My paternal grandfather, Parp, died just before I was born, so I never knew him. By all accounts he was a larrikin, and a storyteller, and my dad is just like him. Before he died though, my aunt convinced him to write down some of his anecdotes and experiences of life as a pioneer in the Pilbara.
My aunt was the family historian – she was the one who researched the family tree, and I think she had intentions of doing something with these recollections but time got away from her. It seems they may have sat in her office for decades, because when she passed almost two years ago my cousins found the half edited notes and decided to finish what she had started.
It’s full of Parp’s photos and remembrances, albeit some not quite politically correct now days, stories of station life, and even some stories about his father.
And so now I get to know Parp, just a little. And so do my kids.