
28/06/2025
Being a builder has given me more than just a trade. It’s given me access to people. Real people. Families with stories, values, and wisdom you can’t learn from a book.
One of those people was a man named Clem. I was building a house for his son—an engineer—on the land next door, part of the family farm. Clem was in his 80s at the time. Every morning, without fail, he’d come over with a grin and a cheerful “Good morning everybody!” like it was the best day of his life.
He had a couple of sayings that stuck with me:
👉 “Better to wear out than rust out.”
👉 “Everything happens for a reason.”
Over a decade later, I still hear them in my head.
Clem had a life rooted in purpose. He ran a farm on the flats along the river at Raymond Terrace—grew barley, put it on the punt, and sent it down to Pitt Street in Sydney. Old school. Had 10 kids. One daughter had MS, and Clem put a lift in his two-storey house just for her—never used it for himself. He took the steep stairs every day.
And get this: every one of his kids ended up with a farm of their own. That was his goal. He worked hard, did well in business, and made it happen. Not for ego, not for show. For family.
But here’s what we missed back then:
I’d be willing to bet every single one of those kids also went on to university—and made something of themselves. Because Clem didn’t just build a life for them…
He built them.
And this is the part I keep coming back to:
When you build your life around your family—when they are your reason—it brings alignment. It brings drive. And it shows in your work.
Too often, we see the other side. Chasing money. Kids pushed aside, handed off to daycares, given things instead of time. Some call it spoiling. Others quietly call it what it is—neglect. Because children need presence. Connection. That’s what shapes them.
Clem’s story reminds me that the best innovation doesn’t always come from flashy ideas—it comes from deep roots. From caring. From being all in for your family. And when you’re surrounded by that—when you’re building not just a house, but a legacy—it shows. In every nail. Every conversation. Every morning greeting.
Even in his 70s, Clem nearly lost his arm to a PTO accident on the tractor. Shirt got caught. Tore skin, muscle—nearly cost him his life. But not Clem. He healed, got back up, and kept going. Because like he said:
Everything happens for a reason.
We need more people like Clem. More families like his. And more builders who can see not just the structure, but the soul behind it.