Parade Time
My son-in-law said it best last night:” I’m about paraded out.” Amen, Cody, Amen.
We have been in Fairhope for a couple of days experiencing the Mardi Gras parades. Believe it or not, it all revolves around the Christian calendar. Yesterday was Fat Tuesday and today is the first day of the Lenten season which are the 40 days before Easter (excluding Sundays).
Mobile likes to boast about being the home of Mardi Gras, before New Orleans stole it and all its elaborate parades. “Throw me something Mister” is still ringing in my ears. MY dearly departed mother-in-law, Nello, loved a Mardi Gras parade along with her dear late husband GaGa. They just celebrated their own Mardi Gras parade on the Streets of Gold.
I have seen my share of parades through the years. Growing up in Leighton, the main two which come to mind were the Homecoming parade and the Rodeo parade. The Homecoming parade in a small town was a BIG deal back then. Each class would take weeks to nail chicken wire around a trailer bed and stuff it with colored tissue or toilet paper to form the skirting around the float.
I’ve said it many times before but one of the joys of growing up in Mayberry Unlimited meant embracing any event out of the norm. It could also be the Homecoming dance, Sadie Hawkins dance, the junior play, the annual rodeo or a womanless wedding in the auditorium.
What makes parades so special? I think it boils down to one feeling: happiness. Riders on the Mardi Gras floats all had huge smiles on their faces as they threw Vietnamese made junk and Moon Pies that people fought over like it was gold-plated. When you see riders with bandanas covering baldheads from chemo treatments, that cup or plastic beads mean just a little more.
Probably my favorite Mardi Gras parade was Endymion in New Orleans, years ago when my good friend, Pete McGinnis was the defensive coordinator at Tulane. The coaches were able to secure a corner lot on the route and cook enough gumbo and jambalaya to feed the entire paradors. I found out the most cherished real estate for the parade was the small area that housed the Porta john. It was the first time I ever saw men and women paying $10 for a quick visit to the portable throne. The throws included stuffed animals, caps and rubber footballs.
In Mobile, the infamous Comic Cowboy parade pokes fun at everything related to Mobile and politics. Their floats are simple with plywood signs on each end of the wagon. Here are a few of the catchy signs: “What’s the difference in Auburn football and cereal? Cereal deserves to be in a bowl.” “Tommy Tuberville is the only ex-Auburn coach who has to work for a living.” “AJ McCarron’s political career lasted about as long as his NFL career.” There was a cartoon of a person with a bag over their head: “Alabama football; where even the students are entering the transfer portal.” And if you know about the recent ruling in Alabama, separating the public and private schools in the playoffs: “AHSAA: where the public doesn’t allow you to play with your privates.”
Last night at midnight, the streets in Mobile and New Orleans became spotless as they were swept and washed down. The parades are in the rearview mirror as we begin the 40 days of Lent.
The Rodeo in Leighton was held on the weekend after we finished spring training football. Preston Fowlkes would bring his rodeo production to the football field which had just been plowed under. Fences were erected leading back to the bucking chutes. On Friday afternoon, there was a parade which featured the CCHS band, volunteer fire departments and every horse and rider in the Shoals area. The parade route was the same as the Homecoming route. I can remember Sheila Nichols Gargis as the beautiful Rodeo Queen in the sixties.
One of the first parades I can remember as a kid was the Florence State homecoming parade on Court Street in Florence. It was hot enough that September day to fry an egg on the sidewalk. For some unknown reason, I insisted on going barefooted. My consoling dad (pun intended) said that’s fine, but I had better not hear any complaining.
My feet were about to get 3rd degree burns on the soles and Daddy ignored me like I had the plague. Luckily, my Aunt Pug Norton was with us and she spent a nickel for a snow cone for me. I spread the ice on the asphalt and stood on it. That’s probably the reason today that my feet are so tender, I don’t even walk barefooted on carpet.
We used to always joke about how bad our football team was when we started at Louisville, and we saw more Homecoming queens than all the judges combined. Often, our team buses had to weave their way through the parades on Saturday morning. It’s even worse when you are down 3 touchdowns at half while the home team celebrates their Homecoming festivities.
I have been to a Mule Day parade; tractor pull parades and Little League championship parades. When Susan worked in Montgomery, we went to the inauguration parades in the Capitol City. They didn’t need hot air balloons. There was enough hot air coming from the politicians.
Until next year, we can take our Mardi Gras beads, cups and plastic junk and put it in the attic with our other bags of Mardi Gras beads, cups and plastic junk from previous years. The green, gold and purple colors are etched in my mind.
“Throw me something Mister.”
Laissez les bon temps rouler.