Please give, to enable my boys to go to Australia

My name is Paul Fransen, son of Captain Leo Fransen and father of two young boys. To say I am proud of my dad is an understatement.

Everyone thinks their dad is a hero. Mine certainly was. He was killed on Thursday 16th November 2023, fighting fires in New South Wales, Australia. He and his team were about 400 miles from home, helping people they have never met, save properties they have never seen, in a place they have never been.

My dad loved Australia so much. He made sure me and my sister were born there, and even though we didn’t stay, he always knew he would be back.

All his life he worked hard. He would be the first to tell you that reading and writing were a struggle. He left his Catholic school with no qualifications, after being beaten for not being able to read and write properly (nowerdays it’s known as dyslexia) and he was beaten for being left handed. He left school at 14 and went out to find work as soon as he could. From working on farms and digging holes in the dust in Australia, to baggage handling at Gatwick Airport, work was always back breaking for my dad, but he didn’t care, it was like he enjoyed the pain. It started snowing once, while he was riding his motorbike into work one day. He clocked in, started work and got snowed in for over a week. He still holds the record for the longest shift ever worked at the airport.

When I was 14 he sold everything and moved back to Australia and planned a 6 week holiday, but within 6 hours of landing, he’d picked up a truck and started a successful business the very next day. He didn’t stop for 20 years, until his wife got ill, so they sold everything and moved to a retirement village up the coast. His wife was a nurse. She had been caring for people all her life, now it was time for them to take care of themselves for once, but that didn’t last long.

My dad couldn’t sit still for long. He started volunteering for the Rural Fire Service at Diamond Beach, and dedicated his life to it. He’d call us up and tell us stories of how he’d helped at the fire, helped at the flood, helped with the fund raising, helped at the accident. They flew him and his team to help at a fire up North, just for a couple of weeks, he said. He ended up staying for 114 days straight, dodging the call up whenever the bus came to take people home. He didn’t want to go home, why would he go, when people were still out there needing help?

Everyone’s dad’s a hero.

My dad was a legend.

He’d say he couldn’t read very well, but he could read all right:

He could read people, like a book.

He could read the room.

He could read a situation.

He could read an emergency.

Always ready; he could read so well, it kept getting him promoted.

He could right too:

He could read me my rights, that’s for sure.

He could right people’s wrongs.

He knew how to make things right.

And when you spoke to him, about anything at all, he was always right there with you.

But never righteous.

Never seeking the limelight, the limelight found him.

He strived to be a good bloke, and he was.

What a man.

A man my boys need to know about. To see who we was, how he lived, who’s lives he touched and what made him who he was.

He loved Australia. If you’d have asked him, Australia made him who he was.

I wish my boys could see what made him.

When the dust settles from the funeral, in a year, maybe two. I’d love to bring my boys to Australia, but going to the funeral will wipe us out financially. So I’m here, asking for donations, for the sons of the son of the hero, the legend, my dad.

Please give what you can and let my boys see what an amazing place Australia is, and what amazing people Australia makes.

Thank you,

Paul