Independence Day

Growing up I was never much of a fan of parades. First of all, sitting still for hours on end in the hot sun doesn’t thrill me, unless I have a rooting interest in a game I’m watching. Or a goodly supply of beer. Or both. But the idea of sitting idly on a street curb is not at all appealing. Let alone getting there early enough to get the curb seat and avoid having to stand the whole time. Now that I've reached my old age I toggle between antsyness (can't sit still long enough to watch much on TV) and complete inertness. I'm happy at times to lay down on the deck, floor or couch and just rest. But you can't do that on a parade route. In short, parades are not my thing. Maybe it’s because I was never in a marching band.

Yet we tend to be in a couple per year, three this year. In the parade mind you, not just watching. This was the case over the July Four weekend. Our neighborhood has an olde-tyme celebration complete with sack races and egg-tosses. This was the first time I was in attendance. The past couple of years I had found other/better things to do, but this time I was firmly roped. I am a full-fledged scoffer at small time parades, especially those geared to kids. I envision streamer paper taped to bikes. I get a full-on chuckle at this idea. It strikes me as ridiculous that anyone would think a couple of pieces of paper is festive, that these same people have the audacity to think others would want to stand around and watch such a poorly-decorated bike ride by, and that people actually do turn out in large numbers to just that. Crazy.

This went through my head at the Children’s Ski to Sea Parade. There were plenty of bikes in attendance, but there was one well apportioned wagon. It was trussed up to resemble a firework (sort of missile-like). An idea was born. Stolen, copied, what have you. We have a wagon and it could be decorated. Originally I thought we would attach some red, white and blue bunting to the sides, which would be vastly superior decorating I’m sure you’ll agree. But with the firework wagon we (ok, I) decided to up the ante.

We would make a rocket. I didn’t know how we’d do it, but those are mere details to be overcome with thought, planning, a bit of cussing and a lot of duct tape. Turns out spray paint is important, too. But you have to be eighteen to buy it. Ridiculous. Bricks are much cheaper and can do a lot more damage. Don’t mention that to your legislator, or you may need to show I.D. for those soon.

A trip to the Re-Store, a couple of turns through Home Depot, some hand tools and full half-hours of work later, and we had ourselves a pretty cool rocket. Actually it was great, awesome and really cool, depending on which passing kid you want to quote.

It looked pretty good in the back yard, especially after we added the USA (in red duct tape) and the flag (which may have flown over the capitol). Truth be told, the flag wasn’t added until the morning of the fourth and not until we got it out of the back yard. Which wasn’t difficult, wagon/rockets are not heavy but this one was bulky. It was too big to go through the gate so we had to lift it over. So when the flag was attached we stared at it with not a small amount of pride.

This pride diminished a bit on the way to the park. While we both thought the creation was fantastic neither of us really wanted to pull it in front of an audience. I used the term “hokey” whereas Kim thought it “dorky.” I tried to guilt Kim by saying she didn’t want to be associated with it, but she trumped me by pointing out that it was my idea. So I was trapped.

Our neighborhood parade lacks the nudists of Fremont and you won’t find anyone beaming with rainbow-festooned pride, but it makes up for it with unexpected numbers. Hundreds of people were there. So many that it stretched for blocks and left few in the area to act as spectators. True to form, there were paper emblazzoned bikes by the dozen, some with tin cans trailing behind, kids with aluminum foil on their heads (you got me), paper hats and home-made flags. There was even an unpracticed band in a pickup truck. God bless America!

We got to the park just in time. The organizers were exasperatingly vague with the start time. They claimed the festivities would begin with a picnic, with the parade starting after that. This sort of “planning” drives me nuts. But just as we started eating the head hippie (the one with the brightest tie-dyed tank top) came up to tell us how much he liked the rocket and asked us to be near the front of the parade. Kim couldn’t get to the front because a pack of middle school girls were firmly ensconced there with their razor scooters. They may have slept at the park to secure their position. They were certainly willing to fight to keep it. We let them have it. The pole position, not an assault.

The rocket received all kinds of praise and was easily the best, if not the only, “float” in attendance. We were told by many people, young and old, how much they liked it. With praise like this, I got Kim to do the pulling. We ended up trading off, since the route was much, much longer than either of us expected. Afterward the compliments kept coming; I even considered charging for rides. One mother did ask if here son could sit in it. Kim obliged even gave him a ride while the mom went in search of her camera.

We then finished our lunch and took part in some of the “traditional” games. I carried Lucas through a three-legged race, Kim ran tied to Niki, Lucas tried his hands in a wheelbarrow race with a friend from school, and finally Niki and I threw eggs at each other. All in all it was so much fun we will do it again next year. We may try converting the rocket to a shark. Or maybe something patriotic. Sharks are cool, though.