He said he'd meet me in the lobby, we would have breakfast with the others and then head across to the exhibition centre. When I showed up, he was surprised, looking me up and down, he exclaimed, "But, you're a girl!" We had spoken on the phone a week earlier, one of us in Australia, one of us in New Zealand, and we had made plans. First would be the Dairy Convention in Tianjin, then we would go inspect some quarantine facilities on behalf of the New Zealand Government. He would show me a side of live export that I'd not seen before, and I'd see it through his knowledgeable eyes. Jim was a stalwart of the industry, a man whose involvement had spanned over 50 years. His hard won knowledge on cattle health, welfare, wellbeing, design and educating others was highly valuable to a young person with an appetite to know more. I knew I was fortunate. And so began our adventures in China together. We stayed at the Crowne Plaza in Tianjin, and then at the Kunlun in Beijing, and then a bunch of other hotels in port side cities. One morning I brought Jim up a Starbucks coffee, and found him poring over designs, yards, unloading ramps, windbreaks for breeder cattle in Russia, all measured and drawn by hand with side and bird's eye views. "You see here, young Alex, if we move this gate from here to here, back only a metre, then the cattle will stop bottle-necking exiting this pen". Something so obvious but a simple change that needed explanation to others, and always a worthwhile effort if it improves conditions for cattle, he said. When I cried to him about the state of 9 hospitalised heifers he said to me, "But Alex, that number is so few compared to the thousands that go successfully through the system". I had to hear that sentence more than once to see his point and adjust my perspective of the bigger picture. When seated next to each other on a flight within China, I showed Jim something that I was working on.. a series of knowledge booklets for the crews on the ships. He pulled out his early iPhone, raised his arms above my notebook on the tray table, and took pictures of my work. I felt proud. He was 83 when we met, and I, 32, but he would insist on wheeling my suitcase from every carousel to car in every airport we traversed. When I travelled to Dafeng to unload a ship, He messaged me in detail, on how to make cattle talkers for everyone to use. I cut up mineral lick feedbacks in the bathroom of my hotel, and affixed them to pieces of poly with ring clamps. I sent off pictures to Jim and received back praise, followed by his signature red rose emoji and prayer hands. Ever the gentleman, he took my dirty boots after discharging a ship one time, cleaned them and rubbed nugget into them, for protection and leather preservation. The nugget turned the boots a rouge red, changing the colour of the shoe, matching his own boots, and then wherever we would go, we would match. When I applied for a scholarship to study cattle handling styles around the world, he wrote me a reference, his words making my heart swell with pride. I read it whenever I need a boost of confidence. He showed me a text that he had sent my boss during a particular China trip. He said that we had only just started to touch the sides of my fertile brain, and he thanked Tom for giving us the time together. We kept in semi constant contact with each other, when not in China together, WhatsApp and WeChat our preferred conduit. If I was at sea I'd tell him of my cattle onboard, symptoms I was seeing, diseases I was diagnosing, extra curricular handling that I was doing. When I mentioned the curious case of intuition and feeling what others were feeling- a tingle in my left leg upon the discovery of a swollen near hind in an onboard Hereford heifer Jim said that I had a gift, and that made me happy. And while Jim was Australian, he lived in New Zealand, and we only knew each other in China. The closures of countries and airports didn't allow us to meet again after January 2020, and we relied upon monthly phone calls and fortnightly texts. When the company didn't renew my contract in 2021, Jim said, "that wouldn't have happened if I was younger". His words made me feel seen. When Jim got cancer, he was upbeat "I'll continue on with my natural medicine, Alex and I'll be fine, but there's fluid on my lungs and that doesn't look good". I wanted to fly to NZ to see him, but he said no. It might make things hard for him at home. Our communications dwindled, a long time between replies. One day I received a photo he sent of a bright light with no accompanying text. My gut told me to call my old boss, when my messages to Jim went unread. I intuitively knew that some had or was, happening. I couldn't work up the courage to text Tom. Months went by of unanswered texts, and then I read on an industry newsletter that at a recent event marking 50 years of operation the company celebrated the life of senior adviser, Jim Stewart. I sat on the step outside and cried. Deep down, I had known, but here it was, confirmed. I picked up my phone and sent him a final text. It has remained unread. "Rest in peace, Jim".
