I Love a Parade

 

I Love a Parade

What would Memorial Day be without a parade, so there I was just a few yards away from the curb watching one direction for the paraders to begin and watching the other direction as a huge, black cloud crawled from the horizon towards the six block stretch of Cornwall Avenue where a great number of otherwise normal adults had gathered to watch their children and grandchildren walk, bike, trike or scooter past. I was there to watch four year old Ryanne, who after less than three months in gymnastics class had demonstrated preternatural athletic ability. She was going to march with Bellingham Bay Gymnastics preschool in the kiddy parade, and since we live in Bellingham neither we nor the thousands of other spectators brought umbrellas just because the sky was overcast.

The big black rain cloud got to us before the parade did. Huge, cold, pelting raindrops washed down on us, and except for a very few who ran away (maybe a couple dozen) most of us stood our ground with no thought of leaving at all.

As the rain let up the parade began. There were three marching bands from the local middle schools which did an excellent job even though they were wet and cold just like everybody else. Since it was a kiddie parade, there isn’t any point in talking about the various entries, but I have to say I was disappointed in, if not down right embarrassed by the surprising number of old, fat princesses that marched along side the toddlers. I know there is no real age limit on princessness, but by age 20 you would think they would have a little better judgement as to what princesses should wear. I’m afraid I even saw a few princesses who were well past their third decade tricked out in pink tulle and tiaras. Princesses ranging in age from five to about forty trailed the public library’s dragon float. But don’t dragons eat princesses?

McDonald’s had a ‘float’ which was really just a big old van, and their mascot Ronald did not march, but rather just rode in the front seat, dry and happy. Various scout groups marched behind banners. Local schools and churches had marchers, scooters or motor vehicles in the parade.

Then finally came the gymnasts doing cartwheels and flips on the pavement- without gloves. These girls, perhaps as old as ten, had nice uniforms and performed practiced routines followed by a younger set who simply walked together. Ryanne’s group would be next. Yes there they were, what we had waited for in the freezing rain, wet, bedraggled four and five year old girls in their Bellingham Bay Gymnastic tee shirts. Walking down the street. Not marching or waving or having any fun at all, but just walking. They were out of sight in less than fifteen seconds.

I think parades are more about remembering the event rather than the event itself.

Nancy Sherer

 

 


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