Indelible Adventures: Always a kind word...

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One thing about my dad, he saved everything he ever ran across, and was often accompanied by one of his favorite refrains “that might come in handy one day”, then he’d smile wryly and stack his new found piece in one of his many sheds. The term hoarder is a bit strong, but probably closer to the truth than anyone in the family would care to admit.

Dad could literally fix or build anything, didn’t need any plans, instruction or a guide to help him. Somehow, and almost innately he just knew what to do and how to do it. When people bandy about the term “handy man”, my dad was the epitome of the term and whether it was plumbing, electrical, mechanical, or even building structures he was able to do it all without any guidance or help.

Not surprisingly this important “handy” gene skipped me, but got my younger brother James, and it’s with no surprise that he and Dad share many similarities, particularly around these important skills. Now, its true that since leaving home at 17, other than all of my travels I’ve resided in cities my entire life and so haven’t needed to rely too heavily on these special skills, whereas James still lives in the same country town that we grew up in and has adapted his breadth of skills into a thriving general contractor business.

Dad was always working with his hands, building, fixing or tending to something and always had a lot of projects on the go, and all of which he'd somehow finish. One of his favorite pastimes was building sheds and over the course of his life he built four large structures on our one-acre block. Let’s see, there were two garages - a double garage for his ute (pickup truck), firewood and his tools, a shed for his fishing boat, a large hothouse for his tomatoes and vegetables plants and another just for all the odds and ends he'd collected over the years.

In particular, his hothouse was a work of art in that it was both a place to grow his legendary tomato crop as well as any other vegetable that was sensitive to the weather fluctuations that Australia has to offer. In addition he also designed it to double as a drying shed for the walnuts that he harvested each year from the two very large and fruitful trees in our yard. Growing up our yard was often strewn with walnut husks, which dad would faithfully collect and dry in his shed. Now given the volume of walnuts it was impossible for one family to eat their collective body weight in walnuts each year and so dad was constantly palming off bagfuls of walnuts to anyone who'd take them.

For many years he worked on the local council doing all sorts of jobs, from fixing water main breaks, to repairing roads, slashing long grass and everything in between. He became a familiar figure around the town, but Dad was a man of few words and so kept a low profile...or so we thought.

When it came to his funeral, even though he'd lived in the town his whole life, (other than a few early years) we didn't know how many seats to put out in the hall and so conservatively we put out 25 chairs, just in case a few people came to pay their respects. We were all shocked when over 200 people descended on the hall for the service. It was standing room only as the stone hall filled to capacity before spilling out into the surrounding grounds.

And it wasn't until his wake at the local Bowls Club afterwards that I came to understand why so many people came to his funeral. Almost to a person, everyone who came up to me told me a story about dad and his big hearted generosity. Whether it was about providing them and their families with fresh fruit and vegetables from his abundant garden or providing a helping hand to someone in need, it was clear he had been a constant source of help and support to many families around the town. He didn't wait to be asked, he just had a sense of who needed something and then somehow found an excuse to drop in to say hello, and not surprisingly always seemed to leave behind something when he left...yes the dreaded walnuts, although just as often fresh fruit and veg.

Dad was never one to "big note" (another of his sayings) himself nor talk about his deeds, nope he was just the quiet country bloke who thought it was the right thing to do and just did it. He didn't tell a soul - least of all his family...

And although its been five years since he passed away there isn't a day I don't think of him and the kindness, generosity and compassion that he constantly demonstrated to all those around him, often in quiet and unsaid ways. I'd like to think that his legacy to me were his incredibly strong values, his unmatched work ethic and his empathy and compassion.

I miss you dad!

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“Hanoi Posting” A series of fictional micro-stories by Terence Wallis

Come visit "Hanoi Posting" at its new home! New episodes this week...

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This week's photos are from a photo shoot I did last week in Toronto's Kensington Market.

Enjoy!