I watch a parade

Douglas MacArthur, or close to it

I know too much about General MacArthur to be a fan of his, but it’s always a pleasure to see someone channel him for a parade. This man did a pretty good job of it, too.

We got great seats for the parade because Jaime and Bill set them up early on the day of the parade in an area that they marked with chalk the previous day. That is the local custom in Huntington Beach, and it worked just fine. The trick, they told us, is to return and darken the chalk marks from time to lest they fade away. Fading invites poachers, squatters, and other riffraff.

I think parades are a good idea. Entertainment comes from all sides, not just down the center of the street. We had religious zealots, hippies, wierdos, and scantily-clad young lovelies to amuse us. One of the trendy looks this year is the Daisy Mae, modeled after Daisy Mae Yokum from the Li’l Abner comic strip. The girls show cleavage, plenty of midriff, and they unsnap their jeans. I would have photographed one of them, but I was too stunned each time to lift my camera to my eye. Maybe next time. It is a definite gap in my photo gallery that requires correction.

Speaking of cleavage, I noted that I saw more of it in one weekend at the beach in California than I see in a year in Tucson. I think the beach folks have an advantage. I believe such displays reaffirm one’s faith in the natural order.  At least, they do mine. I noticed, when living in Portland, the effects of constant gray, overcast skies. In Tucson I notice the effect of not living at the beach where my faith in the natural order was constantly refreshed. Every locale has its trade offs, I guess.

I discovered while writing this post that Wonderbra sponsors National Cleavage Day in South Africa. They cleverly avoid political favoritism by declaring themselves “Firm supporters of both the left and the right.” See what you can learn from watching a parade?

I especially like local parades. The Pasadena Rose Parade, like the Portland Rose Parade, is too slick and ambitious for my tastes. I like a bit of goofiness and unpredictability. As an example, one of the horses relieved himself at the very beginning of the parade right in front of us. It was a conspicuous torrent that drove several spectators from their seats.

Excuse me?

This is the horse.  He seemed quite proud of himself.

The parade included plenty of bands, a few acrobats, some Shriners, some Democrats, and a few entries that were a pretty flimsy excuse to get folks with no talent and conspicuous potbellies in front of their neighbors. That, too, is a characteristic of local parades, and I think it is a good thing. As long as the parade is limited to two hours, let it accommodate a few Gong-Show wannabes.

There also was a strong military presence. I was pleased by the warm reception all of the military folks received as they marched by.

The Huntington Beach parade is preceded by a 5K run. If you go, consider entering the race. It follows a lovely course parallel to the ocean, and the course is mercifully flat. The July mornings are also cool. I have a few groovy photos of the racers, but I’m out of space for this post.

I had fun, but it’s good to be back. In Tucson I rely on yoga to reaffirm the natural order for me—not to say I wouldn’t appreciate multiple forms of affirmation. You can’t be too careful about such things.