Most of the floats were celebrating the 100th anniversary of Arizona’s statehood, and a good majority of them included squirting water. No, not squirting. That implies the cute little spray of water from an old-fashioned water pistol. This was more spraying water, even gushing water. Especially when it came from the fire trucks. It was amusing to watch the adults step back from the curb while all the kids ran into the street begging to be soaked.
But this wasn’t the slice of Americana that most touched me. It was what happened after the parade when the entire town – along with the more intrepid tourists – threw a party. And what a party it was!
A double tent had been raised in the field behind the reviewing stand and the sounds of a rockin’ band blasted from it the minute the parade ended. We wandered around the field trying to choose our lunch from an array of stands selling Navajo tacos, hot dogs, and, of course, that Southwestern staple, barbeque.
In the meantime, the kids knocked down cans with balls, threw beanbags into the holes in a handmade target, and each won a heat of the sack race. I knew the woman running the race was a mom when she turned to me during the third run and said, “The other two have trophies already, right?” Each time I look at the three cheap thumbs-up trophies now residing in my front seat cup holders, I send her a little thought of gratitude for her sensitivity in understanding how sibling rivalry that can intensify when you’re living in a minivan for two months.
Probably the best part, though – aside from the delectable authentic barbeque – was the equally authentic auction where everyone knew everyone else and we heard exchanges like:
Auctioneer: Forty, forty, do I hear fifty? Fifty, fifty, I have fifty. Karen is bidding against you, Darla, but her husband doesn’t look so happy about it.
Darla’s husband: Keep bidding, Karen.
Auctioneer: You heard him, Karen.
Once the auction and all its friendly outbidding ended, the band kicked it up and we rocked out while everyone shared the dripping slices left over from the watermelon eating contest.
It wasn’t the picture perfect Norman Rockwell's New England bunting-draped parade and fireworks we're used to on the Fourth of July. In fact, the fire danger in this part of the country is extreme so fireworks are banned all over the southwest.
Instead it was the open heart of America celebrating itself and taking in the strangers in its midst in much the same way it has for generations. And I’m so glad my children got to experience it.
For Gene's very different view of the same journey, check out his blog at www.ConnorsArmy.blogspot.com
To learn more about Connor's Army go to www.ConnorsArmy.org
To see exactly why we're doing this go to www.SunriseDayCamp.org
To make a tax deductible donation go to https://www.wizevents.com/register/register_add.php?sessid=1809&id=1056
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