Whanganui the unknown jewel in country’s crown
I came to realise that even if this is our home and very important to us, not everyone in our very small country knows much about this place or its history and contribution towards making our nation.
The other day I was looking over my columns from the past five years, starting with my first column about the mosque attacks. That was not supposed to be a column, just a letter to the editor about a truly horrendous event in our peaceful country, but a column it became.
It seems like yesterday since that awful day but so much has happened since then: Covid19, Ukraine, Gaza, Trump’s resurgence. Our poor old world - it just carries on, leaving us all to pick up the pieces of what happens either in our own lives or on the world stage.
There have been good things too. Grandchildren have arrived at last. Our son and dear daughter-in-law tied the knot. Both our kids now live nearby after years of living away from Whanganui. They have come home.
I really like writing about our town, its history, its remarkable stories. A town that has a glittering history of hard work, enterprise, strong positive people, genteelness, success and failure, and which grew into one of the largest urban populations in the country at one time.
A service centre for farming, a railway town, an industrial town, a place of culture and the arts. A town with a very proud sporting history. A town full of interesting stories.
Not enough is written about Whanganui. It is one of the most understated and, perhaps, unknown jewels in New Zealand’s crown. When I worked (horrible word), I was employed by a national corporation for many years. My day would often involve talking to colleagues in other parts of New Zealand. I was continually amazed that many either had not heard of Whanganui or, if they had, they had no idea where it was.
The first couple of times I thought the person was joking - but no, they were not. I came to realise that even if this is our home and very important to us, not everyone in our very small country knows much about this place or its history and contribution towards making our nation.
I suppose I enjoy going out of my way to fix that. Maybe people from out of town sometimes read my stuff and at least read something about Whanganui, enough to make them know where it is. Who knows, they may visit one day or even shift here.
Writing about the little things in life like milk in glass bottles, riding a bike on the footpath when it was a naughty thing to do, keeping an eye out for the traffic cops. Swimming in the river or other wild water, picking blackberries and eating the beautiful jam and jelly they are made into spread on fresh bread with butter. School lunches in brown paper bags with what was called by some a “school apple” usually a Cox’s orange.
The little stuff mostly from a happy childhood when the world was still a mad place but maybe not quite as mad as now. Stuff many of us can relate to with fond memories.
Writing about being an older bloke living with a retired nurse is always up for choice. When people live together for a lifetime, there are domestic rules, usually rules that one party in the deal never remembers or just does not take seriously. That always lends itself to interesting stories.
Things like using the door handle on the new fridge rather than grabbing the door just anywhere and opening it, leaving greasy fingermarks on the flash new silver lining.
Or remembering to drink water each day. Why is it that it takes all day to drink a couple of bottles of water but drinking a few cans of beer does not take very long at all?
About having a vegetable garden that supplements our diet these days when the price of vegies fluctuates so much.
The people who call to deliver our groceries or to fix things that break. Mostly I used to fix stuff around the house but nowadays I’d rather get someone in who does that. They’re usually interesting friendly people who like a chat.
All this influences what I like writing about - simple, everyday stuff.