Every year I march in the Takoma Park Fourth of July parade with a group from the Washington Revels. We dress all in white, carry [fake] flower garlands and dragon heads and hobby horses and a giant shrub, and sing songs about spring and summer and stuff. It’s great fun. Part of the fun is being in a small town parade – the streets are lined with people in lawn chairs, and marching groups include local daycares, a dog training school, and a lady on a horse. We won third prize for costumes. The parade starts near the co-op grocery store and ends in front of my elementary school.
So, naturally, a lot of the fun is seeing people I know along the way. As we were walking to our line-up spot in the morning, my friends asked for a prediction of how many people I’d see that I know. I figured it would be in the 20s. We couldn’t decide if I was allowed to count every kid who was with the adults I saw, so instead I counted family groups. My total: 21. Some of those are individuals, but most are between two and four people, so I figure I came out in the 40s at the very least.
I realize there’s nothing at all remarkable about this if you actually live in a small town. But I live in Washington, D.C., which is allegedly a big city. It’s a nice surprise here to see people you know. Well, ok, by the fourth go-round on this parade, it is in no way a surprise to see people I know. But it’s still nice.
(I don’t really know everybody, but I like to pretend I do. Read about it.)
photo: me, 2007