The Bugle’s historian Mark Emery isn’t just a keeper of history, he’s a keeper of hearts, of connections, of the fragile threads that hold families together across time. His story begins on Avonlea, the family’s dairy farm perched high above the Pacific Ocean at Gerroa. The farm’s name, Avonlea, carried a sense of warmth and nostalgia, a name that conjured stories as rich as the milk they produced.

Mark Emery volunteers at Gerringong District Museum once a month on a Friday. If you see him there, have a conversation he is a wealth of knowledge.

Mark grew up in a place of beauty and hard work, where the rhythm of life was set by the cows and the tides. His parents, Clive and Elva Emery, were more than dairy farmers. They were visionaries who turned part of the farm into the former Avonlea Caravan Park (now known as the Gerroa Discovery Park). For decades, it has bustled with visitors, becoming a sanctuary for strangers and a living, breathing part of the community.

Mark and I share family ties,his grandmother and my grandfather were siblings

Mark is shaped by this life, by the values his parents quietly instilled in him. He attended Gerringong Public School and then Kiama High School, places that taught him as much about resilience as they did about the classroom. Like many kids, Mark faced his challenges, most notably, bullying. “I was bullied,” he says. “You don’t forget that.”

Those experiences left a lasting mark on Mark, shaping the kind of teacher he would one day become. When he began his career as a primary school teacher, he carried with him the determination to stand up for the vulnerable. “Helping kids who were bullied, making sure they felt safe, that was the best part of teaching,” he reflects. For Mark, teaching wasn’t just about lessons; it was about seeing the kids on the edges and making them feel seen.

But Mark’s story doesn’t end in the classroom. After his father, Clive, passed away, Mark became the custodian of an incredible family archive. Clive had saved everything, letters, photographs, postcards, all meticulously preserved in a leather suitcase. Holding that suitcase today feels like holding the weight of a family’s story. Among its treasures is a piece of history that takes us back even further, its holds one of our first ancestors to arrive in Australia bible inscribed with her name.

It was through his collection that I rediscovered something I thought I’d lost forever. As I sifted through his suitcase of memories, I found two precious photographs, one of my parents on their wedding day and another of my mother, Robyn Chittick (née Lindsay), as a 14-year-old bridesmaid at her brother Henry Chittick's wedding.

Robyn Lindsay (nee Chittick) on her wedding day and as a 14 year old bridesmaid at her brother's wedding

I had never seen either image before. After my mother passed away, our family photos went missing, and seeing these felt like a miracle, like reclaiming a piece of my life I thought was gone forever.

Mark didn’t initially recognise the people in the photos, but when he saw my reaction, he understood their significance. “Seeing your face light up, it reminded me of my mother,” he said quietly. “She would’ve been thrilled.”

Mark’s mother, Elva, was just as much a historian as Clive, though in her own way. While Clive preserved the big milestones, Elva was determined to make sure women’s stories weren’t overlooked. She ensured that their sacrifices, triumphs, and quiet contributions were remembered, a legacy that Mark has embraced wholeheartedly.

Now, in retirement, Mark spends one day a month volunteering at the Gerringong History Centre, sharing his love of local history, the South Sydney Rabbitohs, and The Beatles. But it’s the personal stories, the connections between people, that mean the most to him.

Mark has a simple but powerful message for anyone with a family history to share: “Start now. Write it down while you still can. Don’t just tell the big events; tell the funny stories, the moments that bring people to life. And label your photos. Always write names and dates on the back because one day, someone will hold them and wonder.”

For Mark, history isn’t just something to look back on, it’s a gift we leave for the future. It’s the feeling of holding an ancestor's Bible and knowing their hands touched the same pages. It’s the joy of seeing your parents’ wedding day for the first time or your mother as a girl, decades earlier. Mark Emery’s life is a testament to the importance of preserving these moments and holding onto the stories that make us who we are.

Ellen Chittick's mother brought her family to Australia from Ireland in 1880 after her husband died. Her mother died of typhoid on the trip and as the eldest girl, Ellen, no longer had a life of her own. No marriage. No children. No career. Her life was one of duty, caring for her siblings. Ellen died in 1896 at the age of 39. All we have of Ellen Chittick is a photo and a Bible.

Avonlea may have been the name of his family’s farm, but it’s also a symbol of something bigger, a place where stories start, where history is alive, and where love and connection endure. Mark’s mother and father would be proud of him, of the way he keeps those stories alive, not just for his family but for all of us. And I’m proud to know him, to call him family, and to share in this legacy of remembering.