Happy 4th of July everyone! I hope you have a great, relaxing day planned. We start ours by going to the parade in the morning (weather permitting), and to be honest, I’d be happy to end it there. Here in Fairfax, VA the parade is a big production, with seven divisions featuring major political candidates, beauty pageant winners, bagpipers, parade balloons, marching bands, and of course, all the Shriners you can handle. The parade will be followed by the World Police and Fire Games Fire Fighter Muster where about 140 fire fighters will be demonstrating the classics like the Bucket Brigade. The Games themselves started on June 26 and will conclude July 5th, and according to the city website:
The World Police & Fire Games is one of the largest multi-sport, multi-venue events in the world. It draws more than 12,000 athletes from police, fire and other public safety agencies representing 70 countries competing in 1,600 medal events across 40 sports.
Here’s a dramatic advertisement for the Games:
So it’s kind of busy around here.
When we want a more peaceful 4th, we head to our cabin in West Virginia, where we haul ourselves out to the dusty edge of Route 9 at 6pm to stand in the hot sun and enjoy a genuine small town celebration. It’s called The Fireman’s Parade, and it features a long line of fire trucks from the region. In between the trucks there are tiny, sweaty majorettes, cub scouts on bikes, and very relaxed country gents in classic cars. I don’t remember ever seeing a band in the parade, but sometimes there is a boom box truck for the kids to do their routines. One year there was a very large woman in antebellum costume being pulled in a cart by a tiny horse. I hope never to see her again, if only for the tiny horse’s sake.
Anyway, when the parade’s done I’m done, no matter where we are. I’m not a fireworks person; I get too anxious waiting for it to get dark enough, and on more than one occasion I’ve been to displays that ended badly. In contrast, a parade is a low risk/low tech/high thrill entertainment: If the nine year old catches the baton, the crowd goes wild. If someone walks by with a dog in a tutu, the crowd goes wild. If a lawyer in a town car convertible tosses out tootsie rolls, the crowd goes wild (well, a little wild until the next lawyer comes by in a jag, whipping jolly ranchers to the curb). My point is, it’s a unique joy to see your neighbors—even the ones who are wicked rats the rest of the year—strutting their stuff and soaking up the attention. For many of us, this is as close as we get to fame.
Peace, Love, and Tiny Flags—
LES