Well, of all the unlikely places… there was a time, admittedly a while back, when you could walk along Cashel Street and know most everyone you saw - related, school, leading citizen, casual acquaintance. These days it is a bit bigger and full of new faces. Lots of work following the earthquakes and rebuild. Friday’s shooting has set the country back on its heels. To those of us who remember the town as it was there seems to be a heightened reaction - anger for starters. What a bloody awful thing.
I remember a CHCH like that Murray, and with my old man having a service station, workshop and car sales there wasnt a lot I could do without it getting back to him. One instance… I had an old Desoto with running boards and cobbers & I went cruising one night playing american gangsters standing on the running boards (you young ones wouldnt know the fun these were) A local bobby stopped us and after about 4 questions, looks at me “Your Jack Mcxxxxxs son arent you?”
‘yes sir’ I answer…after a few more laying down the stupidity of it he’s off.
Later that night I duly arrive home, dad asks if we enjoyed ourselves etc etc everyday banter, then asks to see my drivers licence. drrr stupid innocent me hands it over and his reply, Sergeant John phoned me, you get this back in 3 months…WTF.
But yeah when over there last year I was stunned at the multi cultural faces where ever I went.
I grew up in a community like the one you describe, Murray. This was back in England. Even had a similar incident to the one Tonto describes with a local cop giving me a bollocking for driving like a dickhead and making sure my dad knew about it. That was in the late 1960s. I just tried to imagine what it would feel like to have some insane barbarian murder a bunch of innocent people in my home town. You’ve put it into perspective for me, Murray. And it stopped me in my tracks.