Who Doesn't Love a Parade?

Some of you may not know this but yesterday was a local holiday.

It's the day when the majority religion in these here parts celebrate their arrival in this valley.  They call it Pioneer Day.  And might I put forth that some of them celebrate this holiday with more gusto, more vim and vigor than they do our countries Independence Day.  That's pretty much why we have had fireworks going off in the neighborhood since the end of June.

Despite yesterday being the official day they are celebrating today with parades all over the state.  (Our State's unofficial motto is "Never on Sunday").

So. . . yeah . . . who doesn't love a parade?

Don't get me wrong as a kid I couldn't wait to see the parade, the anticipation building, the excitement barely contained as I waited to get that first glimpse of glued and papered glory . . . and the chance to load up on salt water taffy that was sometimes hurled from the floats, kid nirvana.

But now the prospect of standing and/or sitting for an hour or more in the hot humid sun, while vying for position with the crowds for a clear view on the shady side of the street is not appealing.  The asphalt is radiating the heat of the day causing the thermometer to rise even higher and the sweat to trickle down our backs, while we watch extravagantly decorated motorized trailers covered with religious symbolism creep along the parade route interspersed with marching bands, hand carts, covered wagons, local dignitaries and certain religious leaders in vintage convertibles all pelting us with candy as they pass by.  Then there are the horses who leave behind meadow muffins on the pavement and the clowns with the super soakers spraying confetti into the crowd.  Inevitably despite my careful planning and packing of a bag with water bottles and sunscreen I leave it sitting at home on the kitchen counter.  I hide behind sunglasses in agony with a fake smile on my lips as the vein in my temple starts to pound in tempo with the passing marching band and my skin starts to turn a shade of red that only belongs on a buttered lobster and I have to keep reminding myself that we are doing this for our kids because we don't want to deny them the experience.

That's why when I heard that there was a parade float preview the other day in the large, well air conditioned exposition center I packed up the boys and went.

Wouldn't have missed it for the world.