The Exhausted Dad: Music makes the parade

The only parade I ever remember enjoying was the one inserted in the Sunday newspaper.

That little magazine, founded in 1941, ran in hundreds of newspapers until 2022, and now lives exclusively online. I never understood why they called it Parade, especially since it was consistently more entertaining than anything at a traditional street parade.

To be clear: I don’t have beef with parades or the people who participate in or attend them. I just don’t enjoy them. It’s usually too hot outside, and there’s always a bunch of standing around waiting to look at familiar things. Fire trucks, people holding political signs… I’ve seen it all already!

Kids enjoy parades, I’m guessing because of the candy that’s routinely distributed by strangers on roller skates, community theater actors and (shudders) clowns. But I’m an adult! I can walk into any gas station and buy myself a bag of Skittles, no questions asked. I’m not trying to brag, but I’ve worked hard in life so I can enjoy that occasional gas station goodie.

As a parent to four children, I’ve been to my share of parades, usually under duress. Too many people! Too much sun! Too many (potential) clowns! I’ve avoided all parades since well before the start of the pandemic, and, if you’re wondering if I petitioned the CDC to declare all parades to be “forever unsafe,” well, I didn’t, but only because my wife told me I was being petty.

Recently, however, I had no choice but to attend a parade. A big parade in the middle of downtown Spokane… with other people… and heat… and maybe clowns? My daughter’s sixth grade band was set to appear in the Junior Lilac Parade. For the first time, my daughter would be publicly performing outside from the school gym.

She didn’t seem terribly excited about it either.

Her: “It’s like a mile! In the sun! And we have to play the whole time!”

Nevertheless, she enjoys playing her clarinet and takes pride in performing well. She knows I don’t like crowds too, so the fact that she insisted on my attendance meant I couldn’t worm my way out of this one.

Even though my daughter rode the school bus to the parade site, the rest of Team Wilson had to arrive early downtown anyway. We wanted to be near the front of the parade route (so we could leave as soon as possible, obviously), which meant hunting for street parking and claiming a segment of curb that could fit our party. We carried a set of portable chairs too… or, correction, I carried all the kids’ portable chairs because it was “too hot” for them to hold anything.

Forty minutes prior to the start, we couldn’t find space on the shaded side of the street. So we settled on the sunny side and baked while my 5-year-old son repeatedly asked me when the parade was going to start (I lost count at question No. 30). Luckily, a steady breeze kept us relatively cool while we people-watched all the weirdos around us. I wondered if the guy with the beard that went down to his ankles was a parent to one of the performers or just a hairy parade enthusiast. Some impressive facial hair either way.

Finally, the parade started, and my wife delivered the best news I’d heard all day. Our daughter’s band would be the ninth entry in a field of more than 50. We’d be outta there in 10 minutes tops! I began to plan my exit route before the first band played a single note.

Then, a funny thing happened. I watched the first middle school band march by us and… get this… I began tapping my toes. The kids sounded good! And they weren’t even any kids I knew!

Then another band walked past. They sounded great too, with their marching in sync to boot! Do I like big band music? Or, wait, that’s definitely a Bon Jovi song. No wonder it sounds awesome.

When my daughter’s band approached, I began to cheer like a crazy person. They played “Come Go With Me,” a fun choice that sounded much better as a band compared to those times I heard my daughter practicing just the clarinet parts in the basement while I was studying for finals. I whooped and hollered as she passed, and I was shocked (and proud) that she managed to hold her composure in the face of an embarrassing parent).

Once her band turned the corner out of sight, my wife glanced over at me anticipating my request to leave. But I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to listen to more bands! I could hear the faint notes of the Mos Eisley Cantina song from “Star Wars” approaching. If you hear the Mos Eisley Cantina song, the only sensible thing to do is be respectful and listen to a band interpret one of history’s greatest musical arrangements.

Was this the start of my newfound love of parades? Not really. We stayed until the 30th entry passed then rushed out of the area before we could even see if Nadine Woodward was sitting in the truck advertising her mayoral re-election bid.

The other kids had a handful of candy they collected during the parade (thankfully no clowns), so of course I had to carry all the chairs back to the car. They offered me one of their street tootsie rolls in exchange of my carrying services, which I declined. My wife used her phone to record a terrific video of my daughter’s band as they passed, and so we have the memory of me enjoying a parade forever.

No guarantees I’ll be attending the next one.

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Tyler Wilson is a freelance writer, full-time student and parent to four kids, ages 5-11. He is tired. He can be reached at twilson@cdapress.com.