As time goes by, the value of some treasures increase, whilst others decrease.

For example, many years ago, prior to 0ur umpteenth house move, my parents decided to get rid of trinkets, mementos and documents they deemed to be of little or no sentimental value.

I just wish I had them now. Perhaps that is one experiences from my youth that has turned me into a bower bird. I find it extremely difficult to discard anything of a personal nature and, come to think of it, discard anything at all.

So you can imagine my dilemma when faced with making a selection of ‘Treasure’ when I’m surrounded by the things I deem to be ‘My Treasures.’

On reflection I thought that as my father has been dead for fifty years this year I’d use  ‘Treasures’ that formed a bond between the two of us.

My Dad was a chain smoker, there was always a ‘smoke’  between his lips from morning till late at night. He always kept his ‘smokes’ in his favourite cigarette case and I photographed it just a few minutes ago.

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It bears the image of a wolf, appropriate as Dad’s nick name was’The Lone Wolf’ as, according to friends who knew him he preferred the company of books to that of people.

Religion and music also played an important part in my dad’s life. He found the Church to be a haven where his fine tenor voice and keyboard skills on both organ and piano where utilised to the full by the local clergy from quite a number of denominations.

Dad tried for years to get me to take up smoking, singing, musical instrument and the Church but failed miserably.

As a lay preacher in the Church of England, he was bitterly disappointed that I only attended church when the regular parson was absent and Dad took the service. Strangely too, when Dad was practising his sermon on me it felt like punishment, not deliverance.

So, by the time I was twenty one and left home, I was sick and tired of Latin, Greek,Hebrew, French and German( the latter two from my Mother) and religion.

I knew of course that my father was a practising Mason and one day out of curiosity when visiting, I asked him to explain to me what was the attraction of freemasonry.

By the time he had finished I was convinced that Masonry was for me.

A few years later I joined Dad at his Sydney Lodge and eventually became a fully fledged Mason.

Now most people know that Masonry has a firm basis in religion and I found its application in the Lodge satisfying.

As a fresh faced Mason I was presented with a Holy Bible and it has become one of my great treasures. It sits proudly in my book case alongside my Dad’s and my Father in Law’s. Here they are together. 161907_0003 copy 3

Dad’s bible is on the left, mine in the centre and my Father in Law’s on the right.

I get a really nice feeling when, from time to time, I look in Dad’s bible instead of mine for a reference . That’s probably why mine looks in such pristine condition.

I held onto Dad’s regalia too and it sits, together with mine, and, in a way keeping us both close over the years.

Mine’s only fifty years old and Dad’s must be well over 90 years. You can see from the following photograph that mine shows little or no sign of wear but that’s a story for another day.

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So, there we are, three of my treasures from days gone by.


Hoo roo until tomorrow.






  1. My dad was also a lover of tobacco, music (opera) and the Bible. Glad yours couldn’t convince you to take up smoking.

  2. Ahhh, a collector of “treasures”… This is reflected in your recent posts about having to sort your shirt and hat collections. 😉

    There is a history of collecting in my family: My paternal grandfather was a youth during the Great Depression, so he became quite a collector (after all, there’s potential use for–or value in–everything); and my father is a bit of a collector, an organized one; but my brother… My brother seems to have inherited my grandfather’s tendency–keeping everything, either for its potential usefulness or for its sentimental value.

    I on the other hand am a bit of an anti-collector, and sadly, I’ve already discarded much that I wish I’d kept. Maybe I should change my ways.

    I hope you plan to tell the rest of your Mason story, Mr. Bones.

    1. Thanks Ry, appreciated. I guess there is a difference between being a collector and a hoarder. I probably fall somewhere in between. My father collected books and music so it must be in my genetic make up too. You could start collecting maps, that’s a good start and doesn’t take up much room.

      One of these days I’ll write the Masonic bit. Not too sure how to approach it though.

      1. It’s funny that you mention maps: I don’t know how it is in your neck of the woods, but here in the American West, there’s still enough uninhabited space that cell service just isn’t available everywhere (I imagine that y’all’s outback is much the same). Well, where there’s no cell service, paper maps are essential for navigation: Over the years I’ve grown quite a collection—very useful treasures.

        I’m glad there are spots around the globe that continue to defy technology’s reach.

  3. Spot on. Vast areas of our continent have no mobile coverage at all. Sometimes no GPS signals either.I don’t know why. For that reason, our 4 x 4 Landrover is fitted with an HF radio with a range of about 2000 miles. That gives us contact with police and also the Royal Flying Doctor Service and many others with the same set us as ours. We have a call sign issued by the Government for our on air identification. The radio also has the capacity to receive short wave commercial and state radio. We can listen in to Radio America and hundreds of others when climatic conditions are suitable.
    And yes, we too carry topo maps and a compass as sometimes we venture into areas where there are no roads or tracks. Great fun, ‘never truly lost’ either.

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