Parades on two sides of the border (7/7/04)

Four days, two parades, and I wasn’t covering either of them for the newspaper.

That’s kind of a strange feeling for me. In the world of community newspapers, parades are a big deal. And over almost 30 years, I’ve taken so many pictures of bands, floats, and kids scrambling for candy that they all blur together.

So it was different last week to find myself in the role of a spectator.

Parade number one was Thursday.

We’d driven north to Ontario, planning to spend a couple of nights in Stratford and enjoy some of the theater festival in that hospitable little city. And it wasn’t long after we’d crossed the border that I found myself asking, “Is today Canada Day?”

Connie and Sally answered with the equivalent of shrugs; they didn’t know.

But a few miles later (or a few kilometers later since we were in Ontario by then) I spotted a sign outside a bean processing plant which proudly stated, “I am Canadian.”

Further signs and flags confirmed that indeed it was Canada Day. Without planning it, we’d arrived on Canada’s 137th birthday.

The parade was squeezed in between dinner and the opening curtain for “Noises Off,” probably the best farce ever written for the stage.

To our delight and surprise, the parade route passed within a block of the theater, so it was easy to join the crowd and get a peek at how our neighbors to the north celebrate.

As parades go, it was a good one, with multiple bands riding on flatbed trucks while they played things like “Oh Canada.” There was a bagpipe band we’d love to see marching in Jay County or at the Jubilee parade in Fort Recovery.

A few of the entries had us scratching our heads, particularly the one with people walking around in human-sized Fram Oil Filter costumes.

A few days later and we were back on more familiar territory for parade number two.

In fact, we were on the spot where the family has watched parades in Portland for more than 20 years.

I was usually working during those parades, walking the route backwards at times with a camera held up to my face. But the rest of the family has always parade watched at the Ken Kunkle auto dealership corner of Race and Meridian streets.

It’s a tradition, one which brings us in contact with old friends who share the same spot.

True to form, we ran into former neighbors. Harry Scott was there, and so were the Wallischeck family who lived right next door to us when all of our kids were little as well as the Jonases, who live over the back fence.

Seeing them — little kids now grown up, some of them parents themselves — reminded us of that other parade — time — and how it keeps marching along, whether we’re taking pictures or not.[[In-content Ad]]