Next day I took the 2:30 train from Sydney Central Station, after leaving my trunk at the hotel and riding around the city. My destination was Morisset, from where it was only a four-mile bicycle ride to Avondale and Gordon. I was eagerly looking forward to this, for I had not seen Gordon for several years, and the pictures he had periodically sent to me showed him to be no longer the early teen-age boy, light-hearted and full of boyish fun, but an eighteen-year-old young man, handsome, and settling into serious studies and future purpose for life. We were always very close as brothers and loved each other. I really had nothing more in mind than a temporary visit. My idea was to return to Sydney, find a job for a short time, then go out to join my father.
On my way in the train I saw a simple and attractive way to add to my meagre finances. Three men were playing with a dried pea under two walnut shells. All I had to do was to point to the shell under which the pea was hidden and I would double my money. This was a give-away, for I saw the pea disappear under this one. However, when the man lifted the shell the pea was under the other one. I tried this a number of times until I had almost an empty pocket, all but half a crown, or about half a dollar. The train stopped at Morisset, I retrieved my bicycle from the guard’s van, and feeling rather stupid and financially light, I took the road to the college.
I was not too worried, for I was young and free and felt that I could find work and soon forget the loss. It was a dirt road with plenty of rough spots, but I was exhilarated and anxious to see Gordon. After a couple of miles I recognized the white college buildings showing through the forest trees. I still remember the thrill it gave me, for there were the very buildings Howard used to photograph and send to me. Howard Totenhofer was a good photographer for those days and kept me well posted on college scenes. Over in Tasmania these buildings had seemed so distant and unreachable that the college was like the New Jerusalem to me. But now here was the real thing, and here was I, a wandering, homeless unsophisticated youth approaching home, feeling that I had a stake in this place, even though my future was uncertain.
Gordon knew nothing of my coming, though he told me that he had prayed a great deal about me and that I should come to Avondale. It was then known as “The Australasian Missionary College”. On riding down the campus road from Cooranbong village I felt that I was entering a new world, unrelated to the lonely struggles of my Tasmanian experiences. A young lad of about 15 in short pants was walking down the dirt side-walk. We exchanged names and X asked him if he knew Gordon Brandstater. He was Reuben Shannon. “Oh yes, of course. He is down in the factory and I will take you to him”, he said. So we walked down to the factory together to meet Gordon. To meet him after these years, now a handsome young man, loaded with potential, my boyhood brother grown up, was the most moving meeting of my young life. We were affectionate brothers and always wanted to be together.
