The $3.00 buys more than a pen. It buys John his dignity, his independence and the pleasure of being with people. It buys a good feeling for the purchaser, knowing they are helping someone in need, and it buys the House with No Steps funds to continue its work. It could well be the best value you will get for $3.00 anywhere in Australia.

John's Italian father was a barber in the Blue Mountains. Up to 12 he was a normal healthy boy, one of a family of 7; two brothers, two sisters, Mum and Dad, oh yes, and Grandad made 8, though he only lived with them for a few years after his leg was amputated by a train. That sort of thing happens to a man who stands on the track to stop the train

John's mother was a remarkable woman. Her father was legless in more ways than the one, but she coped with him, her five children, and her husband in conditions modern women would find daunting. She was probably exhausted, but all women were exhausted in the years after the war, before electrical this and that eased the load of domesticity.

Then her youngest son came off his bike. One minute a lively, mischievous lad, the next lying comatose in a hospital bed for months. It didn't help to say he shouldn't have been riding 'two up' on the roads, the fact was the boy they knew was changed forever.

At 19 he left the family home and went to Sydney. A challenge for a young man barely able to walk, whose arms twist and who has to work at his speech. John wasn't one to say can't. He could. And did.

In Sydney he worked at a workshop called Northcott Industries. Northcott Industries do a lot for the disabled, as do many other workshops, providing work and the associated money, social contact and pride. Many stay with them through their working life, but after 13 years, John was restless.

"Then there was the one opposite an Early Opener. You remember them. They used to open at 6.30 in the morning, and even before then some people would be banging on the doors. I did my own washing. I'd soak my stuff in Cold Power in a bucket and in the morning I'd rinse it off and hang it on the line." He burst into laughter. "Sometimes when I came home from work it had all gone. Drunk people from the pub would take it".

Now he lives at Cherrywood village.

Day-workers come in to help. "You don't always get your own clothes back. Sometimes the people who bring it round can't read the labels". He grins at his joke. "I've got it made. I really like it there".

His two brothers and two sisters still live in New South Wales. All of them have large families. He is uncle to 22.

"Mum's gone now". For the first time a cloud passes his eyes. Then someone stops for a pen, and his sun shines again.

You will find John Boccanfuso in the Penrith Plaza every week day to mid day. On his table is a letter signed by Ross Fowler, who was Mayor of Penrith in January 1996. It says that John Boccanfuso's hard work and dedication has led to achievements that are a fine example our young citizens would do well to follow, and gives congratulations on behalf of the citizens of Penrith.