A Proud Townsperson
This is an article I wrote last year with the hopes of getting it published in the local newspaper. Long story short, the publication changed hands and I didn’t get a chance to have this one go to print. So rather than having it sit on my computer doing nothing I thought it would make sense to publish it here instead.
It’s a short read, but one I’m pretty happy with nearly a year on from when I initially wrote it. Also, a chance to show off young, sporty Brett!
Hope you enjoy.
There’s something intrinsically valuable about being part of a small community that I could never quite put my finger on until life forced me to look at my surroundings through a different lens.
I grew up in Kiama Downs, the son of a fireman and a real estate agent, and although I always viewed my Dad as my hero, off fighting fires in the big smoke, I attribute a lot of the person I am today to the amount of time I spent with my Mum. Through Mum’s work, I followed her around to countless open homes and was constantly subject to meeting people all over town throughout my childhood. Subsequently, I was always known as ‘Gail’s Son’. Having this connection to people locally made me realise very early on that in a small town, everybody knows everybody and is acutely aware of the goings on in each of their lives.
Whilst this has its drawbacks and often ‘small town syndrome’ leads to a lot of younger people wanting to leave so they can experience life differently (me included), there is always an allure to come back - And I’m glad I did.
2016 was the year my life changed forever and I’ve never quite found the way to bring this up casually in conversation but here’s my best shot. My favourite quote is “We all have two lives, and our second one begins when we realise we have just one life”. For me, the moment I realised I had just one life was when I woke up in a hospital bed, missing three quarters of my left quad after surviving a shark attack whilst surfing at one of my favourite beaches.
I bring this up because something I didn’t know at the time was how pivotal having a small, connected community would be in not only saving my life but also helping me through what was going to be my most difficult challenge on the road to recovery.
Whether it was support in the way of hospital visitors, text messages, Facebook posts or community fundraisers, I’ll never forget the moment it all hit me and I broke down in tears wondering what I did to deserve all of this. It took me a while, but I soon realised that what I was feeling at that moment was truly the impact of ‘small town syndrome’ in the most positive way possible. Whether we like it or not, being part of a small community means that our lives and actions do leave a mark and will have an impact on those around us. Sure, this can lead to some bickering on a local community page, but for the most part, it means that we’re there for one another.
The reason I write this article is as a thank you. This ‘second life’ has led me to reassess my purpose on this planet which is to use my story and my experience with the aim of helping others.
We all have the ability to uplift and inspire others no matter their situation and this is something I contribute directly to the words of support and encouragement that I received from this community when I needed it most.
There’s a lot to love about belonging to this small, seaside municipality. While the cafes and tourists may come and go, to me, it’s the constants that make me proud to live here.