Magrath is a little town situated between the coulees and grain fields of Southern Alberta. Tree-lined streets and flower beds in almost every yard have earned our town the title of The Garden City. Fifty-one weekends a year it is a quiet place, where friendly people wave at every car and going to the post office is a social event. But every summer, the little town of
There is a lot to be done before the big weekend. Phone calls and letters are exchanged to plan family and class reunions. Floats for the parade are created, numbers are prepared for the talent show and the evening program, families and friends practise for the annual softball tournament, and ride-on lawnmowers are tuned up for the big races. Beds are made ready for all the family and friends who are coming home.
The town crews put many hours into cleaning up the town, painting new lines on the roads, hanging flower baskets from the telephone poles and Canadian flags along Main Street. Families display flags in front of their homes and tend flower gardens with the greatest care. Everything must be just right.
Soon, the highly anticipated weekend arrives. Saturday morning people line the streets waiting for the parade to start. Some sit and enjoy watching the bustling folks around them. My sisters and I walk up and down the streets greeting familiar faces that we haven’t seen in months or years. The quiet town has been transformed.