Everybody loves a parade
Despite the chilly weather, it’s that time of the year when everybody loves a parade. I knew this, and went along. The regional Santa walk, where every spare emergency vehicle from within a forty-five minute circle is found in the queue. OK, half that; the ocean provides one side of things.
With the temperature just above freezing (the point where humans are exquisitely sensitive to damp, chilled air), we joined some of the neighbours on the sidewalk. After a bowl of chili with a mug of hot chocolate in the nearby café, to be sure. Even had a camera along (afterwards, we noted that not a single frame had been captured for posterity), just in case of the extraordinary.
Throw in some little kids with their own private garden of icicles, and the freedom to throw lumps of snow at each other. Switch the boot order, to ensure maximum discomfort. Wait, patiently. We heard the sirens first; in fact, that’s all we really heard. This was a parade devoid of marching bands. The “reverse Hallowe’en” distribution of candy canes and caramels ensured the interest of the smaller folk.
In keeping with the small town character, Santa knew everyone by name, especially the older folk. That’s an important detail, in figuring out the age of the fellow.
And as the last fire truck rolled out of sight, we joined the queue ourselves. Market time. A need to assure that turkey would figure on the holiday menu, by shopping for the flash frozen variety. And when the power failed, just as we started to uncart at the checkout, it all seemed right. For the detail, the cash register continued to work, although electronic payment and conveyors were out of order. The head grocer went outside to fire up the gas genny, and extension cords draped from till to till. A holiday motif.
