THERE'S a major event in town. Locals have worked for months to get it organised.
They've formed a committee, written submissions for funding, gone along to stand next to the pollies to accept the grant cheque, come up with a program, booked the venue, set up a booking process, written, edited and published flyers, promoted the event in newspapers and on radio, had brochures made up, spruiked it as much as they can.
They've set a menu, confirmed numbers, finalised the catering, organised the speakers/entertainers/special guests, booked the sound system and microphones, organised the lighting and briefed an MC.
The day dawns.
They arrive early, just to make sure everything's in place.
This is big. This is the event they've worked towards for months.
For this, the organisers, all volunteers, have fielded and made hundreds of phone calls, they've attended endless meetings, schmoozed where appropriate, driven miles to get equipment, made last-minute dashes for this and that.
They've given hours of time away from their farms and home businesses or off-farm jobs.
Along the way they've had lots of fun, but not without some pressure, pursed lips, occasional cross words and grumpiness. Mary thinks it should be done this way, while Sally thinks it should be done differently.
In the end, esprit de corp defeats dissatisfaction and everyone happily compromises.
After all, this is the event everyone wants to happen; it'll be good for the town, it'll bring people there to spend money to stay a while, maybe even to develop interest enough to return.
Maybe it'll help stimulate local thinking, spark new ideas, new projects, build the community.
The organisers have scouted and searched and researched and chosen guest speakers who will be fabulous.
They've invited the creme de la creme on the topic, The Big Drawcard, The Expert, The Big Name, the $5000 Big Gig.
S/he might be from a telly or radio station or from Big Business, or have done something marvellous.
But it's worth every red cent if they can get The Big Name.
The Big Name arrives, is polite and does a wonderful job at the podium.
The audience is delighted.
They've laughed, learnt things, been inspired, had a great time.
The event ends.
The organising committee, polite, grateful and exhausted, delivers the thank-yous. Proudly, from behind the curtain of the town hall stage or from beneath the podium, they present gifts, great baskets of local produce or vast floral arrangements.
They are so grateful that Their Big Name has deigned to touch them with Her/His Presence. Never mind the cheque The Big Name has received for doing it.
Then The Big Name, who's touched down for a few hours and presented a talk she or he has given maybe a dozen or so times, gets in her or his car and leaves.
The voluntary organising committee meanwhile cleans up the venue, meets again, does the work to acquit the grant and ties up the loose ends.
For them, there are no bunches of flowers, no baskets bulging with goodies, no gracious presentations and appreciative speeches. Just the experience and joy and struggle of doing something they believe worthy for their community.
I see this happen so often in rural towns and communities.
Maybe The Big Names could remember it some time and bring a gift for the organisers.
