Mid-June in my town is the high point of the year…. Oh yazz, it’s Strawberry Festival time! And the high point of the entire festival is the parade; ten am, Saturday. Half the town marches…
And just when you think that this year something really must have happened to hold up the parade, there they come, turning around the corner at the south end of Main Street. Heading up the procession are the Little Leaguers, all decked out in their team uniforms, complete with grass stained knees.
This year we had bagpipers. I actually parked next to that middle fellow in the back row. I complimented him on the beautiful colors in his tartan, but he merely grunted at me. I’m sure he didn’t mean to be rude… I’m thinking he must have been feeling a bit distracted as he apparently forgot his spats. How embarrassing! I suppose I’ll forgive him.
We’ve got cute little baton twirlers. Please tell me I’m not the only one feeling a twinge of envy towards that adorable little thing right there with her impossibly skinny little legs. I don’t think my legs were that thin when I was a newborn.
What’s a parade without a band, right? My personal fave is the trumpet player on the right, turned so he can play directly to the little children on the sidelines. I’m thinkin’ he must be someone’s Grampa.
Anyone recognize that smooth dude on the flashy chopper bike (which was a gift from Daddy)? Yep, that’s my boy: the cool one. He said the best part of his day was when people called out, “Awesome bike!” and “Cool ride!” as he passed.
It’s hard work being this cool. Apparently.