With a language we all understand
With an equal opportunity
For all to sing, dance and clap their hands..."
–Stevie Wonder, Sir Duke
Considering how divisive the state of the political, social and culture wars still are, locally and globally, it's refreshing to have moments of peaceful community assembly and transitional healing. Especially for all our children watching the parade and participating in the parade. Children who become collateral damage of unsettling change. Children who become catalysts of transformative change.
Bryce, our youngest, just wanted to watch the parade with her mom. Amy, my wife, said she'd take Bryce down towards to the end of the parade route. She really wanted to see the flag girls in the various school bands that would traverse the parade route. Later, when Beatrice and I met up with them, Bea wanted me to march with her band, it was fascinating to watch Bryce transfixed by the flag girls (and boys -- yes, there were boys flagging too).
"Bryce," I called out to her.
She turned. Her and her older sister were standing on the street a few feet in front of us.
"You want to do that someday?" I asked.
"Yes!" she said with a big enthusiastic nod, and then went back to watching the parade.
I looked at Amy and we both smiled big. From flag girl to astronaut, dream big my daughter. Be whatever you want to be, I thought.
Earlier, Amy and Bryce dropped Beatrice and I off at the start of the parade. Bea's been playing the flute this year, after changing from the trombone the year before, and is now in intermediate band. She loves it and has been mentoring beginning flute players as well. Her school's band combined with another to march together in the holiday parade and they all practiced so hard for weeks. One time when I picked up Bea from band practice after school, I got to watch them practice marching and playing their instruments. For those who have never done it, it isn't easy. I struggle talking and walking at the same time. Their awesome band teacher teaches both schools and truly inspires the kids.
In between talking with some of the other parents while we waited for the parade to begin, I watched Beatrice interact with her bandmates and her teacher. I was so proud. She was so much more comfortable in her own skin than I was at her age. Plus, her and the rest of the band sounded great, and watching them practice with the middle school band and the award-winning high school band before the parade started increased the parental pride even further.
"Bea, you should totally stay in band through middle school and high school. The high school has won a lot of awards this year," I said. "The more you play the better you get."
"I think I want to," she said.
"You like playing the flute, right?"
"Yes, I do."
"There you go."
Then we were off marching along the parade route, Bea's combined-school band alternating between Dr. Rock and Jingle Bells, each rotation seemingly sounding better than the last. Or, maybe I just wanted it to sound better, with the community around us cheering the kids on.
All us parents who traveled along with the band took multiple pictures and videos. The continuous rain we'd been experienced since Thanksgiving thankfully took a break. The community clapped and waved, we clapped and waved, some danced in the street like Bryce and even the chief of police, and for a couple of hours the local social spectrum shone like a rainy day rainbow. All the colors lighting up the kids faces, including our own, with the hope of diverse cohesion without denying the necessary friction of potential positive change our differences can make. In other words, civility doesn't have to be a weapon used to keep others down. It should celebrate the awareness of all the others, because we are the others to each other.
As Santa brought the holiday parade to an end, I cheered for the catalysts of transformative change.
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