Let me take you through a window, back into a past era …
WWII had been over for just twenty years. Baby Boomers were being born. It was only a year or two after Australia adopted decimal currency. A war was raging in Vietnam, but it didn’t adversely affect us very much. Seatbelts and bicycle helmets were not yet compulsory, there were no such things as speed cameras, tasers, or breathalysers, and it was fun to ride in the back of the ute with the wind in our hair. There was no colour TV, and the internet was considered science fiction. We still had steam trains, and Jack Brabham was racing open wheelers.
It was only the 1960s, but a lot has happened since then.
Let me take you out into the bush, into my history, where I was mustering cattle by day, working alongside men who I consider to be the best stockmen in the world, and sleeping under the stars by night. I was interacting with Aboriginal people on their own native lands, on what was a working cattle station. The Aboriginal people did not gauge a man on what assets he had, but his hunting skills. I developed a lot of respect for these people and their culture in my time working on Mornington Island.