Flag, the Fourth and Family

I've gotta hurry this morning because a lot has to happen by 8:15 when we'll get in the car and head to town. This year Bill and I are participating in the Fourth of July Parade together. Now, he's done it a lot of years with his tuba in the town band, and at least 30 or so years ago, I used to be a staple in the parade. Our 4-H horse club always dressed up and often won the mounted group trophy.

I don't think you'd catch me riding a horse in that parade these days. I guess we were oblivious to the possibilities of going splat on the hot pavement way back when. Over the past three decades or so, I've seldom missed a parade and have usually had the loudest mouth along the sidelines, heckling every familiar face I know riding by on a float, driving a logging truck or marching to the beat of whatever rhythm moved them.

This year the tables will turn. It will be good to see if there's anyone out there in the crowds as obnoxious as I am as we walk through town with the Panhandle Alliance for Education (PAFE). The honchos invited Bill and me to join them after Bill submitted the highest bid for Cheryl Klein's painting of Lincoln School for the cover of my new book. All that money went to PAFE as well as nearly $500 from book sales the night of our event at the Seasons at Sandpoint.

Though it will be fun, I'll kinda miss my usual role of standing near the Alpine Shop with extended family and friends. Last year we paid special attention as Skip Pucci took my mother through the parade in his horse-drawn cart. She had the time of her life, so much so that she entertained the idea for a while of bringing her golf cart to town, decorating it, asking Helen Thompson along and going as Lady Liberty and Uncle Sam. We always yell really loud when the Thompson tractors come through the parade cuz they're extended family. I just don't know why a golf cart couldn't join Jim's fleet of John Deeres. Maybe if Mother painted it green and yellow.

Anyway, I've gotta water the garden and put up the flag. I love flying my flag on holidays and cherish the sight of any flag fluttering in the breeze wherever it's displayed. Two of my favorite red, white and blue images of past times included the Fourth of July flag at our little rental house on the folks' farm many, many years ago and a scene at the Porthill Cemetery one Memorial Day as we drove through the farm country near the Canadian border. In both cases, the flags suggested a sense of history in their settings---the chipped white paint on side of the little old house on what was once a dairy farm and green green grass surrounding silent graves at Porthill.

There's a grandeur in seeing flags fly and a remembrance of all we cherish that have served and gone on.

After the parade, we'll rush home, get things organized and get ready for a family barbecue here at the Lovestead. I think we'll have at least 13 today, and I don't know what the plan will be for fireworks, but we'll stick around here to make sure Lily and the dogs do okay with all the razzle dazzle in the neighborhood night sky.

Happy Fourth of July to all. Maybe I'll see you at the parade, and it's okay to heckle me. I deserve it after all these years on the other side.

One more thing, speaking of parades. Annie's posted photos of her Mount Rainier adventure along with some "tasteful" photos of the Fremont Fair Summer Solstice Parade in Seattle. That's the one where all the artfully painted nude bodies ride bicycles up and down the street. I just keep thinking of the sweat and those sadistic bicycle seats. Ouch! (www.nnlove.blogspot.com)