Setting aside philosophical questions that continue to sodomise science surrounding the phenomenon of life & at risk of interrupting what otherwise appears to be a dynamic cycle, the simplest answer would seem - It all started with these two. Robin Fisher & Steven Parker.
Whilst some children were allegedly found in cabbage patches & others delivered by stalks, Mum & Dad generally gauged age appropriateness based on maturity in the sense that if were "old enough" to ask a question (in a sensible fashion) we were "old enough" to hear the answer so I was fairly well aware of the basic mechanics of things well before I'd reached school age.
Although contention exists between so called "experts" over the fact - I firmly believe my earliest memories were in utero. Despite far from having words to associate with various aspects of the experience I recall warmth, sensations of motion & varying shades of light that would at times become quite bright & red in colour (Similar to when you try to look up to the sunlight through your hands as a child). I mostly recall being almost a little too comfortable surrounded by an overwhelming sense of love. However at times I clearly recall such love being rudely interrupted by overwhelmingly foul levels stress. Needless to say, I did not like one fucking little bit. Looking back over a lifetime of contextualising the above - this combination of intense feelings makes perfect sense.
Piecing together the puzzle, it would seem I was conceived around the time Mum & Dad returned from Darwin to South Australia & married shortly prior to Dad handing himself in for robbing "The Drug Squad" to avoid being murdered by corrupt police.
Subsequently, whilst Dad served his incarceration in Cadel Prison Mum endured almost her entire pregnancy staying with Dad's mother Shirley Parker aka Grandma. They shared temporary accommodation in Port Augusta as Grandma had just finished a University degree to the equivalent of what would now be considered a Bachelor of Social Work. It is unclear to me why Grandma didn't allow Mum to stay in her family home in Para Hills where Dad grew up. However, this was most likely to some extent due to the fact that as consistently reflected by her actions throughout time, the most appropriate description for Grandma is that she is a complete & utter CUNT.
According to Mum there was certainly significant levels of tension & conflict between her & Grandma throughout the pregnancy. Dad was sill in jail when I was born in Pt Augusta hospital on the 5th of May 1982. As legend has it, when I was born Grandma walked in, took one look at me & said to Mum "I will never bond with this child". Hardly a wonder my poor Mum having just birthed her first child was tense around such a creature. I'm unsure how old I was when I first learned of this. However, I'd be nearly 30 when I finally figured out what I did to inspire such hateful response? In the end there would be one clear explanation for Grandma's callous words being - that I'd committed the ultimate sin of being born with a cock. See Grandma was one of the pioneer "feminists". But not one of the good ones, rather the one the ones who give "feminism" a bad name. She was merely a resentful old CUNT who after having three sons decided she hated men, became a lesbian & inflicted severe emotional damage upon most of the males in her family in manner consistent with the concept of "narcissistic discard". Instead of seeing me, an innocent newborn child with limitless potential to be raised right (like a blank canvas & fresh pallet of paints) - all she saw my cock which she associated with all the problems in the world.
I recall the immense love of my mother contrasted with the interruption of tension throughout those early weeks & have clear memories of being in a vehicle driving past an oval or some kind of grassed area. Fortunately, my first experience with "Hell on Earth" would be short lived & sporadic thereafter.
As soon as possible Mum left Grandmas & spend 10days with my Great Grandpa Read in Hallet, between taking me to meet Dad in Cadel, & prior to moving in with Nanna & Grandpa, Mums parents aka Norah & Rodney Fisher who ran Yendoran Station about 10km north of Hawker, in South Australia's Flinders Rangers. Nanna grew up on Edeowie Station has been a paraplegic due to Polio when she was 14 which took the life of her younger sister. Based on her stories she had a good father who done well to save her & her remaining siblings from being murdered by their psychopathic mother. After surviving Polio at the age of 14 Nanna proceeded to achieve everything she was told she'd never be able to do from riding horses again, driving cars, getting married & having three children, catering for shearers - All whilst paralysed from the waist down with callipers & sticks. Grandpa was a tough old goat raised at Montana Station N/E of Carrieton, SA - & has always been nothing less than a true gentleman who would be highly offended & likely embarrassed by use of language. Nevertheless, being huge influences on my development & some of my earliest infant memories include the profound relief of escaping the tension of Grandma & being surrounded by the loving nature of Mums side of the family in the screen country environment with the gentle breeze through the pines, accompanied by the songs of magpies & other wildlife.
It wouldn't be too long until Dad would have served his sentence & I could finally get to know my father.
Upon his release we moved to Tasmania for a probably only a matter of months. However, this would provide some more very specific landmarks to place certain memories throughout time.
We moved into the St Andrews Inn (12819 Midland Highway, Cleveland, Tasmania, Australia) which was being run by one of Mum & Dads friends who I'm pretty sure also just happened to be called Mark. I recall there being no fly screens due to an incident where I was climbing up a couch & looking through the window in ore at the magical environment outside. Then out of nowhere, someone swiftly swept me up & moved the couch to prevent me climbing out the window. For some reason part of my thinks it was that cunt Grandma but I might have that detail wrong, it was certainly a woman tho & it wasn't Mum. Nevertheless, I might not have had words to describe it but I was so fucken pissed off.
There was another occasion I recall Dad & Mark going out to get a load of meat, & then Dad being pissed off when they arrived back & his friend chose to get wasted before unloading the car. Once again, without really knowing what it mean I specifically remember Dad saying "he's gonna end up killing someone" in relation to food poisoning.
The clearest time marker I have throughout this period though is memories of a male flight attendant aka steward making a fuss over me whilst in my mothers arms as we boarded the airplane. I'm unsure what made it stand out, possibly a combination of my awareness being hyper-aroused by the nature of the airport prior to attention being suddenly shifting towards me with in animated excitement over having a baby on board as he proceeded to pin an airline broach on my jumpsuit. I cherished the broach which I remember quite clearly as having some kind of emblem or branding in the middle with wings on either side. When I was quite young (perhaps 5-6) I was devastated after one of the wings broke off. However, as it was obviously important to me Dad came to the rescue & glued it back together with Araldite. Although I kept hold of it until around my teenage years after which it eventually disappeared. For most of my life I thought I must have been a couple of years old at the time but according to Mum who was kinda shocked when I mentioned it - apparently I was only about 8months. Nevertheless, that memorable flight marked our move back to South Australia where we would acquire & move into public housing @ 27 James St, Whyalla (Norrie).
Continued on: Brotherhood & Sibling Rivalry - A Bitter/Sweet Threat to my Rightful Place as Centre of the Universe