Flag Day in my little town is as enchanting as a Norman Rockwell painting. For the last few years, we’ve been taking Child Harbat to the parade to see local princesses waving from convertibles, dogs wearing hats, women in black Victorian dresses on horseback and brandishing rifles, clowns, men in Fezzes driving miniature cars, small-time politicians, Polynesian dancers, marching bands, and every other social club and activity you can imagine all strolling down the main street on a sunny Saturday morning. This year I put Number Two in the backpack carrier and we met up with friends to watch the spectacle. Basically it’s like thumbing through a visual guide to the town’s activity pages. Pug Lovers Club? Check. WWII Submariners? Aye aye. Miss Whatserdoodle’s junior dance club? An enthusiastic glitter-bedecked YES! CH got to dart out in the road to gather up some candy thrown from the rotating turret of a battle-ready Police SWAT tactical vehicle. Imagine Robocop firing Twizzlers at a hundred rounds a minute from a high-capacity magazine arm cannon. Children scream…with delight!
Number Two’s reaction to the parade? He squirmed to watch the dog wearing a star-spangled visor with its rear legs in a little cart, then he fell asleep right before a junior-high band came past with an ENTHUSIASTIC DRUM AND BRASS SECTION. Then he woke up again and tried to climb out of the carrier like a baby crocodile emerging from its shell.
The final touch on Flag Day 2013? Here’s what makes America great. You’ve got one group that has sewn together one of the country’s largest flags, and you also have the fire department with its biggest ladder truck. Both groups are milling around in the Little League field parking lot after the parade. What to do? Hoist that sucker up in the air, that’s what!