Actual photo of my Dad and my son waiting for the parade. 

The Memorial Day Parade
by Rita Y. Chiavacci 

                The morning air crackled with electricity.  All the homes on our street displayed the American Flag, as did most of the homes in town.  It was Memorial Day, the day of our town's traditional parade.

          Everyone hurried to gather on the Avenue.  Traffic had been detoured. The broad street awaited the coming of the participants.  Children sat on curbs to have a really good view.  Standing in the street was prohibited.  All eyes stared down the broad expanse of street.  Band music could be heard in the distance.  The parade was on its way. 

The military color guard, representing the various Armed Forces, led the parade.  Carrying their flags and rifles and marching in step, they signified the beginning of the long awaited event.

          The State Policemen, wearing their wide brimmed hats and their polished holsters, mounted on their magnificent horses followed.  As they approached, children began to cheer and applaud.  Your heart beat a little faster as they neared.  The horses were splendid to see.  They were awesome!  Their size and the tossing of their heads made you step closer to your Mom or Dad.  You could almost catch their swishing tails as they went by the spectators..  The clop of their hooves made a kind of music as they passed in review.  The sight of these wonderful animals thrilled all the children.

          The pulsating beat of drums brought the school bands into view.  Our band and the one of our traditional Thanksgiving Day football game rival, West Wyoming, always participated. Tubas, trumpets, saxophones, clarinets, and flutes glistened in the morning sunlight.  Brisk marches filled the air.    

          Row after row of school children from the elementary school passed carrying American flags resting on their shoulders.  They called and waved to parents and friends, proud to be a part of this extravaganza.  The children had the option of marching with classmates or riding their bicycles.  What a decision!

           Those who chose to ride bicycles spent hours preparing for this big day.  Crepe paper was woven in and out of spokes until the wheels looked like they were solid masses of red, white, and blue.  Streamers fluttered from handlebars, as did tall pennants, that were sported from the backs of the bicycles.  At such a slow pace, balances were sometimes hard to maintain.  One young man, who was the town oddity, entertained with his bike tricks.  He became a regular part of this occasion.  We all looked forward to his antics as much as he enjoyed performing them.  The applause he received made him grin and his performance would escalate.  It was a tradition within a tradition.

          Brownies, Cub Scouts, Girl Scouts, and Boy Scouts came in seas of color.  Almost every family in town had children involved in one way or another.  Local politicians, fraternal and church organizations, group after group came marching by. 

          The sirens of the fire engines pierced the air.  Children covered their ears with their hands to soften the wailing sirens.  Firemen waving to little ones brought quick responses.  Many of the small children were allowed to ride on the trucks.  What a thrill!  The passing of the trucks signified the end of the parade.

          The participating groups all disbanded only to re-form inside the cemetery for programs honoring the dead.  Since we lived near the cemetery, we always had a good vantage point.  A colorful array of flowers and flags marked the gravesites.  Speeches were made and guns were fired.  It was a fitting tribute to those who gave their lives in service to their country.  Individual families also took the opportunity to remember all their deceased loved ones.  Gradually programs ended and people drifted out of the cemetery to go on to the rest of their Memorial Day celebrations.      

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