What My Grandad Knew

Lately, I’ve been thinking about my Grandad. He had a big, booming voice and a laugh that echoed like a cooee off the Bunya Mountains. Broad and strong, warm in his presence, with piercing green eyes that both saw you and sparkled with generosity. There was kindness in him and a firmness that never wavered from his values.

Community wasn’t something he talked about. It was how he lived. Farmer or townie. Rich or poor. Local or passing through you were met the same. There was no space for ego or hierarchy. Just connection. He never locked his front door. At the gate, he sold fruit and vegetables from an old cart with an honesty box and a handwritten sign, Pay what you can. No cameras. No suspicion. Just trust. As a child, I assumed that was normal.

Now I sit at my own kitchen table, boots by the door, laptop open connecting with women across paddocks and towns through a screen. And sometimes I wonder what he would make of that.

But the more I reflect, the clearer it feels. You see while the tools may have certainly changed. The values haven’t. Where he gathered people at the gate, I gather them online. The setting is different. The heart is the same.

Blending old and new isn’t about choosing between tradition and progress. It’s about carrying forward integrity, warmth and trust and using what’s available now to extend.

Farmer or townie. Rich or poor. On the doorstep or online. We’re still just people wanting to feel seen and valued.

What values have shaped you? How are you honouring them?

My grandfather the late Neville Ludke (Snr)