Born in 1995

If you were born in 1995, Australia was in a reflective mood about its past and an optimistic one about its near future. The fiftieth anniversary of the end of the Second World War brought commemorations that were surprisingly emotional — the returned soldiers were old now, their stories suddenly urgent, the documentaries on the ABC bringing Kokoda and Tobruk and Changi into living rooms. The Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody had reported and the findings were sobering.

The republic debate was heating up — a constitutional convention was being planned, Keating pushing hard for change before 2001. John Howard was building towards his election challenge, sharp and persistent. The music was extraordinary: Powderfinger released their debut, the Superjesus were forming, Savage Garden were about to emerge.

Nick Cave's *Murder Ballads* was one of the great Australian albums. Australian cinema was having a moment: *Babe* — yes, the pig — was a genuine international phenomenon, and the pig was Australian, which mattered to people in a way that was hard to explain but real. The AFL Grand Final attracted record television audiences.

The beach was free and warm, the barbie was smoking, and the country was seven years from Sydney 2000 and working hard.