Time Marches On

The fair was in town the other day. It began as it always does- with a parade a few days before. Over the years, the parade has stretched longer and longer to the point where this year, it lasted about an hour and a half. Last year, it was close to this, but in years past, it managed to hold to a more reasonable hour or so.

I don’t think I would have as much of a problem with this if the kids were still little. Like so many things, including the fair itself, my enjoyment of it comes from a) being with the kids, and b) watching their excitement. But as this aspect has diminished over the years, so has my enjoyment of it. But even then, it seems to me that it stretches to a point of overstaying it's welcome.

The last few years, Sam has been the only one of the kids to regularly go to the parade. I have no problem with this at all, but I’m not sure whether he’s going because he wants to, or because he thinks it’s expected of him. Last year, we left before the parade even was over. It worked out pretty well as it allowed us to beat the traffic.

This year when I asked him he seemed eager to go, which surprised me, and so, we went.

We got there a little later than usual, due to my longer commute from work, but we managed to wedge ourselves in along our usual “spot”. And we waited.

Like usual, the parade started late. Not unreasonably late, considering all of which had to be coordinated, but late enough to question what was going on. After waiting a while, the flash of the police lights were spotted up the road, which signaled the start of the progression.

The first part of the parade is packed with floats of various themes and quality. Don’t picture folded paper flowers blanketing some indiscernible vehicle hidden beneath. Picture instead a flatbed pulling what is likely a hay truck in it’s day job. There’s nothing wrong with this, of course. In fact, I kind of like it. It’s part of the “charm” of living in a rural area. 

Some of these floats carry the elderly, some the very young. In each case there often seems to be one portion of the group that looks almost overly thrilled to be there, while the other portion looks like they might have been forced into it. There seems to be very little in between.

These floats are interspersed with politicians walking or driving along, waving like they’re glad to see all these people who came out just for them. I don't know most of these people, and that's the way I prefer it. I've never looked back on a parade and thought, "Boy, didn't that Selectman seem friendly?"

And there are marching bands. In years past, I might have recognized a face or two as they marched along. This year, I didn't even recognize the adults. Sam recognized a few kids from his school, so that was pretty good.

There were the usual Shriners squeezed into their little mini cars. These guys have been coming for as long as I can remember and it's usually a highlight- as it was this year. Every year it also gives me the chance to point out their yellow Jeepster and tell one of the kids how their Grandma had one just like it, except it wasn't yellow. This would often lead to me reminiscing about the pathetic windshield wipers or the plastic side windows or freezing by the heater on the way to or from school. This year, I managed to refrain from telling these stories. So far, there's been no indication from Sam on whether he's missed hearing theses stories or not. 

I noticed that some of the regulars were missing. I didn't see the street sweeper that followed along behind the horses with some sign about keeping our town clean- a long running joke for at least the previous twenty years or so. In fact, I don’t remember even seeing the horses. I assume that budget cuts are involved.

I also didn't see the usual clowns this year. There were always at least two clowns that you could count on. One was the “Clown for Jesus”. I don’t think that was his real name. This clown was affiliated with some alleged church and he would march along with a small group of people, presumably his congregation, waving and handing out stickers as he went. I never got a sticker from him. I assume he felt, correctly, that I was a waste of time.

The other missing clown was the one that protested the local nuclear power plant. This jolly fellow would stroll along and throw Atomic Fireballs at the crowd (Get it? "Atomic"?). Unlike the stickers, I usually managed to get hit by a few of those fireballs. 

I’m pretty sure Atomic Clown wasn't there because the local power plant is in the process of shutting down- thanks in no small part of his brave performances at years worth of these parades. I picture this clown now sitting inside his dingy living room, parked in an old, frayed recliner- the walls covered in yellowing anti-nuke posters. He sits in the dim light, squinting intently at a newspaper, looking for another worthy cause in need of a clown.

The parade has always had it’s share of advertising, and this year was no different. What was different was the amount of advertising. I guess every person and every float is, in it’s own way, some kind of advertisement. But at least with the floats and the people, and the bands, and even the now absent clowns, there’s always been an attempt to mix in an amount of entertainment.

What's happened over the years is that more and more heavy trucks have entered the mix. In years past, there would always be one or two large trucks rumbling along, float-less, occasionally blasting their horn, scaring the crap out of any little kid and me that happened to be nearby. But now, there’s a ton of them. In fact, I think that last third of the parade is nothing but a progression of trucks- heavy and otherwise. I’m not talking Monster Trucks or something weird. I’m talking gasoline tankers and milk tankers. I’m talking oil delivery trucks- the kind that go to your house. There’s even one or two soda delivery trucks mixed in. Why am I sitting there watching this? It’s become little more than watching heavy traffic slowly going by. They could cut a lot of this out and make the parade a lot more interesting.

So, this year, like last year, we got up and left as the trucks started to rumble by- just as the parade was presumably winding down. We weaved through the crowd, making our way back to the van, just in time to beat the traffic.