighted to me (and always modelled in her own behaviour) that the person in front of you at the time is the most important person and their concerns are the most important things in the world at that moment. Jacqui brought an authentic focus to the people in front of her, and those people felt understood and valued.
3. At a dinner around the time of her formal retirement, Jacqui commented that those of us who have had the opportunity of education and the privilege of achievement have a responsibility to “pass it on” whenever we could. Jacqui was always generous in passing it on, and those she influenced will continue to do so.

Kevin McConkey

July 2, 2014 - 12:01 PM

Silvia López Larrosa 

I first met Jacqueline Goodnow in 1990. I had sent her a letter (I did not have her fax number and we did not have email addresses those days) asking if I could visit her at Macquarie. Her answer was yes. I was a doctoral student and I was thrilled that I have this opportunity. I had been following Jacqueline’s work (I know that people used to call her Jackie but she was always Jacqueline to me) and I liked the way she approached research topics: clear, deep. She was really a model to me.
I arrived few days before Christmas. She arranged for my stay at Macquarie and, once I was there, she realised that I come from a country with a catholic background. She had arranged for me to stay at the students housing with either females or males! It was not a problem but she was delicate to ask.
As I would stay alone for Christmas she invited me to her place and I met her family. I have good memories of her husband. For me, Bob was a nice person, a music lover and he was also very kind. I still remember that nice orange juice for breakfast that he made for me. After a long flight and a nice sleep, it was just the thing. He also reminded me of my grandfather who used to do the same.
Jenny Bowes also invited me those Christmas. Other colleague also took me to her home. So, I never felt alone in Australia. I had left winter in Spain and went to the Australian summer and I felt at home.
Jacqueline was wonderful: she invited me to their research meetings and also had time to discuss ideas with me in her office.
She used to bring articles she was working on at the research meetings, and Jenny Bowes, Pamela Warton, Judy Cashmore or Judy Becker, who was visiting from Florida, discussed them. There were other people at the meetings but I do not remember their names, sorry. I was too shy to say much at those meetings but I could enjoy the exchange of ideas. When I think of the research meetings with my students now, I go back to those days at Macquarie.
I visited Australia two more times. The last time I went it was 1997. Jacqueline and I went to the Opera: Cossi fan tute. I knew she loved music and I thought that it would be a good plan. And it was. I do not have memories of seeing her again.
I realise that it was long time ago. Jacqueline was certainly a very important person in my life, not just my academic life. The memory of what she said or did is still in me. She was wise and it was a privilege to meet her. So, I am simply thankful to her.

July 2, 2014 - 7:41 AM

Sarah L. Friedman 

When I think about Jacqueline Goodnow, I remember her many positive qualities. She was very easy to interact with. She was welcoming and pleasant. She was generous with constructive advice. She was well read, bringing to each exchange new information. She was creative, always bringing novel perspectives to topics that I thought I knew a lot about. She combined simplicity in conduct with intellectual brilliance. The memory of Jacqueline J Goodnow will continue to inspire me as she has over the years. In January 1971, I enrolled in the George Washington University (GWU) as a graduate student in Developmental and Experimental Psychology. I came to GWU from Cornell University to follow my husband (Moshe) who got a job in Washington D.C. Professors in Cornell recommended that I go to GWU to study with Dick Walk and J.J. Goodnow. During the less than two years that we overlapped at GWU, Jacqueline Goodnow became my unofficial mentor. I collected data in Israel to provide evidence for her ideas pertaining to a grammar of action. She included me in a publication on that topic. She encouraged me and another student, Peg Barratt Stevenson, to conduct a study about the perception of movement in drawings. The work led to a 1974 Psi Chi Research Award (national) and to a 1975 publication in the prestigious journal Child Development. Jacqueline also placed me as a student volunteer at the laboratory of Leon Yarrow at the National Institute of Child Health and Human Development. Dick Walk must have noticed my admiration for Jacqueline and asked me to write a final exam essay about her contribution to the field of Developmental Psychology. When I was a post-doctoral fellow at Marian Radke Yarrow’s Laboratory of Developmental Psychology at the National Institute of Mental Health, I twice arranged to invite Jacqueline to give talks at the lab. When my daughter, Daphne, was born, I received an aerogramme from Jacqueline congratulating me and advising me to get all the help I can with raising my daughter. It is advise that I followed. Even though we lived on different continents, Jacqueline expressed interest in my professional development and we met for breakfast at conferences of the Society for Research in Child Development. I cherished those meetings and my horizons were always expanded as a result of the conversations we had. When I edited (with Ellin Scholnick) a volume on the development of planning skills, we asked Jacqueline to write a chapter about the topic. In her characteristically creative way, she wrote about social consideration/limitations associated with planning. No one else has written before about this perspective. In 2006, when I came to Australia for a meeting of the International Society for the Study of Behavioral Development, Jacqueline invited my late husband and me for dinner at her beautiful home. When my husband passed away (in 2009), she advised that I keep working so as not to lose another identity. I am still following her advice. While Jacqueline is no longer among the living she will continue to live in the hearts and minds of many, including mine. Sarah L. Friedman

July 2, 2014 - 1:49 AM

Mary Thwaites 

This is the speech Mary gave at the family service:

We are all here to say adieu to my Big Sister Jacq. The adjective is quite inappropriate for she was always of a tiny frame, but she was by Big Sister and Frank was my Big Brother. Thus sheltered, I grew up without a care in the world – any problem ‘they’ would sort out.

I remember when my intermediate results came out. I expected to just pass, as academia was never my long suit. I seemed to realise early in life ‘they’, the top two, were an impossible act to follow. Anyway, I got 1A & 5Bs!! Frank had gotten 8As and Jacq 6As. So you can imagine my embarrassment, and my brother John kept rubbing it in. I sought privacy in the boys’ bedroom upstairs in Gowrie Street, but Jacq found me and proceeded to tell me what a great person I really was – and that academic results were but a small thing in life’s journey. She listed a number of attributes I really felt were fictitious, but I held onto them like a lifeboat and was able to hold my head high.

My reason for going nursing was to get letters after my name. A.T.W.A wasn’t quite the same as B.A. Hons, but it was something, I felt.
Jacq came quickly to my rescue when I had gone nursing. With my 1st and 2nd pay of the princely sum of 19 & 11 pence, I purchased my almost first piece of new clothing. It was definitely a ‘Look at me’ outfit; the top was wide horizontal stripes of baby pink and black alternating and a black skirt. Jacq didn’t say much but somehow the dress was miraculously exchanged for a much quieter outfit. No drama, just done!

After I married and we went to Trundle, the middle of nowhere after Bondi Junction, I used to pour my heart out to her in long letters to America. One incident I recall related to where and how one squeezed a tube of toothpaste. My attitude was as long as it landed on the brush, who cared. But, my new meticulous husband did. I mentioned this to Jacq, as an amusing anecdote. Soon after a small parcel arrived, no letter, and on opening it revealed a sort of small plastic wrench. Apparently one attached it to the end of the toothpaste and proceeded to roll the contents onto the toothbrush in an orderly fashion from the base and not all over the tube. She was my husband’s friend for life.

I don’t remember her ever raising her voice, she just worked out what was required and quickly did it.

Even when diagnosed with lupus, she decided what was best for her children first and herself second, and I think for all of us, we got the happiness of getting to know Chris and Mei Mei and Bob, and sharing our lives with them.
Jacq and myself talked about dying a lot over the last few weeks, and she was ready to go, and it’s why she chose the song to be sung at her celebration.
‘A time to be born, a time to die.’

July 1, 2014 - 6:19 PM

Helen Thwaites 

I was about 10 years old and enjoying another blissful childhood summer vacation down at the family holiday house. As always, the entire clan, with the exception of Aunty Jacqueline and Uncle Bob, were down the beach. I had come back up to the house for some reason or other and can distinctly remember Jacqueline and Bob sitting quietly in the front room reading what was probably ‘The New Yorker’.

I was on the front deck when a young kid came up from the beach asking whether he could use our toilet. At the time we had a septic system that couldn’t cope with the 30 or so residents in the house over summer, even if most of them were kids, and it was drummed into all of us the importance of not wasting water or overusing the loo. Clearly I had taken this to heart, as I knew that this kid’s, on the face of it, simple request was actually not so simple to answer. I struggled with my response for a minute and then remembered that some adults were in the house, and of course they would be able to provide the right answer. I promptly went inside and explained the situation to them. Jacqueline looked up from her reading and in a calm, measured voice said, ‘Well, Helen, I’m sure you can work out how best to deal with this, so we’ll leave it up to you to decide’.

I was, to put it mildly, ‘gobsmacked’! I couldn’t believe that an adult was letting me make a decision. This was not how the world worked. They were there to tell me what to do, not to let me make up my own mind! I went back onto the deck where this poor kid was hopping from one foot to another in his need to relieve himself and I really didn’t know what to tell him.

After a moment or two, however, the answer came to me. Our rich neighbour next door was not on a septic system and it would be no problem for him to use their toilet. I advised the boy of this and whilst he looked at me a bit strangely, as his need was becoming urgent, he promptly ran to the next-door neighbour’s house.

When I returned inside, Jacqueline again looked up from her reading and in the same calm, measured voice said, ‘That was very well handled, Helen’.

It was a seminal moment for me. I, this little kid who was part of an enormous clan of kids, had made a decision on my own and had been praised for my decision by not just any adult, but my Aunty Jacqueline. I was as proud as punch and returned to the beach a different person to the one who had left it just half an hour before.

July 1, 2014 - 5:54 PM

Susan Thwaites 

A few words for Jacqueline from her nieces and nephews:

One of the things about a large family is that it’s easy to find a character to fit a role. There’s the uncle who ruled the roost and barked orders to a bunch of sun-burnt kids in a large fibro shack near the beach, who turns out to be all bark and no bite, and when you grow up you realise he’s a sweetheart.
There’s the youngest auntie with all the energy who keeps you busy over long summers without a TV, with card games, scrabble, a new book series or a long walk on a rainy day, a torn green garbage the only protection against the elements.
There’s the mother to lots and aunty to even more who keeps the casseroles hot and the unconditional love flowing.
The uncle with vision and a painter’s eye that knows what it means to keep a family’s history documented and safe.
There are the uncles you’d like to know about, and cherish the conversations you’ve had with them over the years, or the foreigners who marry into the mob, the Irish and Americans who contribute their own flavour of characters and humour.

And then there’s someone that’s not as easy to slot.

She turns up with a tall pipe-smoking American and two children who don’t talk like us and we’re told are our cousins.
Soon the kids have adapted and are just one of the mob, but this new auntie is intriguing. She doesn’t talk much, but when she does, you find that it’s just you she’s talking to, and nobody else.
She doesn’t swim in the ocean like the rest of us, and instead stays indoors and reads. She’s pale as the rest of us grow browner every day.
Her hats are something from a 1950s Hollywood movie, exotic, large and colourful, and when the sun’s about to set, you’ll see this auntie walking the beaches of an Australia she no doubt dreamt of when she lived overseas.

As we grew up and began to have parties at her house, both with and without permission, and we drank and smoked and were stupid teenagers, you could pass this auntie on the staircase as you headed to the loo upstairs, and she’d look at you, smile a gentle, always knowing smile, and say not a word.

In that way she was terrifying. But she never told, never dobbed, never lectured, and never judged. Maybe she was writing it all down to publish later, but that side of her life was beyond our world of interest when we were young.

As young adults starting out in the world, she’d be the one who wrote our references, have suggestions about careers and courses, and seemed to know the way the world worked.

I’ve had the pleasure of spending many holidays with Jacqueline over the past 15 years at her family’s house on the south coast, and it’s been wonderful to get to know another side of this formidable intellect and successful career woman, and see the sibling she is to my mother and aunts and uncles, see the mother she is to her children, and the grandmother she is to theirs. I’ve especially seen the love in her eyes for her grandchildren, and the pride in her eyes for the achievements of those two American cousins that came here in the ‘70s and became loved and a huge part of our lives.

But mostly what I’ve noticed about her is what a number of my cousins and siblings have noticed as well, that she was one of those rare people in the world who listen, however, not just listen, she absorbed your story, filed it away in her vast memory so that the next time you met, be it in a year or five, she’d retrieve your life and ask you, specifically, how it’s all going. You were more likely to have forgotten that you said you’d do or act on something, but she wouldn’t!

The following is a few lines from some of my siblings and cousins, and my own children that they would like said about Jacqueline:

I would like to say that when I spoke with Jacqueline, she was always very present. I knew in those moments she was listening and contributing in a way that made you feel it was just you and her in the room.

Very special.
Marion Thwaites

She always remembered everything I was doing and cared.
Morgan Thomas

My son, Laurence Thomas, on driving up to Sydney for the celebration of Jacqueline’s life last Friday, lent forward and said to me, Jacqueline’s Wikipedia page is Massive! He has also spent many holidays with Jacqueline, since he was 3 years old, and told me not long after Jacqueline passed away that when he was younger he thought the real reason his great aunt couldn’t go out in the sun wasn’t because of Lupus, it was because she was a vampire. He thought that was much more interesting!

Smart, stylish, sophisticated, a global citizen, a trail-blazer for modern woman.
Ben Fitzpatrick

When Mum was very Ill with Meningitis I would have conversations with Jacqueline about feeling sad and how hard it was seeing Mum in such a vulnerable position.

To this day I don’t recall the actual words spoken between us, but will always remember how those conversations with Jacqueline, and through her love and wisdom, soothed and strengthened me. The support of this wise Auntie, who knew and loved my mother so well, gave me sustenance to carry on.
Thank you Jacqueline
Joanne Thwaites

Jacqueline the psychologist. She focused on the tangible and the real, i.e. the world as it is, not the esoteric or abstract. She lived well and spoke her truth.
James Thwaites

One thought I have is that at a conference overseas, I came across a lady who, during our long conversation, we discovered knew Jacqueline quite well, and she stated that Jacqueline had been a huge influence in her life and had mentored and convinced her to pursue academia. This woman is now the Vice Chancellor of a large regional university. I suppose the point is that we would all like to think we have made great differences to other people’s lives, but in reality only a few can actually say that with authority. Jacqueline was one of those.
Tony Fitzpatrick

It was about three years ago, the year before I turned 50, and Jacqueline was wearing this gorgeous necklace and I asked her where she got it. She told me that when she was about to turn 50, Bob asked her what she wanted, and she said she wasn’t going to tell him, that he had to think of the present himself. Well he did, and he got it right! The necklace was a Georg Jensen, and Jacqueline said to me, ‘You should buy yourself one for your 50th’. Well, I never got around to it, but when I heard that Jacqueline was unconscious I found myself in Chatswood Chase and my daughter Laura, who knew the story, pointed out a Georg Jensen shop! Well I just walked in there and told the lady behind the counter the story and I bought myself a necklace and I’m wearing it to the celebration… Oh, don’t tell Michael!
Claire Thwaites

To Mei Mei and Chris, Runar and Suzanne, Emily, Robert, Georgia, Ben and Julia, this is our tribute to the elder you have loved and cared for, and we want you to know we’re all here for you. xxx 

July 1, 2014 - 5:36 PM

Barbara Gillam 

Jacqueline Goodnow was an extraordinary person who transcended her era, which made it difficult for women to excel, by becoming an internationally distinguished and highly honoured academic, as well as making a good marriage and family. Her intellectual brilliance was apparent to all who came into contact with her but in addition she was a mentor for many, both male and female. She set an example of cool rational judgment combined with humour and well worked out values. I first knew her on the Social Science and Humanities panel of the ARC, where these qualities were of great importance. Jacqui was also very encouraging and supportive of her friends and colleagues. Recently for example I greatly valued her insights and opinions concerning my new field of applying perceptual analysis to aboriginal art, about which she knew a great deal.
Jacqui was also a pioneer in being one of the first Australian academics making a successful career abroad who chose to come home. How good for Australia and for all of us that was.

July 1, 2014 - 3:00 PM

Anna Yeatman 

I remember Jacqui from my days at Macquarie– I recall someone with rigorous intellectual engagement as well as a deep ethical commitment to the importance of us societally being intelligent about child development. She helped to nurture some great psychologists including Judy Cashmore. She was one of the Australian academy’s stars.

July 1, 2014 - 9:43 AM