‘That’s what my mum and dad felt about me’: What I learned when I asked Dad about the boy he once was

FATHER’S DAY REFLECTIONS: PART 1 

The first time my dad truly understood how much his parents loved him was the day I was born.

“I still well up when I remember looking at you for the first time and feeling so much love,” Dad said. “Then realising that’s what my mum and dad felt about me. Unconditional love.”

I had never heard him explain that moment before.

We often know our parents through the life we have shared with them, without thinking to ask who they were before we arrived. Inspired by Your Story, Dad, a guided keepsake journal published by Penguin, this four-part series on the next few days asks four fathers to share the childhood memories, choices and lessons they want their families to know.
Full disclosure: I began with my own dad.

Brian Crisp, 64, grew up in Albion Park on the NSW South Coast and now lives at Hope Island in Queensland. He is married to Ali, has three daughters from his first marriage to my mum, Carolyn, and, at last count, six grandchildren.

When I asked Dad what his childhood was like, there was no tale of hardship waiting to be uncovered. He described it simply as “idyllic”.

His parents made sure their two sons had every opportunity available to them, without making a fuss about what they were providing.

Dad’s father remains the man he most wanted to emulate.

“If I could be 50 per cent of the man he was, I’d be thrilled,” he said. “He was the happiest bloke on earth.”

My grandfather worked long days in the coal mine, then came home, played Johnny Cash on the record player and made pancakes for supper.

“He had a hard life growing up, but he made sure we had everything we ever needed,” Dad said.

His mother was equally devoted to her sons. If they got into trouble, she defended them in front of others before dealing with the situation at home.

“Mum, in particular, always had our backs,” Dad said. “She would stick up for us publicly in any situation and caution us wisely at home in private.”

Dad also had an older brother to look up to, although some of the stories suggest he needed to be wary of him too.

After the boys watched Dracula on a black and white television, Dad woke during the night to find his brother biting him on the neck.

“I didn’t laugh then. I almost shit myself, but looking back, that’s exactly the kind of brother he was,” he said.

On another occasion, his brother convinced him he had been adopted and was really the child of the German tennis coach in town.

“Looking back, I can see why everyone thought it was hilarious when I demanded Mum tell me the truth,” Dad said.

As a boy, Dad planned to play cricket for Australia. Poor eyesight and what he describes as “limited ability” eventually put an end to that ambition.

A more accurate clue to his future arrived on his 11th birthday, when he received a typewriter.

Born on December 28, Dad cannot remember having a birthday party until he turned 21 because his birthday was caught between Christmas and New Year.

“Maybe that’s why I’ve never been fussed about birthdays,” he said. “I do remember getting a typewriter for my birthday when I was 11. Perhaps that’s why I ended up in journalism.”

Apart from four weeks working at NAB after leaving school, Dad has spent his career as a journalist. His father and brother were coal miners and never entirely understood that someone could be paid to tell stories.

He would eventually edit a newspaper for Rupert Murdoch, achieving, in his words, success “way beyond my expectations”.

One teacher who influenced the way he approached life and work was John O’Brien at Edmund Rice College in Wollongong.

“He taught me the value of thinking outside the box,” Dad said.

Mr O’Brien also introduced his students to the music of Boz Scaggs. During the late 1970s, students sometimes visited their teachers’ homes after school, where Mr O’Brien would play music and talk to them about life.

“It was a different time,” Dad said.

The typewriter he received at 11 led to a career built around words, but storytelling also became part of the way he connected with my sisters and me.

“Reading books is where I do my best work,” Dad said. “I obviously no longer read them to my kids, but I love reading to the grandkids. Telling stories. Hopefully inspiring them to think differently, to ask questions and listen to the answers.”

The audience has changed over the years, but the typewriter, the journalism career and the books he now reads to his grandchildren all belong to the same part of him.

When I asked how his childhood shaped the father he became, Dad returned to the way his parents allowed him to find his own path.

“I think Mum and Dad never told me what to do, and I hope that’s something I’ve done,” he said.

“You can guide, you can suggest, but you should never tell your children what to do. It is their life, and they have the right to live it as they wish. What you can do as a parent is answer the phone when they ring and be honest with them when they ask a question.”

That answer explains much about the father my sisters and I know. His advice has always been available, but our decisions have remained ours to make.

The most unexpected discovery from our conversation was that Dad once won the NSW Egg Catching Championship with his cousin Peter. ‘Sharpie’ threw the egg 80 metres and Dad caught it without breaking it. They managed the feat twice and somehow came away with first and third prizes.

“I think that was $15, which was a good prize in the 1970s,” he said.

I knew Dad loved cricket, became a journalist and thought the world of his parents. I did not know he had once been convinced he belonged to a German tennis coach or that he had understood his parents’ love for him differently from the moment he first held me.

I began by asking about the boy my dad once was. His answers helped me understand more about the son he had been, the father he became and the grandfather he is now.

Your Story, Dad is published by Penguin in hardback. RRP $26.99.

PS: Happy birthday to Nanny Grace, this story appears on what would have been her birthday if she was still with us.

Father’s Day Reflections is a special Starts at 60 four-part series as a lead up to Dad’s special day on Sunday. Stay tuned for Part 2 tomorrow.