The Firecracker Parade is one of those happenings that every community needs, not that it is grandiose or elaborate because participants are only allowed 24 hours to prepare, are discouraged from political statements, and encouraged to be creative. Terry Ludeman has for 34 years marshaled the participants up the three-quarter mile course to waiting throngs gathered under the majestic maples at the New Hope Church. The crowd is festive, closely packed, always fraught with anticipation, above average and attractive.
While it is not a picnic, nor a party, friends do gather to engage in country conversation and marvel at both the charming, entertaining and outright humorous absurdity of some parade entrants. There is not much in the line of noise making as New Hope does not seem to have a fire department, nor police or much of anything capable of really turning up the decibels. The pastoral throb of a fine old two-cylinder John Deere almost, at least to me, sounds like music, and if it is not music, it is the sound of past farming practices and the hard toil of working the land.
Always appreciated, there were the mounted participants whose mighty steeds polluted not one iota of countryside, even if they did leave small deposits. Yes, there were scoopers in tow and I can only imagine the roadside plants reaching out for some warm homegrown fertilizer. Oh how the horses pranced and the riders grinned.
This year a vintage WWII jeep with its purring, probably Willy’s engine, and the dents of years of use, but standing tall for American security, properly carried the colors but not with a lot of fanfare. It was just a meaningful reminder that there have always been citizens willing to step up for the Mother Country.
A surprise outer space visitor on a bike stopped in front of the attentive judges to explain the human condition. He, I believe it was a he, had been noticing that we, meaning many Americans, were in the habit of blaming others for our problems and he had found the perfect tool to solve that issue as he took out a mirror and demonstrated its use. It was prophetically unique, he thought, because it implied we needed to look at ourselves. He spoke of love, peace and accountability---a new outer space twist.
The tuba band, with horns gleaming in the afternoon sun, provided the hits of the past, and it was not just marches but rock and roll, The word resplendent comes to mind as the tossed candy filled the street and scampering urchins scurried about securing their share. In the rear of the parade, Helen, the Milfoil lady, all festooned in undesirable aquatic weeds, and looking much like a fish monger, wheel-barrowed past the crowd advocating the removal of the aquatic weed that is now an invasive force.
With great pride, and an ego blown up like a toad under a streetlight, our group garnered the first place magic-marker-decorated paper plate. What can only be described as classic performance art, this group of individuals with no sense of pride or decorum, attached a skit to each and every letter of the words New Hope. N stood for Norwegian, of course. The crowd was treated to an Ollie and Lena story from an appropriately dressed Viking. It seems this young man, who in third grade, was awarded a prize for having the largest feet. In asking his father, “was this because he was Norwegian?”. He was then told he had large feet because he was eighteen.
E stood for the noble Eagle. Out of almost nowhere, and in a single swoop, a rather ghastly eagle swooped in and consumed a stuffed duck ---great naturalistic theater. W stood for Wisconsin, the home of the brave and land of the confused as the two Miss Wisconsins bellowed On Wisconsin and called for a W. at the same time. H, of course, had to stand for Holstein, and there casually leaning against a wagon was a superb, well uddered, bovine in casual repose. At the sound of an auto, she was back on all fours acting like a cow when car traffic went by, but like real cows, she returned to lounging after the vehicle was past.
O was for onions. This, a fine locally produced vegetable, was glorified by two beauties doing a dance commonly done while entertaining at a bar, I believe, called the Airport Lounge. They were synchronized in their swinging of great long onions. Some thought they were equivalent to synchronized water dancing. “Truly profound” was a description heard from one roadside observer---while lifting her eyes in amazement.
P was pick-pockets from Peru. Mimes, two of them, brushed by each other to demonstrate their devious skills. The expressive gentleman managed to latch on to a nice watch and some money, all the while thinking himself the victor, but the woman of the pair, while seeming distraught about the financial loss, held up a pair of boxer shorts. On close examination, the gentleman found himself shortless and embarrassed (pun). The final E was flipped over to make an M for music at which point the entire entourage went to dancing the polka to the lilting notes of a flute and fiddle.
So while I have an inflated ego, let us not forget that next year will be the thirty-fifth of the firecracker and while it is not appropriate to officially plan your float, it is time to put it on your calendar.
.
No comments:
Post a Comment