KRIS & BRUCE
Recently Mum told me some stories about when Dad had a bathroom renovation business in the eighties. Things had escalated pretty quickly, and Dad went from doing it by himself to having something like ten guys working for him at once. He was designing the bathrooms, dealing with clients, running the whole show. But then there'd always be more to do. "Dad would come home with a shirt and tie, change into his work clothes, then go back out the door to fix up all the guys mistakes, before finally coming home for dinner". And when the recession hit, the business hit hard times. Clients wouldn't pay bills etc etc, and things got tough. Mum and Dad had to sell the house to not go under, and also bail out our Grandpas plumbing business. I didn't really know all this stuff till recently, because at about the same time I had an accident on my pushbike. I was four years old, and I ran into a car without a helmet on, and burst the wall between my inner and middle ears. On both sides (unheard of). Which meant that I lost about half my hearing, leaving me with hearing aids for the rest of my life. I can't imagine employing ten people and running a business like that. Let alone employing ten people, the economy hitting a recession and having a son losing his hearing in a pushbike accident. I almost started crying when Mum told me all this. When I went through one of the most traumatic experiences of my life, all I remember is two parents holding me and loving me; even though my world was turning upside down.
My old man is one of those rare people that is highly intelligent, but also insanely good with his hands. One of my favourite memories of Dad is the smell of his sweat when he was working. Something of a combination of sawdust, metal and manliness. It was so masculine, and made me want to be a real man too. I remember calling Dad a perfectionist when I was young, and he said "no, it just has to be done properly". I've really held onto that. You can't spend your life fluffing around trying to get everything exactly perfect, but you do have to make sure things are done properly.
Dad would always play me guitar music when I was young, and I can pretty safely say I owe being obsessed with guitars to him. I remember once when I was 15 I found a white Fender Stratocaster in the Trading Post for $500 in Hurstvile (right across the other side of Sydney, 1 ½ hours away). Not only did he drive me all the way there and bargain with the guy, but he let me pay it off with pocket money for who knows how long. I was so proud of that guitar, I thought I was the coolest kid in school. I still got picked on, but as far as I was concerned, those dicks could piss off, I had a Fender Strat! It doesn’t look much like it did in 1996 anymore (it sounds better though), but it’s one of my favourite guitars, and I still play it all the time. Thanks Dad.
Dad and I have had our ups and downs. We had some recurring blues years ago, which finally came to a head at one point. We didn't talk for a few months, but after that we sorted it out, and since then our relationship has been the best it's ever been. When my marriage broke up a few years back, Dad was the one I could always go to. Mum and Dad live in the country just out of Sydney, and every time I'd fly home it was like I was flying back to a safe haven away from my world of shit. Dad and I would go out building and fixing things, and I'd bleed my heart out and he'd listen and tell me everything was going to be alright. And sure enough, it was.
Since all that went down, my professional career as a photographer has hit levels I couldn’t have dreamed of; which is something else I owe to the old man. When I was a teenager I commandeered Dad’s Canon 35mm camera. I was obsessed with taking pictures and must have shot hundreds and hundreds of rolls of film in that thing. Mum and Dad went on holidays to America last year, and I gave Dad my first pro digital camera, an old Canon EOS 5D, to take with him. It felt really good to be able to do that. He was stoked. He keeps on saying he needs to learn how to use it properly, but I say “Dad! You’re the one that taught me how to do this with the camera I nicked off you in the first place twenty years ago!”.
Dad told me recently that he absolutely loves bragging about his successful son. I just laughed at the time, but the more I thought about it (and still do) it staggers me that the man I've been in awe of my whole life is proud of me. I can't believe it. When I was young I used to always try to outdo Dad, until one day when I think we were rumbling or doing something physical, and I said something liked “imagine it I were bigger and stronger than you!”. Dad said to me "Kris, nothing would please me more than for you to be stronger than me!” He was referring to what we were doing, but I realised he meant in all parts of life. I realised that my father wasn't my competition, but instead my biggest fan. I thought all Dads said that to their sons, but apparently they don't. I feel pretty lucky that mine did.
~ Kris
KRIS & BRUCE
Recently Mum told me some stories about when Dad had a bathroom renovation business in the eighties. Things had escalated pretty quickly, and Dad went from doing it by himself to having something like ten guys working for him at once. He was designing the bathrooms, dealing with clients, running the whole show. But then there'd always be more to do. "Dad would come home with a shirt and tie, change into his work clothes, then go back out the door to fix up all the guys mistakes, before finally coming home for dinner". And when the recession hit, the business hit hard times. Clients wouldn't pay bills etc etc, and things got tough. Mum and Dad had to sell the house to not go under, and also bail out our Grandpas plumbing business. I didn't really know all this stuff till recently, because at about the same time I had an accident on my pushbike. I was four years old, and I ran into a car without a helmet on, and burst the wall between my inner and middle ears. On both sides (unheard of). Which meant that I lost about half my hearing, leaving me with hearing aids for the rest of my life. I can't imagine employing ten people and running a business like that. Let alone employing ten people, the economy hitting a recession and having a son losing his hearing in a pushbike accident. I almost started crying when Mum told me all this. When I went through one of the most traumatic experiences of my life, all I remember is two parents holding me and loving me; even though my world was turning upside down.
My old man is one of those rare people that is highly intelligent, but also insanely good with his hands. One of my favourite memories of Dad is the smell of his sweat when he was working. Something of a combination of sawdust, metal and manliness. It was so masculine, and made me want to be a real man too. I remember calling Dad a perfectionist when I was young, and he said "no, it just has to be done properly". I've really held onto that. You can't spend your life fluffing around trying to get everything exactly perfect, but you do have to make sure things are done properly.
Dad would always play me guitar music when I was young, and I can pretty safely say I owe being obsessed with guitars to him. I remember once when I was 15 I found a white Fender Stratocaster in the Trading Post for $500 in Hurstvile (right across the other side of Sydney, 1 ½ hours away). Not only did he drive me all the way there and bargain with the guy, but he let me pay it off with pocket money for who knows how long. I was so proud of that guitar, I thought I was the coolest kid in school. I still got picked on, but as far as I was concerned, those dicks could piss off, I had a Fender Strat! It doesn’t look much like it did in 1996 anymore (it sounds better though), but it’s one of my favourite guitars, and I still play it all the time. Thanks Dad.
Dad and I have had our ups and downs. We had some recurring blues years ago, which finally came to a head at one point. We didn't talk for a few months, but after that we sorted it out, and since then our relationship has been the best it's ever been. When my marriage broke up a few years back, Dad was the one I could always go to. Mum and Dad live in the country just out of Sydney, and every time I'd fly home it was like I was flying back to a safe haven away from my world of shit. Dad and I would go out building and fixing things, and I'd bleed my heart out and he'd listen and tell me everything was going to be alright. And sure enough, it was.
Since all that went down, my professional career as a photographer has hit levels I couldn’t have dreamed of; which is something else I owe to the old man. When I was a teenager I commandeered Dad’s Canon 35mm camera. I was obsessed with taking pictures and must have shot hundreds and hundreds of rolls of film in that thing. Mum and Dad went on holidays to America last year, and I gave Dad my first pro digital camera, an old Canon EOS 5D, to take with him. It felt really good to be able to do that. He was stoked. He keeps on saying he needs to learn how to use it properly, but I say “Dad! You’re the one that taught me how to do this with the camera I nicked off you in the first place twenty years ago!”.
Dad told me recently that he absolutely loves bragging about his successful son. I just laughed at the time, but the more I thought about it (and still do) it staggers me that the man I've been in awe of my whole life is proud of me. I can't believe it. When I was young I used to always try to outdo Dad, until one day when I think we were rumbling or doing something physical, and I said something liked “imagine it I were bigger and stronger than you!”. Dad said to me "Kris, nothing would please me more than for you to be stronger than me!” He was referring to what we were doing, but I realised he meant in all parts of life. I realised that my father wasn't my competition, but instead my biggest fan. I thought all Dads said that to their sons, but apparently they don't. I feel pretty lucky that mine did.
~ Kris