I Love a Parade

This past Memorial Day I became an honorary member of the Chicago W.O.O.G.M.S. for a couple of hours.  (That’s Wellington-Oakdale-Old Glory-Marching-Society for the uninitiated.)  It was spearheaded by Tony Weisman- whose father Al had turned Pied Piper when he inaugurated the very first neighborhood parade fifty years earlier.

This parade’s motto is “Everybody marches.”

My sister-in-law Mary Lu and I showed up to join the ranks on that drizzly, chilly Monday morning.  (Tony is her cousin, and in a show of family unity, many of her relatives take part.)  We were immediately handed plastic flags and balloons.  Then we listened to Tony’s valedictory address to the troops.  (He is turning over the reins after being parade master since 1974.)  We heard some remarks by local politicos and then we all joined in, as Wayne Messmer led the crowd in a soggy yet enthusiastic version of the Star Spangled Banner.

And with the Jesse White Drum Corps rat-tat-tatting away, I joined neighborhood locals, their kids, their dogs, their strollers, prams, trikes, bikes, razor scooters and skate boards as we all made our way down Sheridan Road, turned left on Diversey and ended up in front of St. Joseph’s Hospital to eat Chuckles (a hospital handout for the kids and my FAVORITE candy of all time) and watch a dazzling display of acrobatics by the Jesse White Tumblers.

Then we headed for home.

That was it.  Nothing spectacular.  Just a small slice of Norman Rockwell Americana.  Homespun, down-to-earth, family fun.  A lovely moment.

But as I stood in the crowd watching the proud, happy parents doting on their parade-delighted kids, I couldn’t help but think about Boston and another family-filled event.

Patriot’s Day.

And the Boston Marathon finish line.

I’m not a paranoid and I don’t like to dwell on awful possibilities, but as I looked around, I was struck by the fact that this parade had to be made up of the exact same demographic as that finish line only a few short terrible weeks before.

Lively young families enjoying the day together.  Nothing extraordinary.  Or political.

And yet, somehow, that event had turned into a scene of carnage and death.  Where there had been laughing children waiting for Mom or Dad to cross the finish line was now a bloody battlefield.  In an instant.

Impossible to comprehend. Unthinkable.

As I said, nothing untoward happened at our parade.  The crowd gathered, marched and left in peace.  Proper and fitting on Memorial Day- a day set aside to remember all those who gave their lives on battlefields far away so Americans can cordon off traffic and parade down Sheridan Road.  (Another war veteran come to think of it.)

But today, on this Independence Day, I wanted to take a moment- before the hot dogs and the hamburgers and the fireworks that mark our national celebration- to send out red, white and blue wishes to the city of Boston- and all those who sail in her.

We are with you.  It could have been us.

It could have been any of us.

Everybody marches.