July 06, 2009
Patriotic Rant, Grandpa Simpson Style
Now, I don't like to use my blog to preach. Who wants to listen to that? Ocassionally, I will expound the virtues of Barbies vs. Bratz, or rag about people with particularly rude habits. However, as a rule, I stay away from politically charged topics.
I don't give a shit what any celebrity thinks about America or recycling or the war or whatever -- so it's safe to assume that you people would rather go tidy up the kitchen than hear what I have to say about our local parades. And if such is the case, please go clean. The food stuck in your sink drain is starting to smell.
(Please bear in mind that this rant does NOT pertain to our Norwegian Day Parade, 17 Mai, because that always rocks da hizzouse.)
When I was little, our parades used to be something to anticipate for days before and talk about for weeks after. There were quite a few marching bands, including all the high schools, the Shriners and the local competition-level drum and bugle corps. The Shriners also rode those giant olde tyme bicycles, tiny cars, flying carpets. One year, I lucked out and got to ride on a flying carpet because one of the Shriners knew my parents. Score! I'm sure my sense of euphoria was only heightened by the diesel fumes I was sucking down. Double-score!
There was a middle-aged, mentally challenged man, named Chickie, who lived in our town back then. In fact, he lived right down the street from me. He would ride his bike all over town and was very friendly and talkative, so everyone knew him. The mayor always let him carry a big American flag and lead-off the parade, and he got such a kick out of it. I kind of miss Chickie. If this were The Great American Novel, instead of some lame-ass blog, I might say that The True Spirit of the Patriotic Parade died when Chickie did...
I do NOT, however, miss Chickie's self-proclaimed girlfriend, Charlotte. She, too, was a bit challenged, but not as beloved as Chickie. One time, she chased my friend and I down the street, beating us with her giant, black purse. You know how hard it is to run from a crazy person? Crazy people are HELLAFAST, and it didn't help that we were laughing hysterically. Ah, good times.
Anyhoo, I remember my parents teaching me to always stand when the veterans and American flag went by, and when the National Anthem was played. And it seems to me there were more soldiers back then. Did a contingency of the Illinois National Guard march in our parades? I don't know. I just know that there was a lot more focus on the real significance of Memorial Day and Independence Day.
The focus now? Candy. Everyone throws it into the street so the kids can run and get it. Besides being a safety hazard, and a bitch for the city to clean up afterwards, I kind of resent our days of patriotic remembrance being turned into Spring-Halloween and Summer-Halloween.
Here is Stella displaying a small fraction of the crap that we carted home from the Memorial Day parade.
I also don't like -- oh, my God, I am so Pa Kettle today -- I don't like the politicians using the parade to campaign. Speaking as someone who believes that politicians are much more interested in the good of their wallets than the good of the city/county/state/country, they have no business taking up space in what is supposed to be a tribute to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, as they are most often the ones getting in the way of my liberty and happy pursuits.
In addition to all the campaign flyers distributed at the parades, every local business uses it as an opportunity for free advertising. It's sickening. They print up leaflets with American flags on them and what? Honor our coutry's heros by giving us $5 off our next order? C'MON!
And here's where everyone under the age of eighty tunes out. If you haven't already.
BACK IN MY DAY...
Everyone dressed in uniform and walked in formation. Hell, the Girl Scouts and Brownies wore hats and little, white gloves. None of this aimless milling about. If there was a dance troup, they danced! If there was a band, they played! Every organization had homemade banners and carried them proudly. And everyone dressed like they were in a parade, not taking out the garbage.
Our town's Memorial Day parade was so disappointing this year, I skipped the 4th of July parade. I like going and cheering when the vets go by, but next year, I may leave right after that. Or maybe I'll demand that the city hire me to be the parade coordinator.
Okay. Sadly getting down off my soapbox now. Sorry for being such a crotchety old coot today.
Comments
Don't apologize. Stay on the soapbox, but make some room for me. These kids these days need to learn something!
Posted by: Lola at July 6, 2009 07:36 PM
You're right on target. The parades have become live commercials. I think people are lining the streets to see something that went away not so very long ago.
Posted by: Kurt at August 15, 2009 06:37 PM