Born at Morpeth in the beautiful Hunter Valley of New South
Wales on February 3rd 1932 to parents Reg & Dolly Jones,
Reginald Keith Jones. Thus, my Dad came to be. He was
born into a poor family, fourth of ten children. We know very
little of Dad's childhood except for he fact that out of not
having any real respect for his dad, he preferred to be known as
Keith Jones rather than Reginald Keith. We did not even know
his name included Reginald until we were older. He would not
under any circumstances discuss his father. We do know he loved
his mother along with his brothers and sisters VERY much.
However I know, he worked all sorts of jobs as a youngster
to help his Mum raise his siblings but never would he have
bragged about it.

There's probably a lot I don't know about Dad.

If you'd care to listen I'd like to tell you what I do know
about Dad. I know our Dad was a family man who adored his
own children and grandchildren. If I could make one wish
and have him back for just a day, my wish would be that he
get to meet my daughter and niece as well as his many great
grandchildren. I know he'd have loved them all so very much. I
know he loved Country Music, camping and picnics with all his
brood along. So strong are my memories of many such happy
outings I can still vividly recall many campfires though at
the time I didn't realise what they'd come to mean to me. I
know he liked a beer and a game of darts at his local pub. I
know he loved a beer and a sing-along whether it be at the pub
or at a party at home. I know he had a beautiful singing
voice and could play most instruments by ear. As I sit here
writing this I can hear him playing an old piano accordian
in the bedroom while getting dressed. I'll never know why he
never played that accordian anywhere but the bedroom after a shower.
I guess he was just a shy man.

I know that my Dad was the type of person everyone loved and
respected. He would give you the shirt off his back. I know that
he helped many people out over the years. Our back
door was never locked. There was always a bed or place at the
table for anyone who needed it for whatever reason. I know he
worked hard all his life at everything from building dams to
share farming to being a Ganger at Nesca. (Now Energy Australia,
our local electricity commission) I know he was the type of
man who never expected anyone to do what he, himself couldn't.

I know that nothing meant more to him than us kids. I just hope
he always knew how much he meant to us. In his
later years, my fondest memory is of my own son, Keith traipsing
round everywhere after Dad. Keith and Len (my Brother's
son) were the last (at the time of his death my youngest
son, Jarrod, was just three months old) in a line of grandchildren
who idolized Dad. Some of the stories and tall tales those kids
used to tell each other about their camping trips with their "Pa"
really make me chuckle. As in turn they told their own stories,
each one was of a greater escapade. And you could bet that the
next time that story was told it got even better. Mind you, Dad
was in on all this and never denied any of their tales.

Mostly, I know that my brothers and I all loved him so much.
I know that he was a wonderful, caring man who supported all of us and did his best to protect us from harm while still giving us the space to grow by making our own mistakes.

Sadly, on August 23rd 1987, Dad lost his battle with
the cancer he'd fought long and hard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Created on February 16th, 2002.
Updated on October 14th, 2013.