Everyone loves a parade
By Melinda Wichmann
When I was a little kid, parades were different than they are now. Or maybe it was just the parades in the area where I grew up.
Wapello didn’t have a 4th of July parade but there were 4th of July parades in two nearby towns, Grandview and Morning Sun. The Grandview parade was in the morning. That was all fine and good. The Morning Sun parade was in the afternoon, which gave the asphalt and cement streets time to build up heat until it reached blast furnace temps.
Back in those days, parades had a “children’s division,” along with floats, bands, horses, antique cars and all that. The children’s division was sub-divided further, into historical characters, storybook characters, television characters and I don’t know what all else.
My mom and her sister (who both got the sewing gene that skipped me) were very adept at coming up with costumes for me to wear and walk in the parades in the children’s division, along with other kids whose moms were handy with a needle and thread.
Either my subconscious has blocked the memories or I’ve just plain forgotten (more than likely), but I can only remember a few of my costume themes. One year I was Old Mother Goose, complete with a plastic goose lawn ornament I carried along the parade route. Another year I was Betsy Ross and carried a replica of the American colonies’ first flag.
Several times I was an Indian princess. This was back in the very politically incorrect 1970s. The dog I had then, a beagle, patiently allowed herself to be hitched up to a miniature travois filled with several dolls dressed in presumably authentic Indian costume. Growing up in a town named after an Indian chief I figured I had some right to imitate Native Americans regardless of my northern European ancestry.
Occasionally, there would be a duplicate of whatever character I was portraying that year and we would stand and eye each other suspiciously, trying to decide who looked more authentic.
When my childhood parade experiences ended, my high school marching band experiences began. This was definitely an elevation in status, since the band marched at the front of the parade. Although the lowly woodwinds were relegated to the back of the formation, it was still better to be at the back of the front of the parade instead of trailing along in the children’s division.
We had a darn fine high school band, although I must admit my own music talent probably didn’t contribute much. What I lacked in musical ability, I made up for in marching skill.
The best thing about parades nowadays? The candy. My kids’ division and marching band parade career left no time for sitting curbside, taking it all in and snatching up errant Tootsie Rolls and bubble gum.
One would take their life into their own hands, trying to compete with the candy-grabbing youngsters along the parade route, but the candy-throwers seem to be more generous than those of yesteryear.
It’s relaxing to sit in a lawn chair and watch everything from 4-Hers on hayracks to brand new farm equipment go past.
And catch the occasional errant Tootsie Roll.
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