Parade Day

Parade Day
by
Rev. Lonnie C. Crowe

Excitement sparkles!
It’s Parade Day–
For children and
Especially for elderly ladies
Who make a ritual of every day and concentrate all the
complicated convolutions of their musings
On Parade Day!

August–
Dry–
Searing–
Parade Day.

She usually doesn’t arise until nine
But
It’s Parade Day
And she’s up before seven
To prepare for the parade at 10.

We’ve claimed the same place for years–
One half block on the east side of Main Street
In front of the old hotel.

We’re there by nine.
We’re not the only early ones–
But all four of the others are on the west side of Main Street
Across from the old hotel.

We distribute the lawn chairs and cushions
From the corner to the light pole
And stake out places for ourselves, her two sisters, neighbors,
Children, in-laws and grandchildren.
We need half a block on the east side of Main Street
In front of the old hotel.

Vendors saunter by with ice cream and balloons.
We aren’t tempted;
We’ve locked our money in the trunk of the car–
Part of the ritual of Parade Day.

Then at ten-fifteen, the parade finds its way
To the street in front of the old hotel.
We watch city police cars, sheriff’s vehicles, the highway patrol,
Fire engines, fire engines and another fire engine, ambulances,
Convertibles with waving pseudo-celebrities
And the governor. (It’s an election year.)

She thinks it’s splendid.
I think it’s a good time to rob a bank or indulge in arson. 

The marching band steps forth in organized splendor
Followed by tiny baton twirlers and acrobats in bunny suits.
(One is wearing hiking boots.)

The Shriners have an automated camel,
And someone drives by in a beer can.

Floats with crooked lettering leave trails of crepe paper
and crumbled napkins.
Horse and horses leave a trail as well.

August–
Dry–
Searing–

A local station sponsors a group of logo-T-shirted youngsters
carrying radios tuned to a broadcast march.

And she’s delighted.
After all, it’s Parade Day.