Everybody Loves a Parade

Today was Band Day in our town. I wouldn’t exactly call it a “Big Day,” but there have been signs posted in stores, banners on street lamps, and such for several days. High school bands from all over the state come here for a competition, and then cap off the three-day event with a parade through town. We and another family went downtown and watched the parade last year, and our boys seemed to like it, so we decided to go watch it again this year.

What is it about a parade that brings the cold weather? Last year, it was amazingly cold at parade time, and this year it was amazingly cold at parade time. The climate has cooled considerably since the summer, but today was the first day that gloves would have been useful. Fortunately my wife pays attention to the Weather Channel, and so we had blankets to keep the boys warm. I had a coat on, but I should have had more. The wind was biting.

The parade route was lined with spectators, but not really packed. The lines on both sides of the road were just one person deep, and no spot was really crowded.

The parade consisted of a few floats pulled by pick up trucks, several old cars from the local classic car club, a few modern cars with various band boosters and supporters waving to the crowd, a few advertising banners carried by two or three kids, and of course the marching bands.

Flag girls, rifle teams, banner carriers, band leaders, and all the various instrument players marched down the street. The flag girls and rifle teams were constantly waving their gear, smiling, hopping, and twirling. The banner carriers were walking and waving to the crowd. But the leaders and players kept their heads forward, their back straight, their instruments held chin high in front of them, and they marched in short, quick steps, heel, toe, heel, toe, heel, toe. The drums were the only instruments in constant play.

Occasionally a band would play a half-minute part of a song, but most of the time they just marched. The teenagers in the bands were of all shapes and sizes, from the skinny little girls maybe five feet tall, to the hulking boys carrying tubas. They all had a blank expression, and kept serious attention straight ahead. None of them looked like they were actually enjoying the march.

The flag girls, however, seemed to be having a fun time. They twirled and smiled, spun their flags and smiled, and hopped and smiled. Some of the girls looked like their actions were taking every bit of their concentration, but others looked like they were absolutely thrilled to be waving their flags. Good for them.

Their outfits, though. . . shudder. Some of those poor flag girls had not only really ugly outfits on, but they had to be cold. Some were no more than full-body, skin-tight leotards. Some had bare arms (or just one bare arm). Some had thin streamers or wide strips of cloth hanging from odd places. Some outfits just looked like they weren’t finished being made; only the fact that all the girls had the same outfit on proved that the look was intentional.

The band members could have looked really dapper with their straight uniforms, but none were really cut to fit the wearer. Some pants were too short, some shirts were too long, and their hats all fit differently. Their uniform way of marching in step just exacerbated the ill-fitting look of their outfits.

I envy these band members for their ability to play an instrument (not that I actually saw them play anything, other than the drummers), but I gotta admit that watching them march down the street would not get me, if I were a teenager, interested in joining a marching band. Honestly, they looked like a bunch of dorks. There was no life in their march, there was no coolness in their attitudes, there was just no fun in their presence.

The bands need to take note of the flag girls: get active and have fun. And they all need better uniforms.

Teenagers on the march. God bless ’em.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com