A Rocky Way to Paradise

By William Keech

This is about a young lad who lost his father, his only parent, and had to survive through hard and good times.
The book was written in a simple language to aid adults in learning to read.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Oct 2, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543403794

William Keech

My name is William ‘Bill’ Cecil Keech and lived in Gladstone, Queensland. I am one of fifteen children. I grew up in Beecher via Gladstone and was schooled at the West Gladstone public school until I was thirteen. My father would take me out of school to work with him. When I was thirteen and a half, my father left to look for work himself. I too left home to work on a dairy farm, sending my weekly pay of five dollars home to my mother to help the rest of the family. At fifteen, I was homeless, living under a road bridge in Rockhampton while working at Lakes Creek meat works. I falsified my age to get the job. At sixteen, I went out west as a stockman. At seventeen, I came home and got a job at the power station in Gladstone. I became a leading hand and jackhammer operator. In May 1972, while on the mail collection run for work, I was involved in a road accident, being the motorcycle victim of a drunk driver, resulting in the loss of my right leg above knee, 25 percent loss of function of the right arm, and ABI (acquired brain injury). The attending police officer didn’t have the heart to book his uncle, the offender of the accident, which resulted in no TAC, no insurance, and no payout of any kind. I was in the hospital for three and a half months. Work was hard to find when I left the hospital as nobody wanted to hire a one-legged person who couldn’t read. I spent many years working at odd jobs and trying to survive, which included fishing, fruit picking, crabbing, furniture making, welding, and markets until the year 2000 when I accepted the disability pension. Being unable to read and write after the motorcycle accident due to the ABI, a friend suggested that I should write a book which will assist in learning to read and write again. With that in mind, I decided to go ahead because not only will it help me, but it will help others as well. Writing this book was very hard but was of enormous help to me, and I hope that it will also be of help to others. If I don’t read and write daily, I have to start from scratch again. The publication of my book would be of enormous help to many.

Book preview

Copyright © 2017 by William Keech.

This book was inspired by the desire to help others, so I am going to give half my royalties to the Australian Lions Foundation.

Library of Congress Control Number:     2017913880

ISBN:                  Hardcover                      978-1-5434-0381-7

                            Softcover                        978-1-5434-0380-0

                            eBook                             978-1-5434-0379-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 10/23/2017

Xlibris

1-800-455-039

www.Xlibris.com.au

765181

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

About The Author

image.jpg

Dad’s Retirement Hut, William Keech

CHAPTER ONE

I N A WONDERFUL, quiet spot at the end of a long stretch of clear sand and aqua-blue sea, so typical of Northern Queensland, stood an old beach hut. Consisting of two large rooms, surrounded by a shaded veranda, pot plants hanging from every post, and a thick well-tended lawn on each side, this little piece of paradise was home to old Bob Walker and his son, Jimmy. Just the two of them and all that nature had to offer.

Perched on the railing, munching on a thick slab of toast, the boy was totally absorbed in his surroundings – the many different types of tropical fruit trees, such as Paw Paws, Mangoes, Five finger Star fruit, Bananas and lots more, along with the freshwater spring that ran through a green lush valley, and all that could be seen from this vantage point of their seventy-five acres. What a place. I just love it here and never want to leave, thought young Jimmy, not for the first time.

The following morning was cool when Jimmy awoke in his comfy small bed. In this hut, where he had lived for as long as he could remember, his stocky frame snug beneath the covers a mass of wavy dark hair surrounding his handsome young face, Jimmy looked forward to this very special day. It was his tenth birthday.

Although he could not recall his mother, his dad had made sure that each birthday was an occasion for celebration despite the fact that there was always so much work to be done by Bob and his willing, helpful son.

Bob was a widower since Jimmy was two years old. He had never thought of remarrying. For most of his life, Bob had earned his living as a fisherman and crabber. A short solidly built man, the loves of his life were the land, fishing, and his only son. He disliked cities and large towns and avoided them as much as possible.

The lad was well aware that although his dad’s memory was not as it was, he would never forget Jimmy’s birthday. He lay in bed, wondering what his father would have got for him, listening to the fisherman happily pottering about in their kitchen. Jimmy loved the sound of the wood breaking into chips as the old man lit the stove.

Utterly content, he knew that a delicious breakfast was under way. Young Jimmy was in no hurry to get up. It was much more fun just dreaming of what the day would bring.

All of a sudden, he remembered that old Bob had not been to town for months because the crabbing season hadn’t yet begun. Many, many weeks had been spent repairing crab pots and mending nets. With Bob’s energy waning and his fishing their major source of income, what if . . . ? Jimmy sat up with a start. What if there wasn’t enough money to buy a present? No! Old Bob would find a way. The boy’s thoughts roamed to the many kinds of surprises his dad could come up with.

Uppermost in his mind was a horse. His father had been going off a lot more of late with his aboriginal friends.

‘No!’ he said aloud. ‘It can’t be a horse. We haven’t seen any brumbies around here for over a year.’

His thoughts came to a halt as, with a pounding heart, he became aware of his father calling him from the kitchen. Running into the room, Jimmy looked all around and could not see a present anywhere. His face lit up, however, when his eyes fell upon the old wooden table full of goodies which his father had prepared.

With all the wonderful excitement of a healthy, hungry ten-year-old boy, Jimmy sampled everything. Most of all, he loved the wild fruits and ate his fill.

‘That was a very good feed!’ he said to his father, at the same time watching every expression on his father’s face, which disclosed absolutely nothing. Jimmy began to help his father clean up. Looking out the window, he turned to Bob and asked, ‘Are you going out with the Aboriginals today, Dad?’

‘Why do you ask?’ the old man questioned as he went on filling his pipe.

‘I can see them coming up the beach, that’s all.’

‘Oh!’ said Jimmy’s dad, casually getting up and walking out the door.

Thinking no more about it, the boy picked up the broom and started to sweep the kitchen floor.

It was not unusual for the aboriginals to come up to the hut. They had long been friends with Bob and would often take him and young Jimmy out after bush tucker or simply to walk through the scrub. Over the years, they had spent many a night on the land with their aboriginal friends, so there was nothing out of the