Parades...past and present...

Last Saturday I went to the Magdalena Old Timer’s Reunion Parade. As I waited for it to begin, I began thinking about the variety of parades I have seen.  For sure the first parade I attended was in Fort Dodge, Iowa when I was about four years old.  The Barnum and Bailey Circus Train had come to town!  Mother woke us all up early, and drove us down to the train station, where the circus train was being unloaded – elephants were unloaded first so that they could help, along with the roustabouts, to unload the train of all its contents:  the circus tents, wagons, animals, cages, people, and everything that made the circus operate.  Horses were hooked up to some of the wagons, and off everything went to the circus grounds.  I am sure there were some trucks involved also.  The circus grounds weren’t very far from where we lived at 1859 8^th Avenue North.  After breakfast, my brothers went over to the fairgrounds to watch the elephants hoist up the tents.  This was a real honest to goodness three ring circus with sideshows.

About ten or eleven o’clock, I think, we got back into our car, and went downtown, where we found a good spot on Main Street to watch the parade.  What a parade it was.  Everyone in glittering costumes, beautiful women on the elephants and horses, good looking well-built men waving at us, the Calliope playing circus music, the circus band with the Ring Master in front leading everyone.  Cages full of animals – tigers and lions and such. The Fat Lady, the Thin Man, the Sword Swallower, the Tattooed Man, the Bearded Lady, and the little people.  All were there.  And of course, the clowns – everywhere - being clowns!  I think it was probably the best parade I have ever seen.  I don’t remember if we saw this parade the next year.  But I think so.

The next parade was  the Inauguration Parade for John F. Kennedy.  I was in Washington, DC at the time, and I remember it being cold with a little snow on the ground.  One flake of snow was enough to shut down the government, and for people to leave their cars in the middle of the streets.  I remember going down Bob’s apartment and a bunch of us laughing because of the turmoil.  Snow was rare in those days, and men were hired to actually SWEEP Pennsylvania Avenue.  Abandoned cars were towed. Because of all the marching bands and baton twirlers in town for the event, there wasn’t one pair of tights to be found from DC to Baltimore.   I was excited because the Fort Dodge Senior High School band was marching, and my best friend’s brother, Ron, was playing in it.  JFK and Jackie walked and waved to the crowds who just went crazy.  Then they left the parade to sit at the reviewing area to watch the rest of the parade. It was a long parade, with every state represented by some kind of float and/or marching band.  But I can say, that it was COLD!

Then there were the 4^th of July parades in Sudbury, Massachusetts.  We went to nearly every one of them over 27 years, but I think of the first ones with more fondness than the latter ones.  Every fire truck in Sudbury, and from all the surrounding towns came  first with their sirens going full force.  You had to plug your ears as they slowly drove by!  I remember in 1972, we were all in the parking lot of Our Lady of Fatima Catholic Church.  Philip was not even a month old, and unbelievably he slept soundly through the cacophony of about twenty or twenty-five fire engines.  I couldn’t believe it, nor could anyone else.

After the fire engines came floats, bands, Miss Sudbury, the officials of Sudbury, more floats, bands, and politicians.   There were beautiful old cars and trucks.  More floats, members of the Armed Forces, Scottish Bagpipers in their kilts, and then Sudbury’s Minutemen, a rowdy group of Revolutionary War re-enactors, walking along in period dress, fifers and drummers playing in front, with wives and girlfriends and children, in period dress behind them.  Hanging from every man’s belt, was their flask, filled with rum, in most cases.  Every once in a while, their captain would shout an order, and each man carrying a musket would load the musket, and when FIRE was called, all the muskets went off.  The children in the crowd loved this, and waited with baited breath until the Minutemen showed up.  The final groups in the parade were always the horses and their riders, with the Wayside Inn’s ancient stagecoach hitched to Clydesdales.  A beautiful sight to behold.

When the Peace Corps was celebrating its 25^th Anniversary, Bob and I drove to Washington, DC, to reunite with his Dominican Republic buddies and celebrate.  We listened to speeches in front of the Lincoln Memorial and then gathered by year of service and country, to march across the Memorial Bridge over the Potomac River to Arlington National Cemetery and JFK’s grave.  We were a rowdy group when crossing, but when we came to the cemetery gates, silence prevailed.  It is such hallowed ground.  At JFK’s grave, a wreath was placed, a prayer was said, and many of us wept silent tears for the loss of such a great person.  I still cry when I think about him.

We went into Southie once, in Boston, to watch the St. Patrick’s Day parade.  We brought the kids, and some friends.  This was one of the loudest parades I have seen.   Bands playing great Irish music, Irish dancers step dancing, various Irish society floats, lots and lots of politicians being Irish for the day, bedecked with green shamrocks, leprechaun hats, pins and drinking green beer or Guiness.

When my sister Judy came for her very last visit to Sudbury, she wanted to go in to see the 4^th of July parade in Boston, then have some chowder, and walk over to the Charles River and the Esplanade to listen to the Boston Pops and watch the fireworks display afterwards.   That was probably the shortest parade I have ever seen.   Near Faneuil Hall marched a couple of drummers, flag bearers, and some men dressed as Revolutionary War officers.  They stopped in front of Faneuil Hall.  One of the officers unrolled a parchment and read THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE, and that was the end.  I must say that the Chowder Festival was great, and of course, the Boston Pops and the fireworks on the Charles River are something everyone should see at least once in their lifetimes.

In Elkton, Virginia, the parades were held either during Elkton Days or the 4^th of July.  I really can’t remember.  But I can tell you; they were also different in some respects.  Every business in town and in the surrounding areas had polished up their trucks and large equipment and had them in the parade, following the fire trucks, police cars, and emergency vehicles.  The parade went up Spotswood Trail, to the town section of Route 340, and on to the baseball fields.  There were bands, floats, horses, politicians, and vintage cars.  But three things were different.  Not only was there a Miss Sudbury, but there was a Little Miss Elkton, and a Little Mister Elkton.  Young children in beauty pageants were a big thing around there.  Second, there were five or six marching baton groups.  Within each group by age there were tiny kids to teenagers.  The third difference from other parades I had witnessed in the past was the incredible amount of candy thrown from every single vehicle and float in the parade.  The children had plastic grocery bags to hold the candy.  I saw many kids with nearly full bags!  It was like Halloween!  The dentists were going to have a field day.

I can’t leave out all the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parades and Rose Bowl parades that I have never attended, but avidly watched on television, until I just stopped watching them.  More fun to attend real live parades.

Now in Magdalena last Saturday, the parade also had its differences.  First the crowd was parked off the highway, which is the main street of the town, but parallel to each other. 

Matilda and I slipped in between two cars, facing a house not the street.  I opened up the back and sat on the door.  Perfect location, not in full sun, with my water and camera in hand.  Next to me was a family with three or four children, one of who was a chubby faced beautiful little girl only three months old. 

Her cheeks were the kind you just want to grab. I loved her cradle board which her mother put her in at the end of the parade.  I believe all were from the Navaho Pueblo just outside of Magdalena.  Next to them was another family of four children, two of which had tiny dogs. 

They too were Navaho. Dine is their native language. The Navaho are a beautiful people with smooth skin and coal black hair. 

The crowd ran the gamut of interesting faces and people – from Native American to old cowboys, bent over with years of working the range, and wizened old women, wrinkled by years in the sun.  Young girls walked up and down the street wearing short shorts and tees that showed everything and strutting their stuff.  Young men were doing the same thing.  Kids sat on the ground playing with the gravel, waiting for the parade to begin.  There were only one or two vendors selling their wares to susceptible parents. 

Many of the younger native American men in black shirts, tattoos on their arms, scarves on their heads, shouted back and forth to each other, in their native tongue, and then lapsed into English. 

A man came up to me and asked me if I liked cowboy music.  He was carrying a guitar case and had CD’s in his other hand.  He gave me his card, and then went off down the road.  

The parade started with the usual police cars, which wove around the parade route throwing hands full of candy out the windows.  Then came the Magdalena Volunteer Fire trucks, with the men in them throwing candy.  They got a lot of applause from everyone, as they have been busy in the past month putting out forest fires quite near to Magdalena.

In fact this cute couple was perhaps the only entry in the parade that didn’t have candy to toss into the crowd.

There were many different groups riding horses. Some of the horses had their manes and tails all decorated. There was to be a rodeo in the afternoon and all day Sunday.  The horses were, without exception, absolutely beautiful.  All ridden in the Western style, of course. 

There were many different floats.

  The Old Timer’s Queen was 83 years old.  I loved it. 

 The Alamo Pueblo had several entries.

And of course there were the ever-present politicians. But my kind!

The funniest entry was The Stool Bus.  Especially the very end of it. 

There was also a quasi-stagecoach pulled by two beautiful mules. 

There were no bands, but there was a group of men playing bluegrass and cowboy songs on a float...unfortunately the sign is for a Republican!!!!

On my way to Magdalena, I passed some old cars and I knew they were in the parade, and there they were...

This is a beautiful old car.  You don't see many of these...

This was definitely a country parade with everyone knowing someone in the parade.  Even I recognized a couple of people I knew.  I will say that there were a few groups in the parade who handed out small bottles of water, those ice stick thingies and small Frisbees.  But by and large, most of the largesse given out was candy.  And lots of it!!

I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of that parade.  It was hometown in every aspect.  After I said goodbye to a friend who sat with me, I drove over to the Magdalena Café, which was bursting at the seams.  But there was a table for eight, with three people at it.  So I introduced myself and sat down.  Another couple and small child came in, and we all asked them to join us.  I had a green chile bean burrito and was it ever good!  And for dessert I had fresh out of the oven blueberry pie.  Not a la mode, either. Pie is a big thing in these parts, and there is hardly a restaurant from Socorro to Quemado to Las Cruces to Albuquerque, that if they sell pie, it is homemade and wonderful.  After having some great conversations with the others at the table, I said my goodbyes, and Matilda and I drove back to Lemitar, smiling.

Life is good!

I love you all,

Sally