IT’S Easter again.
Seems like Christmas was only last week.
But more importantly, for me, next week it’s also Anzac Day.
And before you put your foot right in it, please don’t tell me how excited you are to have so many public holidays running back to back – and how with some judicious use of a sickie here and there, and the odd day off, you can turn the next 10 days into a run of holiday from heaven.
Not sure that’s what Easter was about, definitely positive Anzac Day has absolutely nothing to do with you doing nothing.
In the Whacker’s family there is a proud, albeit sad, legacy of service.
Of family members who went to both World Wars, to Korea and, almost but not quite, to Vietnam.
Some never came home, two who did make it back were never really the same again (although I’m told one was a little odd long before he went overseas) and even my old grandad, who got a bit shot up on the Western Front, never really got to be my ‘old’ grandad, he died because his body never recovered, leaving my sainted grandmother alone for the next 30-odd years.
Where this is all taking me, however, is some of the politicians in my part of the world.
Now you well know where I sit with our elected representatives – they range from bloody useless and self-serving (most of them) to the rare few who actually try and get something done.
They, unfortunately, also tend to get ostracised by the system because neither the rest of the pollies nor the public servants (who only ever serve themselves) are interested in anything to progressive taking place.
But in this case these locals, who just happen to be members of the Country Party – sorry, but for me it will always be Country Party, I mean what the hell does The Nationals mean in state politics? – are, and it may well be accidentally, doing something useful.
They have come up with a program to take a group of Year 11 students on a ‘pilgrimage’ to the Kokoda each year.
There the pampered little preciouses will walk the legendary track for nine days, being immersed in the story of the small group of Aussies who contributed to the first land defeat of Japanese forces in World War II.
It is a heroic but bloody tale, but also a lesson well worth remembering in a war which is now three generations past and with which very few young Australians have any connection – let alone understanding.
As someone who proudly wore a collection of family medals to Anzac Days at school – because, as you would expect, I was the premier member for the family, and it was only right I should be the senior representative – it has encouraged me that numbers for Dawn Services, marches and commemorative services are seemingly rising every year.
I’ll be at the local Dawn Service this year but can report one of the grandsons will be wearing the family medals this year.
After all, I always prefer being in the background.
None of the offspring are in Year 11 this year, but a couple will be there in 2026 so I have pointed out to them if the local MPs manage to stay focused long enough to offer these opportunities then, they should make sure they are at the head of the queue.
Naturally I have offered to help them with their applications, so they get the job done right the first time.
I will keep the words plain and simple, after all, they will be read by politicians and will be delighted when they are duly selected to represent their families and their schools.
I have met two of the kids who walked last year, and there is little doubt it proved a magical occasion for them – their faces lit up when they were telling me about it and how they made so many new friends, and how it has made them want to know more, by reading more.
Crikey, that’s a good enough result on its own, a student who wants to know more, and wants to read more.
Who’d believe it.
Lest We Forget.
