Easter around here is beautiful. It’s a time when you get to see, in one glorious street parade, many of the selfless people who make our district tick.
Every Easter Saturday since I was in nappies, the town has stopped to watch the SES, CFA, Surf Lifesaving Club and a gazillion other volunteers do a hero’s turn around the Canary Island Palms that grace the length of the main street.
Actually, pretty much any sober community member is welcome to participate and they do. We waved to senior citizens rolling along on their mobility scooters, children on tinsel-festooned cattle-trucks-cum-floats, a small contingent of electric cars trailing a “The future is electric” banner and even a colossal black horse prancing anxiously as the Caledonian Pipe Band wailed behind him.
It’s a reminder of the diversity of a town so small that your own geneaology is public knowledge.
It’s the kind of event where you recognise people your father knew and introduce your own children to old friends in the same way your parents once did.
The theme of this year’s parade may have been “Wings” but it only served to remind me of our roots.