The Early Years

I was born in a medium size city in rural New South Wales (NSW), Australia in 1953. I was the first son of Maurice and Mildred. My parents initially lived in a small country town, about one hundred and ten kilometres south of my place of birth. When I was about two, we moved to live on "Killoran," a farm in the back of nowhere, in the Southwest Slopes area of NSW. To say that it was quite isolated was an understatement.

When I was born, I had a dislocated hip that went undetected by the medical staff. My mother always thought there was something amiss with me and through her perseverance, this dislocated hip problem was eventually confirmed by a doctor when I was about nine months old. My mother insisted on getting the best treatment she could for me. This proved problematic as in the 1950's there was only limited medical treatment available in small country towns.

I was eventually sent to the Sanatorium (a medical institution in Sydney) for a period of treatment. During this time I was encased in plaster from above my waist to down both legs below my knees. I cannot remember the agony I must have been in. Nor do I remember how difficult it must have been for my mother every time I needed to be bathed, cleaned or nursed.

My mother told me about the many hours she sat at my bedside while I was in the Sanatorium. She had to stay with relatives who lived at Mona Vale, while my Dad remained at home working. At the time I was in this facility, in the bed next to me, there was another girl from a nearby small country town, who had the same condition.

In a lucky quirk of fate for me, I recovered fully with two legs of roughly equivalent length and a functioning hip; while the girl next to me had a limited recovery. She never had a functioning set of hips and one leg was longer than the other. She walked in callipers, with a built-up shoe and was unable to run or play sport. I did not have the sense or gratitude to appreciate fully this gift that was given to me, till much later in my life.

From this early time in my life I was very fortunate. It took me a long time to eventually wake up to this fact. Apparently the doctors warned my mother when she took me home, that if I ever suffered any leg injury in the future, my recovery might be undone. This influenced my mother to be overly protective in her care for me. As a kid I did not understand this, I was just resentful for my mother being so limiting. Three and a half years after I was born, my sister Neena was born.

This completed our family complement. The "Killoran" farm was a physically beautiful property of four thousand acres, with a creek running right through the centre. We were twenty miles (thirty two kilometres) out from town, several miles past the end of the Council road.

At the rear end of our farm was bush and scrubland, which eventually ran into a National Park. When I became old enough to attend school, I rode on the bus. This was my main means of interacting with people outside my immediate family.

We led a simple country life. I loved the animals on the farm. We had sheep, cattle and horses, I especially loved my horse. I used to ride around on Star (a big, black, beautiful, seventeen-hand gelding), who had a white blaze on his forehead. I generally lived in a fantasy world of cowboys and Indians. Because Star was so tall, I would whistle him up to the fence each morning and feed him a carrot when he answered my whistle. I would put a bridle on him and hop on his back from the top of the fence. I would then ride him bareback down to the shed, where my Dad would put on my saddle and then I was set for the day.

One day I was out riding around the farm and I wanted to go through a gate. I went to ride up to the chain-latch to undo the gate and open it without dismounting; as was my usual method. Star just stopped about ten foot (three metres) from the gate and refused to move. I was impatient and tried to urge Star to move. The horse continued to stand still. Because this was unusual behaviour I finally did a detailed scan of the area. There was a big, brown snake basking in the sun on the road in front of the gate. The horse was smarter and more observant than I was. I loved Star and enjoyed the endless hours we spent together riding around the farm.

Our physical isolation on the farm was matched by my mental isolation from most other people. I did not realise the depth of this isolation when I was young. It was just an empty feeling in my gut, which I did not understand. From an early age I just felt "different" from everyone else.

My mother was a prudish lady who was considered somewhat Victorian in her prim and proper attitudes. She had an older and a younger brother. She was the only daughter of a doting father and a punitive mother. Her parents had been wealthy when she was young and she was indulged by her father. She never moved on as times changed. She vainly tried to cling to her past, rather than grow with her new experiences. She was a nervous lady and overprotective of me because of my hip problem.

Mum stood heavily on ceremony, always being uptight and formal. I do not think she ever found peace within herself in her life. She spent the last thirty five years of her life quietly sedated on a steady diet of prescribed medication. In effect, she was a legal drug addict, but she would never have viewed herself in that way.

My father was a dirt farmer who had come from the Baradine area in western NSW. He grew up in very poor circumstances, and spent a lot of his youth following his older brothers and learning from them. They made a subsistence living on marginal farming land in the Baradine and Coonabarabran areas.

Maurice came to the town because his older brother John had been given a returned serviceman's farming lot. The story popularly told was that Maurice met Mildred at a barbeque at Paddy River Falls. Maurice offered to cook Millie's steak and waited on her. That set the tone for their marriage and he waited on her for most of her life. This characterisation was a little harsh, as Mum was fairly functional while my sister Neena and I were young children.

When we grew up and left home, Mum progressively withdrew from...