When I was 11 going on 12 I had a paper run.
The run involved selling papers
along the streets of Yennora.
It was one of the poorer suburbs of Sydney.
The year was 1963.
I finished the run about midday and started
walking home. My pay was a 10 shilling note.
As I was walking home I heard Bruce Smith
calling for help.
Bruce sat next to me in school.
He had polio and was crippled.
His left arm was deformed and he wore metal
braces on his legs.
He was screaming for help because three boys
were teasing him along the street.
They were pushing him and poking him.
He was clearly in distress.
i stood there unable to help.
I had no idea what to do. I felt like a coward.
The gang pushed Bruce into the ground and left him there.
I made a discovery that day that haunts me even now.
I discovered the horrifying truth
that life has to be shared with other people.