Parades

I have attended hundreds and have marched in dozens of parades. This all started when I was a small child. Van Etten had an annual fireman’s field days and associated fireman’s parade. My mother wanted our family to participate. My father built a float out of plywood and doweling. On the each side of this "float" were the words "Mack’s ½ Ring Circus" and "Lion Cage". The plan was that the family dog would pull this lion cage, which fit on the traditional "little red wagon". In the lion cage would sit the family cat. My sister and I would be dressed as circus clowns. On the back of the float dad had painted "Would you believe a cat cage?" It was cute.

There turned out to be a couple of small problems with the plan. First, nobody asked the cat what she thought of the idea. The spacing of the doweling bars of the cage was not narrow enough to keep the cat inside the cage. We did not realize before the parade that the cat had no skeleton. Second, nobody consulted with the dog regarding the plan. "Daisy" was part Alaskan Husky. However, it appears we did not get the part of the Husky that pulls little red wagons down the street.

The new plan…the seven-year old boy pulls the wagon. The other family dog, "Doren" takes the place of the cat in the cage. The 11-year-old girl hides in her room. Dad changes the message on the back of the float to read, "Would you believe a dog cage", with cat having been crossed out.

I have pictures.

No, you can’t see them.

Thus began my fascination with parades.

I’m in the right city to be a fan of parades. I suspect you have heard of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and the New York City St. Patrick’s Day Parade. What you likely have not heard much about are some of the other parades. For example, the Puerto Rico Day parade, the Salute to Israel Parade, the Turkish American Day Parade, the March for Children’s Rights, The Rites of Spring: Procession to Save our Gardens parade and the Scottish Day Parade, featuring the largest assembly of pipers and drummers in the world, 10,000. Just about every weekend in the spring, summer and fall there is a parade in Manhattan. I enjoy them all. One weekend I was in Manhattan with a visiting friend and stumbled across the Sikhs (India) parade. I sat and watched for a while, having a grand time, until my friend reminded me that she hadn’t traveled to the Big City to see the city’s cab drivers stage a parade.

Each parade brings something different to the Big City in terms of culture. However, they all share one central theme that holds them together. Screwing up traffic.

Getting around the Big City on a weekday can be challenging. However if you know your bus and subway routes, and you know that even numbered streets go east and odd numbered streets go west, you should be ok. On the weekend though, it is different. You can never be sure which street will be shutdown and when. For example a couple of Saturdays ago Ninth Avenue was shut down from 37th street to 57th street. This was for a street festival. I don’t know what they were celebrating, but I do know that my usual access to the Lincoln Tunnel had an Italian Sausage stand where I wanted my car to be.

All of this comes to mind because today is May 30, 2002. Today we had a different type of parade. Actually, it was a procession. Today they brought the last piece of structural steel out of the pit we call the World Trade Center. Most of the parades I have attended or participated in celebrated or commemorated something that was important to someone. This procession was about everyone. Everyone who marched in the procession deserved a parade. The procession had firefighters, police officers, EMTs, construction workers, Red Cross volunteers, search and rescue dogs, the Salvation Army, the United States Army and in the rear, politicians, including America’s mayor, Rudy.

It would have been easy for someone to use today’s ceremony to make a point. To have a well-written speech that would have summed up how we feel, or how we should feel, about this past year. Thankfully, nobody tried. They rang a bell. They played Taps. We all saluted. The NYC Police Department helicopters flew over in formation. A bagpipe band played "God Bless America".

I have never been more moved by a parade than I was today.

Sometimes I Lose Stuff

When I was a teenager there were many things about me that drove my parents nuts. One was my tendency to lose things. Things of value. Things such as a camera. I was the high school yearbook photographer. There wasn’t a week that went by that someone didn’t visit my father’s classroom to return my camera, which I had left somewhere in the school. My father’s classroom was also where my jackets, books, bike, etc., would be deposited.

This was an advantage of having my father as a teacher in the same school I attended.

This week I lost my gym bag. More specifically, I left it in the overhead bin on the bus Tuesday evening. I was on my way home. I was tired. I had actually been to the gym. When I got up to leave the bus I left the bag in the overhead compartment.

The next morning I asked Eddie, the bus driver, what I should do. He gave me the number to the bus garage where my bag would have been turned in. I took my seat and, using my cell phone, called the garage. The guy who answered sounded like a guy who works in a bus garage.

No, the bag had not been turned in. Eddie, having overheard the conversation, speculated that another passenger had taken the bag.

Let me see if I have this straight. Things are so bad for someone that taking my bag filled with sweaty socks, shorts, T-shirt, underwear, a pair of sneakers I used to use when cutting the grass and a pair of headphones I could never use again, now that I think of it, is going to improve their lot in life. Well, ok. He/she can have the bag.

I usually put other things in the bag, such as my Walkman, PDA, cell phone, wallet, and keys. This day, due to divine providence, I didn’t do that. When packing things into the bag at the gym I decided that these were items that didn’t need to be co-mingled with the clothing I had just used in the gym. Normally the gym cloths would have been placed in a separate plastic bag. However, the rack where I usually get this bag was depleted this day. It is the first time in my memory that they were out of plastic bags. Because the gym was out of plastic bags I still have possession of my Walkman, PDA, cell phone, wallet, and keys.

Usually there also would be a soapbox in the bag. This is the plastic thingy used to carry a bar of soap. I didn’t lose that on the bus because I lost that in the shower the previous week. In fact, I have been losing one of those every couple of weeks for the past six months. As big as New York City is, with as many stores as are located in NYC, the only place in the city that sells these stupid soapboxes is K-Mart. I hate K-Mart. Still, every couple of weeks I have to visit the K-Mart on 34th and Seventh Ave. to buy a new soapbox. I’m now at the point I buy several on each trip. The gym provides soap in the showers, but it is liquid soap and it smells like coconuts. I don’t want to smell like coconuts. I have enough problems without smelling like coconuts.

I mentioned my lost gym bag to a co-worker, Martha. She suggested that the next time I visit my father I stop by his old classroom to see if anyone dropped it off.

Well, I hope all is going well with you, and that you found your keys this morning right where you left them.