Another thing just before I go.
Mum left Reg for Ray, who she has lived with ever since. Reg moved back into his mum and dad’s house, alone, except for the ghosts of his childhood and memories of the Port in its heyday, when life was good and people didn’t hurt one another.
Even though Mum left Reg, us kids couldn’t leave him. He was our dad. But as we grew older Mum and he grew further apart until I don’t think she could stand the sight of him. I know that they only got together to save us but we had prayed that they would be happy too. I guess that was too much to hope for.
Although we stayed in touch, we didn’t see him enough. We lived in another state, so he was essentially alone and I think he might have been happier that way. I know he missed us but I don’t think he missed that pterodactyl voice telling him what to do.
Many years later, about forty or so, as he got older he became sicker and sicker until he could no longer live alone and we had to move him out of his home and into a nursing home. He didn’t want to go, but the house was falling down around him. He was a hoarder and had kept every scrap of paper and piece of junk that reminded him of the old days. He even kept scrapbooks about my career. I know he was proud of me and happy for me.
So the day came when we had to move him out of the home he was born in, the home he grew up in. As he drove to the nursing home I hope he got a final glimpse of the river where he had spent his childhood, the river he shared with me. He died peacefully in hospital, talking to ghosts he saw in his room. He told us they were all with him, waiting to take him over to the other side. Grandpa and Grandma and his Aunty Dorrie and probably that Red Indian that watched over him too. And I believe him. If anyone was going to be helped into the afterworld, it was Reg.
About six months after his death we got a notice from a lawyer in Adelaide. Reg had organised to sell his house and anything else he owned and had left his insurance money to us kids. Even in death he was there to save us. It wasn’t a lot of money but this was treasure to me. Pure unadulterated love. What a guy. What a fine example he was to me in life and in death.
I didn’t know what had happened to the piano. I thought after they split up maybe Mum had got rid of it, or burned it to spite him. But not long ago, I was visiting my youngest sister, Lisa, and there in the corner of her dining room was an old-looking piano. It was beaten up and looked the worse for wear but I recognised it immediately. It was Reg’s old piano, the one he played at home. I felt a warmth come over me. It was like seeing an old, old friend.
I asked Lisa, ‘Where did you find it?’
‘It was in a corner of Grandma’s house. I found it there after Dad died.’
I had a lump in my throat as soon as I saw it again. Lisa’s dining room looked a little crowded. She’d had to squeeze it in.
‘I couldn’t leave it there alone. The house was falling down on top of it.’
‘Do any of you play it?’ I asked and opened up the lid and played a chord. It sounded completely out of tune, just like when Dad played it. I just stood for a second, unable to talk.
Lisa must have sensed that I was nearly in tears. Out of the blue she said to me, ‘Would you like to have it, Jim? I’m sure Dad would be happy if it was getting played a bit.’
‘I would love it,’ I said quietly.
I’m having it moved to my house and then I’m going to finally take the piano lessons that he offered to give me so many years ago. And whenever I play it he will be there with me.
Mum and Ray live on the Central Coast of New South Wales. They are as happy as my mum can be. Ray’s a good man. The life Mum was dealt is not what she wanted but at least after meeting Ray she has had less heartache. Mum still moved around a lot for a while there. She has a bit of a restless spirit, we all have. She has moved in to her own house now, with Ray. Lisa and her family live upstairs and try to keep an eye out to make sure she’s okay. I haven’t heard her talk about prowlers for a long time so I hope the bastards have left her alone so she can get some peace.
She doesn’t talk about my dad at all and she doesn’t talk about Reg either. If we accidentally mention either of them in front of her the conversation abruptly stops. ‘Sorry, were you talking to me?’
It’s like that life never happened.
Like I said at the beginning of this book, I don’t blame her or Dad for anything. Life is what it is, and we all do the best with what we have. I have great memories of my dad and I try not to dwell on the bad stuff. I have fantastic memories of Mum too. I still remember that for the first years of my life, the only time I felt safe was in Mum’s arms. I try to just think about that. The rest doesn’t matter.
My mum was tough and survived a life that would have made most people throw in the towel. I like to think I got my ability to stick it through really tough times from her. She is soft and gentle too. She used to cry very easily and was always the first person who opened her door to help people, even when it meant she suffered for it. She would give away half of all she had to help anyone. I like to think that I got my generosity of spirit from her.
I look at pictures of Mum now. Everyone says I look like her. As a child I always thought she was the most beautiful person in the world. Children see people the way they really are, I think. So I was right, she is beautiful.
Dad died of emphysema in hospital in Geelong. After running all his life he had fear in his eyes as he gasped for his last breath. Life isn’t fair. He came back to see us years earlier, a long time after he left us, and we had a chance to sort through some of what happened in our lives. Not all of it, but I hope enough for him to rest in peace. He was a good man. He taught me to make the best of what you have. He didn’t want too much, just peace and quiet and to be able to sit and watch television with his dog. Dad also taught me not to brag about anything. He was a quiet assassin, the quiet one in a room who should not be taken lightly. He could fight and he had stamina. I got my stamina from him. I’ll tell you more about my dad in the next book.
I got a lot of bad traits from both of them too, but hey, you have to take the bad with the good.
I learned about love from my family, especially my siblings. That’s all we had, and it helped us through some horrible times. These days we don’t talk enough and we don’t see the love as much as we used to when it was the only thing there. But I know it is still there and I want to thank them all for helping me survive the life we shared.
We all have lives of our own and other people in those lives to share the time with. But those days growing up made me who I am, and I’m thankful that I went through them with my brothers and sisters, because I like who I am now. It took me a long time to get to this place but I made it. For all the sad things I’ve remembered in this book there are a thousand other moments that made me smile. When we thought we had nothing, we had each other.
I had a huge career with Cold Chisel, selling millions of records. During that time with the band I met Jane, the girl of my dreams. The one person in the world who could eventually make me feel safe. Jane is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen and the most important person in my life. I remember the minute I saw her. She took my breath away. I loved her then, I love her now, and I will love her forever. We have a beautiful family that is still growing, and these days, life is good.
The chip I had on my shoulder that had weighed me down for years became an attribute when I started writing songs. ‘You’ve Got Nothing I Want’ came from a young guy who had so many doors slammed in his face that he felt like the Avon lady. ‘No Second Prize’ came directly from my need to win at all costs. There was no other plan for me – it was sink or sing. And singing ‘Working Class Man’ was a match made in heaven for me. I wouldn’t put anyone else through my life, but fuck it, I survived.
I went on to have a career as a solo performer that included selling as many, if not more, records than Cold Chisel, and having so many platinum albums I ran out of walls to hang them on. So I built more walls and eventually I worked out that walls and awards weren’t going to make me happy. I was going to have to look longer and harder at myself, even if it hurt. My battle with my past and the scars that it left on me has been the cause of a life that was a roller-coaster of emotions, from great highs to unspeakable lows. Along the way I have laughed and loved, lived and lost. But I have always tried. I have tried to break the cycle that my family has been caught in. I’ve tried to hurt as few people as I could in this wild life I have lived. I’ve tried be a good man but the journey has not been easy for me or the ones I love the most. And I know that I have wounded many people along the way. I never meant to. I try every day now to pick up the broken pieces of my life and make a better person of myself.
I want people to read this because I know there are other people out there, just like me. People who think they are alone in life and that their cards have been dealt and that there is nothing they can do to change anything. That’s how I felt too for a long, long time. I nearly killed myself because of it. But now I know there’s always time for change and there’s always a better path. You just have to look for it.
This book was my first real step in looking for hope.
Peace and love
Jimmy