And Then This Putz...

 Well, I'm pretty worked up about quite a few things lately, as one might expect.  

However, this putz hit the ball right out of the park - foul ball, that is.

For the record, here's the link to the article on CNN : https://www.cnn.com/2024/07/03/us/parades-independence-day-july-4-ijdgi-cec/index.html.  This poor, sad fellow has never had fun at a parade.

Yeah, I get it.  I'm warped.  When I was a little kid, the memories are still there of hopping onto the back gate of the station wagon with my dad, and watching the parade pass by.  Back in those days, when the American Flag passed, you got your ass up, your hat came off, and you stood at attention.  Every damned time.  

But back then it was usually not only showing respect for the flag, but also showing respect for those who carried it.  Often they were older men who had been soldiers.  Most of the early parades I remember are from the late 1960s into the early 1970s.  Fourth of July, every one of them.  And they all had very similar composition.  There'd be the opening flag unit, which was almost always preceded by a police car or police motorcycle or six, flashing lights, occasionally whooping the siren to get people out of the way, because here comes the parade.  

After the flag unit there was usually a vehicle - depended on the year, sometimes it was a classic car, sometimes it was a big old tractor, truck, or something that had been pretty well cleaned and shined up for the special day in front of everyone.  The vehicle would slowly move down the street, utterly constrained by the speed at which the flag unit moved.  And it would be full of people - the folks who helped plan, sponsor, or put on the parade, the mayor and his family, the city council, whatever, whomever.

Then there'd be the fire department trucks, all shined up with the lights going, occasionally sirens.  If it was bleeping hot, maybe the fire truck would be spraying - GENTLY - the crowd.  That was the first place I ever recalled seeing these backpack fire extinguishers - and I learned that they had filled the tanks with ice, first - five to ten pounds of it - then water. That was nice and cool.  

There would always be the float with "royalty" - the local celebration's royalty, others from other surrounding communities - because if they showed up in your parade, then you'd have to show up in theirs.  It was all about promoting community.  

There would almost always be the local car collectors, rolling out their best, favorite, nicest looking old cars.  There may be the local farm machinery retailers, farmers who collected and kept running various old odd bits of kit, and then there would be the local Kids dance studios or after school places.  There would be local sports teams, showing off their uniforms, hardware, and quite possibly recruiting. There would almost always be 4H groups leading animals, or on floats with them, or other projects.  

There would also be civic groups - Shriners, Rotarians, Lions, or any other civic groups.  These weren't to get mixed up with the VFW, Legion, or other military organizations.  There would almost always be a few floats with military hardware - guns, tanks, boat replicas, or airplanes.  I recall one year seeing a one-half scale Phantom 4F model a guy had built on the back of a flatbed semi trailer.  It was huge - and it was only half size!  There was also the Aircraft Carrier model that the sign on the trailer said 1/40th scale.  It was over 25 feet long.  That's when it hit me, how big those ships were that were picking up Astronauts!

And then, of course, there were always some animals on parade.  Horses almost always made an appearance, along with, one hoped, anyway, the folks who had the very worst job in the parade, cleaning up after the animals.

Yeah, I saved the best for last.  You felt and heard them before you saw them.  I can still remember sitting on the back of the forest green Ford Station Wagon, feeling the thump in my chest.  It was odd, unusual, a little discomforting.  I stood on the tailgate, to see over the crowd, and saw flags.  Then they came closer.  And the thump matched the man who was pounding on this big round thing he was strapped to - a big old drum.  I'd never seen one like that before.  

And yes, back in the day, every little town had a marching band.  And every big town had a half-dozen.  Back when I was in High School, we had three high schools in St. Cloud - St. Cloud Tech, St. Cloud Apollo, and Cathedral.  We also had Sartell and Sauk Rapids nearby, then there was always Monticello, about 40 miles down the road, and later Becker, Holdingford, Foley, Milaca, Albany, Sauk Centre, and our worst rival, Long Prairie.  

But Marching Bands.  There would be drums playing all the time, then the music would start.  You'd hear little parts of it, but it was pretty neat.  

And what I remember from those parades, most strongly, is that I saw a lot of smiles.  There was the occasional frown when someone would see an old car they had a better example of in the garage (they said), or the occasional scowl on some older kid's face when a military unit went past.  You have to remember this was during the Vietnam War.  But parades were always fun, always happy things.  

Tomorrow marks the 42nd year since I last marched in the St. Joe 4th of July parade.  It was, for us, considered to be "The Home Town Parade".  St. Cloud was trying to get a local festival started, and did, in fact, have one of the first Wings, Wheels, and Water (which we corrupted to Wings, Wheels, and Wombats) celebrations while I was still in band.  But St. Joe, we always went all out, tried our damnedest to win, and we did often.

I can tell you though that I think a lot of us were pretty damned intimidated by the Monticello Marching Band.  Instead of a color guard full of flags, they had ... well, to fourteen-year-old eyes, they had a group of mid-twenties women wearing leotards with long sleeves which were covered in burgundy sequins, very flashy.  They wore knee-high black boots, heavy makeup, and carried shields which each had a letter of the city name on them.  I know they were high school girls, back then, but boy, there wasn't a one of us guys that could do anything other than break out in full dork when they showed up.  Yeah, intimidating.

Long Prairie was another matter entirely.  I know that the band uniforms we used when I was at Cathedral were older.  They were in relatively good repair, but black wool pants, black suit coats, and gold-and-white overlays.  This was topped off by a big old Shako hat - think British Changing of the Guard ceremony hats.  We looked professional, if a bit dated.  Long Prairie held one hell of a fundraiser and bought new uniforms the first year I was in band.  Theirs turned them all into little toy soldiers.  A few years later, we saw them on TV on Thanksgiving day, the Macy's parade - and everyone had rosy dots on their cheeks.  

We were two of the top bands in the state back then, we duked it out regularly.  And we both won our fair share of trophies.  

But I can tell you anyone who was miserable at a parade never felt the excitement of an approaching marching band, never watched for a relative in the parade.  And these days, never scrambled for candy thrown from floats and vehicles, either.  

Or maybe they lost family members in a tragedy that took over a parade.  I get it.  But I do feel sorry for people who never had that sense of joy when the parade came to town.