How do I know there’s still a bit of a kid in me? I still love a parade.
Last weekend was the Nevada Day parade. Like all parades, it’s unique. It goes on forever, over four hours. I think spectators must jump out of their folding chairs and join the back of the parade as it passes. It’s so Nevada: gorgeous horses, lots of cowboys and cowgirls, cute kids on bikes decorated with crepe paper, and folks running for political office riding in the back of shiny convertibles, waving while still attempting to look official.
I remember past parades. The VEISHEA parade at Iowa State University seemed so magical when I was a little boy (sadly discontinued after a riot in 2014). The Richland Center parade in Wisconsin mirrored the joyous, proud features of thousands of tiny communities throughout the U.S. And the Rose Bowl parade has been televised for many years, with floats made of flowers and thousands of spectators lining the streets for over five miles.
Last month, I was in the Lyons Township High School homecoming parade as part of being honored for entering the LTHS Hall of Fame. At age 80, for the first time, I was actually in the parade. I threw candy from a convertible to little children while trying to hide the tears of joy that welled up in me.
What’s your favorite parade memory?
Hidden treasures