Buddy said:
I don't remember having anyone to play ball with me, hug me or teach me about anything. I had to learn everything myself, while carrying out most of the household duties. My role models were just about any adult or peer who seemed strong, knowledgable and capable of dealing with everything, and showed me some favorable attention - compassion, caring, teaching, or anything that would make me feel valuable, wanted, important and smart.
My relationship with my father was also constrained. He was captured by the Japanese at the fall of Singapore and was in Changi prison camp for three and a half years. The experience changed him as you might imagine. I was the youngest of three children and the only boy. He was incredibly good with his hands, he built the family house and most of the furniture, he could do almost anything with wood or metal and his hobby was electronics. He used these things to isolate himself. He had a workshop and hobby room under the house (it was a Queensland house and built on 8 ft concrete stumps) and it was his habit to retire there after dinner every night and all day on the weekend. He tried teaching me woodwork once but he discovered I was not gifted in that direction, couldn't cut a straight line to save myself, and he quickly lost interest.
He was emotionally distant, severe and to me often seemed angry. I don't recall him ever hugging me or telling me he loved me. He never played with us children, ever. He didn't seem to know how to relax and he dressed semi formally if the family ever went out somewhere. I attended a Catholic boys school starting when I was 9. They were big on sport - cricket and rugby - and I think in my class I was the only child who had never played cricket, never been shown how to bat or to bowl, never handled a football. My self esteem was very low and as a consequence school was a literal hell for me.
He was also extremely judgmental. I have memories of him telling me at various times that "I was a silly little boy", "a clumsy fool" a stupid child". At one stage my first wife left me temporarily, (by this stage he had become a pentecostal) and he was very supportive. After we had reconciled, about a year later I could not take any more abuse so I left my wife and suddenly I was the worst mongrel and a sinner and going against god.
He died from hepatitis related conditions (caused during his POW experience) about 15 years ago. But when all is said and done, I have no doubt he was severely damaged as POW, and I think he did the best he could. He was not a vindictive man, just didn't seem to know any other way to be
It would be fair to say that it took me quite a while to work out that there were things that I was good at, that I excelled at