Father Chris Riley, founder of charity Youth Off The Streets, dies aged 70
Riley was born in Echuca, Victoria in 1954, and was ordained as a Catholic priest in 1982. He later relocated to Sydney, where he established Youth Off The Streets in 1991.
The charity began with a single food van providing meals to young people experiencing homelessness in Sydney's King's Cross, later expanding to provide crisis accommodation, counselling and education support services to young people aged 12 to 24 across NSW and Queensland.
Riley served as the organisation's chief executive for almost three decades before moving onto the board as founder and executive director in 2020. He stepped down from this role in 2022 due to illness, which the Herald first reported in 2021.
Riley, who joined the Salesian religious order straight from school, was inspired by the 1938 movie Boys Town, based loosely on the work of Father Edward Flanagan.
He decided at the age of 14 that he wanted to work with homeless young people. After graduating as a teacher and taking his vows, Riley worked for two years with the Boys' Town charity in Sydney, then studied for a theology degree at the Melbourne College of Divinity.
Riley told the Herald in 2012 that the four years of full-time study did not suit him. 'I found it really difficult to live in a non-working religious community, so I started to experiment,' he said.
In a statement posted to the charity's website on Friday, Youth Off The Streets chief executive Judy Barraclough said Riley's work to support young Australians in need had left a 'powerful legacy'.
'His vision, drive and determination will continue to inspire our organisation as we strive to provide growing numbers of disadvantaged children and young people with safety, support and education for a better future,' she said.
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The Advertiser
17 hours ago
- The Advertiser
'Sad but grateful': Sisters of St Joseph bid goodbye to last Hunter convent
In a building made for a small community, Sister Brigid Linehan lived all alone. Settling into the new Charlestown convent in 1969, she lived with six others from the Sisters of St Joseph Lochinvar. More than 50 years on, the rooms are quiet, and Ms Linehan felt it was time to move on. "There's a bit of grieving, but I grieve with gratitude," she said. After 98 years in the Charlestown Catholic parish, the Sisters have decided to close their nearby convent on Saturday, August 9. It was their last remaining convent in the Hunter, leader Patricia McCarthy said. She believed that it was most likely the last religious living parish convent in the region, across other groups of sisters as well. "We just don't have any sisters to live there, we are an ageing congregation," Ms McCarthy said. The Lochinvar Josephites' numbers have dwindled since their establishment in 1883, with only 50 sisters left, 14 of whom are in care, Ms McCarthy said. The group had looked after 50 parish primary schools and ten secondary schools throughout the Diocese of Maitland-Newcastle and beyond. The sisters made a choice many years ago that they would no longer accept anybody else into their congregation. "It just wasn't fair to do that to younger people," she said. "It's sad, but we're grateful for what we've been able to do, grateful for the wonderful friendships with people in Charlestown for about 100 years." A spokesperson for the Catholic Parish of MacKillop, which oversees the Charlestown church and convent, said they had not decided what to with the empty building or land yet. The Charlestown parish and the affiliated St Joseph's Primary School were established in 1927, with a weatherboard convent built next door. Ms Linehan joined the Sisters when she was 18 years old, more than 60 years ago. "I've had a couple of stints at the Charlestown convent. I first came here in 1969 when we were in the schools," she said. At the time, the newly erected convent seemed "state of the art", she said. "Our lives were structured, we had time for prayer, we all taught in the schools that taught music, we lived a community life," she said. "It was simple." After travelling to other parishes such as Cessnock, Wingham and Krambach, Ms Lineham returned to Charlestown in 2015. But life had changed. When she first moved in, there was six sisters living there. A decade ago, only two were left. For the past two or three years, it has been only her. "I think this is just what's happening to us at the moment, all the other convents have closed down and the sisters have moved out," she said. "We had a good bond together, we supported one another, and we were very much a part of the people." In her recent time with the Catholic Parish of MacKillop in Charlestown, Ms Linehan helped in community support groups, attended liturgy meetings and took holy communion to the sick. Similar to other Lochinvar Josphites, Ms Linehan had moved out of the convent into a unit in Mayfield, owned by the group. She was now living next to a number of other sisters in the same block. "I think as we're getting older, I think the emphasis now is more on the care of one another," she said. In a building made for a small community, Sister Brigid Linehan lived all alone. Settling into the new Charlestown convent in 1969, she lived with six others from the Sisters of St Joseph Lochinvar. More than 50 years on, the rooms are quiet, and Ms Linehan felt it was time to move on. "There's a bit of grieving, but I grieve with gratitude," she said. After 98 years in the Charlestown Catholic parish, the Sisters have decided to close their nearby convent on Saturday, August 9. It was their last remaining convent in the Hunter, leader Patricia McCarthy said. She believed that it was most likely the last religious living parish convent in the region, across other groups of sisters as well. "We just don't have any sisters to live there, we are an ageing congregation," Ms McCarthy said. The Lochinvar Josephites' numbers have dwindled since their establishment in 1883, with only 50 sisters left, 14 of whom are in care, Ms McCarthy said. The group had looked after 50 parish primary schools and ten secondary schools throughout the Diocese of Maitland-Newcastle and beyond. The sisters made a choice many years ago that they would no longer accept anybody else into their congregation. "It just wasn't fair to do that to younger people," she said. "It's sad, but we're grateful for what we've been able to do, grateful for the wonderful friendships with people in Charlestown for about 100 years." A spokesperson for the Catholic Parish of MacKillop, which oversees the Charlestown church and convent, said they had not decided what to with the empty building or land yet. The Charlestown parish and the affiliated St Joseph's Primary School were established in 1927, with a weatherboard convent built next door. Ms Linehan joined the Sisters when she was 18 years old, more than 60 years ago. "I've had a couple of stints at the Charlestown convent. I first came here in 1969 when we were in the schools," she said. At the time, the newly erected convent seemed "state of the art", she said. "Our lives were structured, we had time for prayer, we all taught in the schools that taught music, we lived a community life," she said. "It was simple." After travelling to other parishes such as Cessnock, Wingham and Krambach, Ms Lineham returned to Charlestown in 2015. But life had changed. When she first moved in, there was six sisters living there. A decade ago, only two were left. For the past two or three years, it has been only her. "I think this is just what's happening to us at the moment, all the other convents have closed down and the sisters have moved out," she said. "We had a good bond together, we supported one another, and we were very much a part of the people." In her recent time with the Catholic Parish of MacKillop in Charlestown, Ms Linehan helped in community support groups, attended liturgy meetings and took holy communion to the sick. Similar to other Lochinvar Josphites, Ms Linehan had moved out of the convent into a unit in Mayfield, owned by the group. She was now living next to a number of other sisters in the same block. "I think as we're getting older, I think the emphasis now is more on the care of one another," she said. In a building made for a small community, Sister Brigid Linehan lived all alone. Settling into the new Charlestown convent in 1969, she lived with six others from the Sisters of St Joseph Lochinvar. More than 50 years on, the rooms are quiet, and Ms Linehan felt it was time to move on. "There's a bit of grieving, but I grieve with gratitude," she said. After 98 years in the Charlestown Catholic parish, the Sisters have decided to close their nearby convent on Saturday, August 9. It was their last remaining convent in the Hunter, leader Patricia McCarthy said. She believed that it was most likely the last religious living parish convent in the region, across other groups of sisters as well. "We just don't have any sisters to live there, we are an ageing congregation," Ms McCarthy said. The Lochinvar Josephites' numbers have dwindled since their establishment in 1883, with only 50 sisters left, 14 of whom are in care, Ms McCarthy said. The group had looked after 50 parish primary schools and ten secondary schools throughout the Diocese of Maitland-Newcastle and beyond. The sisters made a choice many years ago that they would no longer accept anybody else into their congregation. "It just wasn't fair to do that to younger people," she said. "It's sad, but we're grateful for what we've been able to do, grateful for the wonderful friendships with people in Charlestown for about 100 years." A spokesperson for the Catholic Parish of MacKillop, which oversees the Charlestown church and convent, said they had not decided what to with the empty building or land yet. The Charlestown parish and the affiliated St Joseph's Primary School were established in 1927, with a weatherboard convent built next door. Ms Linehan joined the Sisters when she was 18 years old, more than 60 years ago. "I've had a couple of stints at the Charlestown convent. I first came here in 1969 when we were in the schools," she said. At the time, the newly erected convent seemed "state of the art", she said. "Our lives were structured, we had time for prayer, we all taught in the schools that taught music, we lived a community life," she said. "It was simple." After travelling to other parishes such as Cessnock, Wingham and Krambach, Ms Lineham returned to Charlestown in 2015. But life had changed. When she first moved in, there was six sisters living there. A decade ago, only two were left. For the past two or three years, it has been only her. "I think this is just what's happening to us at the moment, all the other convents have closed down and the sisters have moved out," she said. "We had a good bond together, we supported one another, and we were very much a part of the people." In her recent time with the Catholic Parish of MacKillop in Charlestown, Ms Linehan helped in community support groups, attended liturgy meetings and took holy communion to the sick. Similar to other Lochinvar Josphites, Ms Linehan had moved out of the convent into a unit in Mayfield, owned by the group. She was now living next to a number of other sisters in the same block. "I think as we're getting older, I think the emphasis now is more on the care of one another," she said. In a building made for a small community, Sister Brigid Linehan lived all alone. Settling into the new Charlestown convent in 1969, she lived with six others from the Sisters of St Joseph Lochinvar. More than 50 years on, the rooms are quiet, and Ms Linehan felt it was time to move on. "There's a bit of grieving, but I grieve with gratitude," she said. After 98 years in the Charlestown Catholic parish, the Sisters have decided to close their nearby convent on Saturday, August 9. It was their last remaining convent in the Hunter, leader Patricia McCarthy said. She believed that it was most likely the last religious living parish convent in the region, across other groups of sisters as well. "We just don't have any sisters to live there, we are an ageing congregation," Ms McCarthy said. The Lochinvar Josephites' numbers have dwindled since their establishment in 1883, with only 50 sisters left, 14 of whom are in care, Ms McCarthy said. The group had looked after 50 parish primary schools and ten secondary schools throughout the Diocese of Maitland-Newcastle and beyond. The sisters made a choice many years ago that they would no longer accept anybody else into their congregation. "It just wasn't fair to do that to younger people," she said. "It's sad, but we're grateful for what we've been able to do, grateful for the wonderful friendships with people in Charlestown for about 100 years." A spokesperson for the Catholic Parish of MacKillop, which oversees the Charlestown church and convent, said they had not decided what to with the empty building or land yet. The Charlestown parish and the affiliated St Joseph's Primary School were established in 1927, with a weatherboard convent built next door. Ms Linehan joined the Sisters when she was 18 years old, more than 60 years ago. "I've had a couple of stints at the Charlestown convent. I first came here in 1969 when we were in the schools," she said. At the time, the newly erected convent seemed "state of the art", she said. "Our lives were structured, we had time for prayer, we all taught in the schools that taught music, we lived a community life," she said. "It was simple." After travelling to other parishes such as Cessnock, Wingham and Krambach, Ms Lineham returned to Charlestown in 2015. But life had changed. When she first moved in, there was six sisters living there. A decade ago, only two were left. For the past two or three years, it has been only her. "I think this is just what's happening to us at the moment, all the other convents have closed down and the sisters have moved out," she said. "We had a good bond together, we supported one another, and we were very much a part of the people." In her recent time with the Catholic Parish of MacKillop in Charlestown, Ms Linehan helped in community support groups, attended liturgy meetings and took holy communion to the sick. Similar to other Lochinvar Josphites, Ms Linehan had moved out of the convent into a unit in Mayfield, owned by the group. She was now living next to a number of other sisters in the same block. "I think as we're getting older, I think the emphasis now is more on the care of one another," she said.
Perth Now
a day ago
- Perth Now
Gross act costing Aussies $27m a year
Slow-draining toilets and strange gurgling sounds might signal an expensive blockage waiting to strike under your home. Wastewater blockages happen when foreign materials clog sewer systems, often caused by everyday Aussies flushing the wrong items down their toilets. Sydney Water reports that non-flushable wet wipes account for 75 per cent of wastewater blockages in its service area. In NSW alone, the utility can spend up to $27 million a year clearing blockages. Despite this, countless Australians continue to flush 'unflushables,' often unaware of the damage it can cause. Non-flushable material like this can cause costly blockages in our wastewater networks. (Supplied/Sydney Water) Credit: Supplied Sydney Water's principal environment manager Ben Armstrong told that people still believe they can flush earbuds, dental floss and hair. 'But wet wipes are the big one,' Mr Armstrong said. Most wet wipes do not meet the Flushable Products Standard, which sets strict criteria for what can be safely flushed. Products that comply must pass six rigorous tests and are marked with a specific logo or a note that they 'comply with AS/NZS 5328:2022' on packaging. However, Mr Armstrong warns that even wipes marked as flushable can still cause problems. 'Even though they are flushable, it's still material that we will need to remove down the track, at the end of the pipe, so to speak,' he said. To avoid costly and unpleasant blockages, it is best not to flush any wet wipes, flushable or not.' Common signs of a blockage include sinks, baths or toilets emptying slowly, toilets not flushing or overflowing, gurgling noises from drains or toilets, and wastewater overflowing near outdoor taps. If a blockage occurs on private property, it can cause wastewater to overflow inside the home and cost thousands of dollars to clear, expenses borne by the resident, not the water utility. 'Getting a plumber there to unblock that, then the clean-up costs and that kind of stuff, it can add up very quickly,' Mr Armstrong said. 'It's cheaper to stop it from the source than trying to clean it up at the end of the pipe.' He urges all Australians to prevent blockages by only flushing the 'three Ps' - pee, poo, and (toilet) paper. Footage reveals what happens if you flush the wrong thing down the toilet. picture: 9 News Credit: Channel 9 Following this advice not only reduces the risk of a costly plumber visit but also lessens the strain on water utilities nationwide. Cutting down on non-flushable items like wet wipes going down toilets could reduce the number of blockages that need clearing from wastewater systems, saving millions in repair costs. 'That's a lot of money that we'd rather put into other things like saving water, water leaks, and upgrading our wastewater treatment systems to actually lessen the impact on the environment,' Mr Armstrong said. He also cautioned against putting inappropriate materials down household or public drains, including fats, oils, and grease, which can combine with non-flushable waste to form fatbergs.
ABC News
2 days ago
- ABC News
Australia's divorce rate is the lowest it has been in 50 years. Why?
At first glance, it might seem like good news: divorces in Australia have dropped to their lowest rate since no-fault divorce was introduced. And on average, marriages are lasting longer. Latest data show 2.1 divorces registered for every 1,000 Australians aged 16 and over in 2024. But while greater longevity of marriages has been heralded as a sign of more successful relationships, the reality is far more nuanced. Australians are marrying and divorcing less and having fewer children amid increasing economic insecurity. It's emblematic of deep and complex social change. Divorce in Australia has changed significantly since the 1975 reform that removed the requirements to show fault. That is, couples could now go their separate ways without having to explain themselves. For 20 years before no-fault divorce, marriage dissolution was reported by court-decreed fault and included among official crime statistics. Included among the more than a dozen grounds for divorce were adultery, drunkenness and non-consummation. When Australians divorce now, they're older — 47 years for men and 44 for women — reflecting increasing age when marrying and longer duration in marriage. Marriages are typically lasting just over eight months more to separation and nearly 11 months longer to divorce than in 2019, the year before the COVID pandemic started. Such an increase points to a swift and sharp change likely brought on during, and since, the pandemic. But this doesn't mean we're getting better at navigating relationships — rather, Australians are remaining longer in marriages due to economics. Cohabiting before marriage is also increasingly common, enabling relationship testing. Most Australians believe marriage isn't necessarily a lifelong thing, reflecting widespread acceptance of divorce. But marriage remains an important aspect of our lives. Marriage remains a major part of Australian society, with most Australians marrying at some point in their lives. Marriage equality, enshrined in law in 2017, reflects the enduring relevance of formal marriage. But there have been some changes. Religion no longer dominates marriage, with most weddings officiated by celebrants. This trend has continued since the late 1990s. In 2023, more than 83 per cent of marriages were conducted by civil celebrants, not a religious minister. Latest figures show marriages have steadied since the COVID slump and rebound, with Australians marrying less on average now than before the pandemic. Overall, the rate of marriage has more than halved since 1971, dropping from 13 marriages per 1,000 people aged 16 years and over to 5.5 in 2024. Marriage rates are now well down from the peak set during Australia's post-war baby boom, where increased and younger coupling drove record birth rates in the 1960s. While most children are born to married parents, the proportion has changed substantially over the years. In 1971, 91 per cent of births were to married parents, declining to 60 per cent in 2023. Choice is generally increasing when it comes to relationships, but also becoming more constrained on the family front. The choice to not be in a relationship is increasing. Whereas in the face of socioeconomic challenges, choices around building a family are more limited. Many Australians now won't achieve their desired family size because the barriers to having a much-wanted child, or subsequent child, are insurmountable. Financial and social costs of raising a child while juggling housing affordability, economic insecurity, gender inequality and climate change are just too high. The proportion of women without children over their lifetime nearly doubled from 8.5 per cent in 1981 to 16.4 per cent in 2021. On average, Australians are having fewer children than ever, with the total fertility rate at a record low of 1.5 births per woman. Changing expectations and norms concerning coupling and childbearing have enabled greater empowerment for Australians to choose whether they marry at all. Women especially benefit from more progressive attitudes towards remaining single and childfree. Costs associated with a divorce can be high, with a "cheap" marriage dissolution starting upwards of $10,000. Couples have become creative in navigating marriage break-ups during a cost-of-living crisis. Where children are present – 47 per cent of divorced couple families — parents are looking to new ways to minimise adverse social and economic consequences. "Birdnesting", where kids remain in the family home as parents rotate in and out according to care arrangements, is one such solution. Novel child-centred approaches to family separation are most successful where relationship break-ups are amicable. Around 70 per cent of separations and divorces involving children are negotiated among parents themselves. Ever-increasing numbers of Australians are living apart together (known as LATs), where they are a couple but live separately. This is particularly common among parents raising children. It's a novel solution for parents who don't want the headache of having a new partner move in with them post-divorce. Rising housing costs and widening economic insecurity mean separation may not even be an option, especially where children are involved. Research shows soaring house prices can keep people in marriages they might otherwise leave. Living under the same roof and raising children while separated is increasingly a response to financial pressures. Where relationships involve financial dependence and high conflict, such arrangements are forcing families into potentially highly volatile circumstances. Families are changing and diversifying, and policy must reflect this. Cost-of-living pressures are increasingly denying couples much-wanted families and making it more difficult for families to thrive, divorced or not. This piece first appeared on The Conversation. Liz Allen is a demographer at the POLIS Centre for Social Policy Research at the Australian National University.
