​As I can remember a casual overheard conversation about me from more than 60 years ago, I guess it has been life changing.

I had left school at the end of year 11 just a few months previously and was working on the family farm which is what I'd told my parents I really wanted to do. So I was doing things like crutching sheep, mustering cattle, ploughing paddocks and carting hay, all the things i'd done for years and enjoyed anyway.

Then one work day evening I was getting dressed in my bedroom after a shower and realised I could hear my father and a couple of his friends talking over drinks, around a bar on the other side of a series of glass doors which formed one side of my bedroom.

Suddenly I realised I was the subject under discussion when I heard my father say “Diz (my nickname) is doing a wonderful job on the farm.”

Well that was a bolt from the blue because he'd never praised me personally before and I don't think he ever did after that either. Not that he was critical much either, except when I tipped over a hay bale loader when towing it carelessly behind a ute and another time when I nearly landed his plane on a small mob of sheep. (would have been messy).

About 15 years later, we'd sold the farm and I had just started working as a journalist for the weekly farm paper Stock and Land. At a farm field day not far from here, my parents met up with my editor for the first and only time. And again in absentia I was praised for the reporting job I was doing.

Those are things which you remember and are life changing I think because the praise means more because it is indirect. But I'm not sure indirect criticism works so well.


David Palmer
​February 2024

​A major “Life Changing” event for me and my family occurred in 1985.

My son wanted to invest some money into something. He didn’t know what.

We discussed it and spoke about it many times, but he couldn’t decide what to do.

One day he came home from work and said, “I think I know what to spend some money on”. He showed me an ad in the Herald-Sun. It wasn’t in the normal advertising pages of the Newspaper. It was a small picture at the bottom of about page 5. The picture was of an old Holden, a 48-215, more commonly known as an FX. It was priced at $4000.00 at a car yard, Patterson Cheney in Ballarat Road Sunshine.

I was never overly interested in cars, especially old ones. I had bought a few over the years, but all second hand and not that expensive. I tinkered with some of them, mainly servicing them and keeping them roadworthy.

Tom Barnaby
February 2024

I have touched on this in previous stories but one of my many and varied experiences occurred back in the 1970’s in London. I was on a working holiday in the UK and, with my Welsh heritage, was able to travel on a British passport and work to fund my trip.

The day began with lovely sunshine and new friends made during my travels. We were all young and enthusiastic, keen to explore, try new things and have new experiences. Be careful what you wish for. I had only been in London for 6 months and was keen to explore places I had only heard about, the big stores etc. On this day we went down to a narrow subway under a block of business offices heading toward the Thames River, leaving the traffic noise and crowds behind us. Suddenly there was a loud bang, and I remember thinking car accident. Debris was flying around me, then darkness. I will never forget that weird sensation of being confused, bewildered as I looked around, somehow, I was lying on the floor, I don’t recall falling. My friends were gone, I didn’t know where. Nearby was a rough looking young man with blood on his head. Another man was crawling towards us. A woman next to me was crying. Where was the sky? Why couldn’t I see. We all huddled together trying to keep each other calm as we tried to figure out what was going on.

By now the noise had gone, the dust settled but it was dark, like we were in a cave. This being before mobile phones we could not call anyone; we were on our own. We were joined by another man who said, I think we are in trouble. What an understatement. We sat for ages, trying to chat, trying to figure things out in our dark and silent place.

We introduced each other and Tom, the newest arrival said “don’t panic but I think that was a bomb”. Wow, I had heard about random bomb threats, bombings etc. but here? Now? Can’t be. We all dismissed that thought; it was too scary to contemplate. There were no Govt buildings in this area, no police stations that were normally the targets. Tom then admitted he was a detective and had just called in to pick up the lunch orders before heading in to the police station. I’ve often heard jokes about, you can never find a policeman when you need one, well we had our own!!!

Another man then introduced himself as Father Murphy, not the best name under the circumstances.  He started us singing silly songs and telling jokes. I had no way of knowing how long we had been there but it seemed like forever. Eventually Father Murphy offered prayers and begged the Lord for help. None of us were believers but he tried to reassure us stating God would help us. The blood covered man, never told us his name, said “Has he got a @#@!@# shovel then?? We laughed; it broke the tension. The priest looked up and suddenly there was a chink of light and a voice said, is anybody in there?

We began calling out, yelling and laughing at the same time. Relieved that help had arrived and amused that the priest had appeared to summon help from above. The hole got bigger and one by one we were hauled out of our cave. A fleet of ambulances stood waiting for us and first aid administered. On that day I began my journey towards becoming a Christian and vowed to take each day as it comes and make the most of my life. Make every day count.

We had survived 10 hours under the rubble of the office building that had collapsed on our laneway. It was indeed an IRA bombing.

I was uninjured but one thing I really desperately needed was ...

… a loo !!!!!!!! 


Heather Hartland
​February 2024

​My life changing moment happened when I was 8 years old, a long time ago and one which I would never conceive could happen…

However, as a young child I was part of the generation that had the obvious tonsils out before 5 years of age and unfortunately had my adenoids removed three years later. Probably caused by living with smoking parents and poor diet!!

One of the final treatments to enable my hearing to be optimal was to be referred to a large Auckland Hospital 4 hours away by road to undergo a series of X-Ray radiation treatments of an hour a time to help clear the eustachian tubes and enable me to achieve perfect hearing!

The treatment was quite daunting in that I was placed in a very large (10 metre ceilings) room with a HUGE radiation machine. I was placed on a movable bed and slid into the machine so that the area between my ears was a focal treatment area. The treatment was for one hour at a time and very scary for an 8-year-old youngster!!

Luckily, I achieved exceptional hearing which allowed me to pass the Military pilots medical and undertake pilot training in the RNZAF.

Moving on to age 37, the doctor noted a small tumour below my left ear. He tried to remove in the surgery however was unable to complete so was referred to the oral surgeon to remove. This was at the time that my wife had just given birth to our second child, so I went into the hospital for a day surgery under local anaesthetic, as I had to drive home after.

This was benign!

Moving on to 2016, I went to the dentist, and she discovered a lump in the roof of my mouth, which hadn’t really been bothering me. She referred me to a pathologist, and he also was nervous about taking a biopsy so referred me to an oral surgeon same day…
This was before Christmas 2016.

After the new year I received a call from the oral surgeon advising that I had a “Low grade Muco-epidermoid carcinoma”. He was unable to do the operation (because he was skiing in Japan!!) so he referred me to the Royal Melbourne Hospital Oral Maxillo Facial team for the operation. There were multiple appointments and scans before the operation Mid-February.

Prior to this we had been looking at buying an apartment in South Yarra and we were going to an auction the weekend before the operation. I said to my wife “do you want me to take the cheque book, given that I am in hospital next week for 14 days?” She responded, “take the chequebook!”

Anyway, we purchased the property, and I had the operation to remove the tumour (just like Johnny Farnham!!) Luckily, after being told the cancer had gone to a grade 4 cancer and required radiation and chemotherapy!! Wow more impacting treatment! Luckily the chief surgeon met us on the stairs and said that they had just had a meeting about my case and reckoned that they had enough margin, and no further treatment, phew, thank goodness for that.

We moved to South Yarra near the Botanic Gardens and enjoyed the experience. Then another tumour had grown behind my ear, so had that removed (benign!!)

Wow, that’s enough cancers. In the meantime, have had two more (prostate and a skin cancer on my lip).

Still alive and enjoying every moment I can breathe.

Thanks for listening……..


James Davey
​February 2024

It felt surreal.
 
As I travelled up Oxford Street and turned into Flinders Street (Sydney), my eyes surveyed places I knew and searched for people I might recognise.
 
No one would see me nor know I was behind the metal bars on the padlocked back door.  They would perhaps notice a police van passing and pay no further attention. Long Bay express. 
 
I was travelling from Regent Street police station. Frightened and exhilarated simultaneously. The previous day I had walked from the Sydney University campus, accompanied by friends and supporters, to the police station from where a warrant for my arrest had originated. That night I did not sleep comfortably.
 
The ‘paddy wagon’ arrived at the Central Industrial Prison through the iron gates and into the main staging area. In handcuffs I was lead into the reception area and began the processing. I was provided with trousers, shirt and shoes and socks. And a number! My new identity was 1058. I was then placed in a holding cell with a number of other prisoners. My anxiety level rose.
 
My number was called. and I was to be transferred to the Metropolitan Remand Prison. The bulk of the prisoners in the MRP were either on remand until they appeared before the court or were awaiting sentencing.
 
I was then again processed and taken to my single cell. There was a bed, a small table and chair and a toilet. There was a high small window utilized only to allow light into the room.  The door slammed shut. I froze in fear but was soon overwhelmed by a peace that was beyond immediate understanding.
 
At 5, it was meal time. My cell was opened and I was directed to a tea room at the end of the corridor. Here the evening meal was served.
 
Gathered were a group of convicted prisoners who provided services to the remand prison. As we were convicted, we could be usefully employed. These were ‘trusted’ prisoners either serving long sentences or recidivists. (And ‘political prisoners’).
 
Next morning, after a breakfast comprising crushed wheat and milk, toast, jam and tea, I was introduced to my daily job. I was classified as a ‘sweeper’. My job was more accurately described as a floor polisher, sweeping across large expanses of flooring with an industrial polisher that required skills of strength and delicacy.
 

Kevin Gilbert, nearing the end of his 14 year life sentence, was the prison librarian. He still is the most interesting person I have ever met.  Kevin educated himself in prison where he also developed his artistic talents. The library was an offshoot of my workplace and we were able to communicate often and in depth both while working, meal times and on weekends.
 
Wikipedia describes Kevin as an author, activist and poet. He was Australia’s first indigenous playwright and printmaker.  He was an active human rights defender and was involved in the establishment of the Aboriginal Tent Embassy in 1972. 
 
It was my privilege to be called his friend and I was a public advocate for his release.

I would never be the same after meeting Kevin.


Graham Jensen
​February 2024

​There was a day in June 1967 that was life changing for me in obtaining secure employment.  The venue was 118 Bridge Street, Benalla at the office of James H. Smith & Co., Chartered Accountant.

Twelve months earlier I had resigned from my long held (17 years) clerical position with the Victorian Producers Co-op (VPC).

I had sought a change because I felt that I was not reading my full potential in the work force.  I had transferred to a position with an associated Insurance company, Producers and Citizens Co-op.

This turned out to be a dreadful mistake as I was to find that I was totally unsuited to that profession, and had placed myself in an extremely stressful situation.

In desperation, after some 12 months drudgery, and without another job to go to, I resigned!!  My attempts to find another job were fruitless.  As a newly wed, I faced the daunting task of telling my bride that I was unemployed.


Some years earlier, in my single days, I had joined the Lion's Club and got to know Jim Smith, a Chartered Accountant.  So, I considered it appropriate to ask him if he had a client who was looking for a clerical assistant.  He told me to give him a week to find out.

On calling back in 7 days I was told "I have no such a client, BUT a vacancy has arisen in my firm.  Would you care to accept the position?"

- - - - THE LIFE CHANGING MOMENT - - - -

I gladly accepted!  I commenced on 30th June 1967, at a salary of $60 per week.

There had been no mention of qualifying as an accountant, but 12 months later, after familiarising myself with the requirements of the Income Tax Assessment Act and general book-keeping procedures, I registered as a "mature aged student" with the Hemingway Robertson Institute for a correspondence course.

Parallel to this course, I travelled weekly for 6 months to Melbourne (6pm to 10pm) for instruction; three sessions per week for 12 months to the Bendigo Institute of Technology (now La Trobe University) to study the Australian Society of Accountants Auditing course; after some years, 12 months of monthly 9am to 9pm courses at Albury for the Chartered Institute's "Professional Year" and finally, "the weekend from Hell in Sydney”.

After a total of 7 long years I was now CPA and a Chartered Accountant, advancing to "Fellow" some 4 years later.

I was now qualified to practice as a Chartered Accountant and could enter a practice with Jim.  I would need to buy a share in Jim's business.  BUT .... I had no money!

The going price for an accountancy practice was (and I think, still is) dollar for dollar for fees earned in a year.

Jim was responsive to my needs, (and also his own), and we negotiated a deal where I initially purchased a one-third share.  When the debt was paid out, this would increase to a one-half share.  This was achieved by monthly instalments.

And so the Chartered Accountancy practice of SMITH O'SHANNESSY became a reality!

The LIFE CHANGING MOMENT had materialised.


Ray O’Shannessy
5th February 2024