Gregory Smith knows a thing or two about the power of labels. At 17, he was diagnosed as sociopathic and spent the next 30 years living up to that description.
Violent, drug-addicted and itinerant, he channelled childhood trauma into a one-man war against society.
During the past 20 years, however, he has accumulated other labels. Doctor. Lecturer. Author. OAM. It's an astonishing transformation that he struggles, at times, to comprehend.
"My life has changed so much," he said when Australian Story filmed with him recently in Orange, in Central West NSW.
"I often, almost on a daily basis, am in awe of where I am today."
Dr Smith's journey from rough sleeping to the halls of academia was told in unflinching detail in his 2018 memoir, Out of the Forest, and an episode of Australian Story the same year.
Brutalised by his alcoholic father as a young boy, he was abandoned at 10 in an orphanage, where he suffered physical and psychological abuse. Juvenile detention, addiction, failed relationships and homelessness followed.
By the time he walked into Goonengerry National Park on the NSW far north coast in 1990, he had burnt every bridge behind him. And by the time he walked out of that forest for the last time some 10 years later, he was malnourished, psychotic and close to death.
But then a moment of clarity sent him on a dramatic new path. Sitting on a park bench behind Tweed Heads Hospital, he was struck by the realisation that he alone was responsible for his misfortune and vowed never again to touch alcohol or drugs.
Instead, he devoted his energies to self-improvement, one tentative step at a time. A TAFE course led to university and, eventually, a PhD in the field of sociology. That in turn led to a job as a lecturer at Southern Cross University. His is a story of the redemptive power of education and critical reflection.
In the years since he first told his story publicly, his transformation has continued unabated. He now has tenure at the university and was recently appointed chair of the board of the Faculty of Business, Law and Arts.
He's a sought-after public speaker and advises a variety of organisations on policies around homelessness. And this year he received the Medal of the Order of Australia for services to the community.
But perhaps more remarkable than any of those achievements are the changes in his personal life.
Not looking for love
By 2019, Gregory Smith was justifiably proud of his achievements and happy with his lot in life, living alone in Coffs Harbour. But in terms of starting a relationship, "I'd parked those ideas," he says.
Then he received a request for an interview from Regional Lifestyle Magazine, a glossy publication based in Central West NSW. The publisher had read his book and, as a former teacher, was inspired by the difference education had made to his life.
Catherine Player, a business manager and occasional writer from Orange, was assigned to the story and gave Gregory a call. "I had asked for half an hour of his time but three-and-a-half hours later, we were still talking," she recalls.
"I found the conversation quite riveting," Gregory explains, "and the intrigue of that discussion led into another discussion the next day."
That call lasted two-and-a-half hours and over the weeks that followed they called or texted each other daily.
"At this point," Catherine says, "he doesn't have a physical form, he doesn't have an age, he's just this lovely voice in my ear who's funny and engaging and highly intelligent."
She wasn't thinking about a relationship either. Happily single and co-parenting two boys with her former partner, she was flat out with full-time work, occasional writing jobs and regular gigs with her band.
Gregory lived nine hours away by car but said he'd drop by for a coffee if he was in the area.
"Gregory rocked up to Orange and there were no thoughts of romance," Catherine says. "But we just talked with such ease that when he left that evening I remember thinking, I'm going to really miss you."
'It was that simple'
Catherine and Gregory fell back into a pattern of regular texts and phone calls but they could both sense something had shifted and romance no longer seemed entirely out of the question. Eventually, they decided to meet again, hiring a house for the weekend in the Blue Mountains, and that sealed the deal.
"By the time I was driving back to Orange, I was thinking, I don't really know how I'm going to have a life without him," Catherine recalls. "It was that simple."
"That's pretty much where we decided that going forward we would build a life together," Gregory says.
Any doubts about their 23-year age difference were cast aside.
"I didn't fall in love with the age difference," Catherine says. "I did, however, fall in love with him, so I had to put aside any reservations that I had around age or anything else and just say, you know what, I'd like to be happy with this person.
"I know we look funny but he's just Gregory, the bloke that I was always meant to end up with."
Becoming a stepdad
Gregory Smith does not sugar-coat the fact that for many years he was an angry, anti-social person who welcomed violence into his life and personal relationships.
"I was dangerous," he admits today. "All I needed was to be left alone, to revel in my own agony. I've been asked did I suffer from depression or anxiety? I never suffered from it; I revelled in it. It gave me a purpose."
Asked whether she was concerned about living with someone with such a history, Catherine chuckles.
"I do have a habit of running headfirst into places where angels fear to tread – that's my signature move – but in saying that, I could also see that Gregory had done the work. His whole ethos in life is to do no harm and he does it considerably well."
If she didn't trust him completely, she would never have invited him to share a life with her beloved boys, Jackson and Charlton. Even so, there was a period of adjustment as everyone jostled for position.
"I've always taken, like, in my brain, the kind of man-of-the-house role," says Jackson, now 15, "and then Gregory came along, and he was the new man of the house. So there were a lot of arguments, but that was coming from me just thinking that I had more power than I did."
"They're two young boys doing what young boys do – they challenge authority," Gregory says. "At first that scared me. In my mind it was just, as much as possible, be the best person I can be. Try not to be their father. Try not to expect too much from them."
From Catherine's perspective, the transition was a smooth one. "He gave them time and attention and that's all kids want. They just want to be included. They want to know that they've been seen."
'The ultimate gift'
Becoming a stepfather in your mid-60s is one thing; becoming a father at that age is something else altogether. Nevertheless, that's what Catherine suggested not long into their relationship.
"I said no," Gregory recalls. "The first thing that jumped into my mind was a lack of sleep. I do like my sleep."
Catherine persisted and eventually Gregory agreed to "leave it up to the universe and see what happens". After all, the odds seemed stacked against them, given Catherine was now in her 40s. But two months later she was pregnant, and in August 2022, William was born.
Gregory has been a father before. During his lost years of addiction and dysfunctional relationships, he'd had a daughter, Katie. Although they now have a good relationship, he was an absent father and appalling role model and they were estranged for many years.
"Knowing Gregory's backstory, I thought, oh, this could be interesting," says Catherine's son Jackson. "But no, he's an amazing dad."
Watching Gregory with baby William – feeding him, reading to him, carrying him around the garden pointing out plants and flowers – it's clear he's relishing this second chance at parenthood.
"Having a child at my age, I have a lot more understanding of what I would have liked as a child so it's easy for me to provide for William," he says. "And I think that's the ultimate gift, really, to be able to give someone what you desired most. And that was a loving, caring childhood."
Change is possible
These days Gregory Smith's advice on homelessness is widely sought, given his rare combination of lived experience and higher education. And since he received the Medal of the Order of Australia earlier this year, his opinions carry even more weight.
"I'm still grappling with the immensity of that honour and what it actually means," he says. "I'm astounded at what those few letters on the end of your name can actually do in terms of advocating for the homeless or the vulnerable. It adds value to your voice."
But perhaps Gregory's greatest contribution is simply to stand as a living rebuke to the notion that people can't change. That we are captive to our histories, forever condemned to repeat our mistakes and pass on our traumas.
"If a person thinks that way they won't change," Gregory says. "You have to want to change to change.
"Changing who you are is a great adventure. To go on that adventure you need to take stock of what you're going to take with you and if it's an attitude that's going to hobble you in some way, you're better off leaving it behind.
"If I ever do retire and I'm sitting on the veranda in the rocking chair, thinking back on my life, it'll be like, how did I do that? The answer is so simple. I did it just by doing what I had to do each day."
Watch Australian Story's 'Never Too Late', 8:00pm, on ABCTV and ABC iview.
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2023-10-29 19:31:18Z
CBMiaGh0dHBzOi8vd3d3LmFiYy5uZXQuYXUvbmV3cy8yMDIzLTEwLTMwL29uY2UtaG9tZWxlc3MtZ3JlZ29yeS1zbWl0aC1maW5kcy1oYXBwaW5lc3MtbG92ZS1mYW1pbHkvMTAyOTA5MDg00gEoaHR0cHM6Ly9hbXAuYWJjLm5ldC5hdS9hcnRpY2xlLzEwMjkwOTA4NA
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