Jocelyn Bowden was many things to many people, a gardener, a farmer, a Nana, a crusader against injustice.
But to me she was a musician. I’ve been making music on King Island for two decades and I made most of that music with Joc.
I had been on the island just six days when Joc called me out of the blue.
“I hear you play clarinet? Do you want to join some bands”. By the end of the week, I was in five of them.
As the Music Makers dwindled in members, we found new opportunities to regroup and play music.
From playing at Netherby Home, to Senior Citizen’s dinners, to the Imperial 20, to Christmas street markets, Joc was always the one to find reasons to spread joy through music.
As Joc’s feet began to fail her, (a side effect from the medication she was on for rheumatoid arthritis), she could no longer operate the kickers on a drum kit. This didn’t stop Joc collecting an array of percussion instruments, handing them out for audience participation at every opportunity.
When Tim Woodburn, of 40 Degrees South fame, offered to teach a ukulele group, it went without saying that Joc and I would embrace this new way to make music together.
From humble beginnings in a cold, damp artist’s space in town, we have become an all-inclusive group, encouraging anyone and everyone to pick up a uke, rattle something, or simply sing along.
We even had our 15 minutes of fame with the nationally broadcasted Ukecantbeserious song ‘Stewy Get Gold’.
But it was always Joc that collected and encouraged new members to join. Because that’s what Joc did. She found people and found ways to integrate them into our community. Once Joc found you, you became one of us.
No matter who you were, Joc found something valuable in you. People like her are the glue that hold small communities together. Joc was the very model of resilience and she epitimised the spirit of community engagement.
It was an honour to be included in her network of friendship and creativity. Vale Joc Bowden.
Jocelyn Bowden loved her music, the community and was always there.