My Dad
Czeslaw Piotr Prokopowicz,
19/03/1925 - 31/03/2015
Born in Rakow Poland, near the Russian
border on March 19th, 1925, Dad grew up bilingual, speaking Polish & Russian
fluently. Dad also knew a smattering of choice Yiddish words and phrases that he often trotted out. He lived near the Russian border and often joked with us that he lived in Poland and went to school in Russia, I don't know if this was true or not, but it's a nice story.
He had two siblings, a younger brother, Stanislaw, and an older
sister Eva both of whom he lost touch with for many years after the war. Dad spent the years of his youth in a forced labor camp in Germany as
a result of the Second World War. As a result he ended up speaking German fluently, so well in fact that he was often mistaken for a German.
After the war, he spent two years in the
Polish unit of the American army, guarding German prisoners of war, and supplies, before deciding to set off on a journey to an
unknown place called Australia.
Im not sure where this picture was taken, but it certainly was somewhere in rural NSW,
soon after his arrival.
Dad came to Australia with several friends all
looking for a new life and some adventure.
Some of these men I remember fondly as stand in Uncles, Uncle Adam, Uncle Vic, Uncle Roman, Uncle John, and a few more who's names escape me now.
Arriving by ship, his journey took him via Naples, Egypt, and Sri Lanka he landed in Sydney.
Dad was mesmerized by the sights of ancient Pompeii and took many photos with his Kodak Retina camera, which still survives to this day.
Recruited for a job in exotic Papua New
Guinea, he and several of his friends took a two year post in Manaus Island and
Rabaul working for the Australian government. Dad a keen photographer took many
photographs of the local native peoples in their national dress, performing Indigenous
festivals and Sing Sings. These sights would have been quite rare for foreigner
s to experience, these islands in New Guinea being both remote and rarely
visited by people.
Looking back now, this must have been an
unusual and strange situation for a young man that had recently come from war
torn Europe. Hot & tropical, crocodile infested rivers and living in a Galvanised
iron Nissan hut, and tents. This was a journey from one of the world to the
other, one climate to another and to such a strange civilization as Papua New
Guinea.
After two years in New Guinea , Chester
arrived back in Melbourne , and settled into life working as a spray painter,
and living in a boarding house in Elsternwick by two women, who we as children
knew as Aunty Chris & And Aunty Molly .They were wonderful kind women who ran a boarding house for newly arrived Polish refugees. Often these women were the only female influence that these young men had in their lives.
Dad met mum, and the rest is history:
I came along,
and then there was Susan,
( Pic to be uploaded )
Dad was known to everyone as Chester. He
was always a happy and kind man. I don’t remember seeing dad ever really really
angry except of once or twice in my life. We were always threatened with the
strap, but it was rarely used and mostly just waved around to scare us.
Dad was always a soft touch, mum the
disciplinarian, although whenever we did something wrong the usual threat was,
“wait till your father gets home “.
It was a bit of Good cop, Bad cop.
Dad was a good cook, and was always seemed
to be hovering around the kitchen, cooking up a pot of “kapusta”, or stewed
cabbage. Each batch was different from the last, as dad never used a recipe,
and threw in whatever was in the cupboard. It always tasted good. His other
specialties were Rissoles, and Schnitzels. The rissoles were cooked like the cabbage, no recipe, but
always tasting good. Dad’s schnitzels were legendary, and Susan and I would
sometimes have schnitzel eating competitions, with dad cooking them as fast as
we ate them. They were always thin and crispy.
One of the funniest things I remember now,
happening when I was about 5 years old and we were living in Willow Avenue in
Tally Ho. It wasn’t funny at the time, but looking back now. It was. I remember
having a conversation with dad about how old he was & he told me he was 97
or 98 years old.. I was just learning numbers and I can’t remember how or why
we had this conversation, I asked him how old people were when they died. He
told me it was 100. I somehow worked out that it was only 2 years to go and got
really upset and started crying. Dad seemed to think this as very funny, until
mum told me he was kidding.
Dad was always taking photographs of us
kids, & every birthday party, event, holiday, and Sunday mornings heading
off to Sunday school was a reason to get the camera out. We were always
standing up straight until we later realized in our teens that we could pose
and pretend to be models.
This pic was taken in Queensland, thunder egg hunting somewhere near Nambour
Every Xmas and Easter holidays he packed up
the station wagon and we headed off somewhere. It was usually Canberra and
camping at the cotter dam. They were adventures, and Sue and I fought
continuously in the back of the car, where dad had turned the seats into a bed,
so that we could travel in style. We would stop every few hours for a ham
sandwich and a can of soft drink that he had secreted in every available
miniscule space in the car. When were little we all slept in the back of the
station wagon, but as we grew up we graduated to a tent.
As we got older we ventured further,
Nambour Queensland, and the yearly mango smuggle.! or Tathra Beach where we
slept in this heavy canvas tent, and spent days on the beach. Also as we got older
we didn’t go as often, mum hated camping, and we had all discovered overseas
travel.
After Sue and I left home, mum and dad
discovered the freedom of travel and not having kids in the house. They were
always taking off to Thailand, Malaysia and Singapore, and then finally the big
trip to Europe and several years later Canada and the USA.
Dad absolutely loved travelling. Before he
got really sick, he took himself off on several trips to the USA solo, to visit
his sister in Rochester, and more than several times to Thailand.
Christmas was one of the times of year dad loved having all of the family around. Christmas EVE dinner was traditional in our house, and presents could not be opened until dinner had been eaten, the dishes washed and then we all settled into the lounge-room to see hat "Santa" had brought us this year.
Chester also loved a bargain, and whenever
he went shopping he always told you how much he had paid for something. He was
a bargain hunter. He also loved Junk day and the yearly through outs. He used
to go off on long walks using the dog as an excuse, and disappear for hours,
sniffing out the best rubbish to go back later and collect with the car, or
sometimes just carrying it home with him.
Dad was the king of the garage sale,
and unfortunately for mum, he sold many things he shouldn’t have., because he
thought that they never got used or were taking up space. Dad also became known
for his bicycle collection, always picking up a few to make one good one out of
to sell at his sales.
His trips to Asia always resulted in a new
camera. Right until dad went into the nursing home; he was always getting out
this old camera or that and asking me to take a look at it when I came to
visit.
For years Dad had a Camper Van, and every
year mum & dad would pack up and head to Queensland & Mission Beach.
They spent the cold months up north every year, camping and fishing and
generally having a good time meeting people. Dad was always friendly and up for
a chat.
As if Queensland wasn’t enough they also
did the grey nomad trip around Australia more than once I think. Dad liked to drive, but towards the
end, he frightened mum so much with his erratic driving that she refused to go
in the car with him any more, and she took over .It was a difficult day when he
had to give up his license, but he had become dangerous on the road, and his
Parkinson’s disease had started to affect his reflexes and balance.
Whenever I came to visit Dad also liked to wash my car, or fiddle with something that needed doing.
He helped me restore my Austin Healey Sprite.
He was also always cleaning my old Peugeot, a heap as he called it,
Dad seemed to have an affinity with the
family dogs, first Snoopy who he almost walked his feet off when we lived in Mt
Waverley and later when they moved to Ferntree Gully, and then with Peluchin,
or Mr Chin as he became known as, who he inherited from me, after I got sick
and had trouble looking after him properly.
Dad Loved Mr Chin, as Mr Chin loved him back
Mr Chin loved dad and was his
shadow. When Mr Chin got sick and finally passed away, dad was very upset. It
took him a long time before he would even consider getting another dog, and then
there was Tinkerbelle, who mum found on the internet, and tracked down to the
RSPCA.
Tinker became known as Laptop, as her favorite spot was sitting on dads
knees. As dad became more unsteady on his feet, and walked around less, mum
always knew where to find the two of them, sitting on the chair snoozing with
the telly blaring in the background.
Dad spent his final two years at Villa Maria Nursing home, Knox, where he was looked after like a King. He put on weight, he started to look better and he had interesting things to get involved with like Mens club, social outings, shopping trips, Sing-a-longs , movie nights etc. At first he wasn't too happy to be there, but he came to realize, that Mum just couldn't look after him anymore, and it was the best place for him to be.
The last two years of Dad's life was spent at the Nursing home. The people that worked there were wonderful and kind to him. They were patient and caring, and as dad became more unsteady on his feet, they helped him learn to deal with his disability in a way that didn't make him feel inadequate.
Dad didn't want to be a burden on anyone, and constantly joked about getting it all over and done with, much to mine and mums horror when we went to visit him. I never knew wether he was serious or joking and scolded him for upsetting us. he just smiled.
The end came quickly for Pa Chester as we all called him. Mum and I had spent the evening with him the night before he passed. he was in a deep sleep , so we sat holding his hands, letting him know we were there with him. We left him around 11pm and he was sleeping peacefully.
The next morning he woke early and asked the nurse for breakfast. She was surprised as dad hadn't looked to well the night before, and we had been expecting the inevitable. Dad had his breakfast and asked the nurse for a shower. she cleared his tray and told him she would be right back. When she returned a few minutes later dad had already fallen asleep. By the time I arrived a little after 10am he had already fallen into unconsciousness.
Mum and I sat with him quietly holding his hands letting him know that it was alright to leave us and we would be fine.
Around 2 pm he finally passed away, to be reunited with his beloved granddaughter Rebecca, His Parents, his brother and sister Stan & Eva , and the many friends he lost along his journey.
RIP Pa Chester.
