Sandpoint, ID

Nothing stirs patriotism like an Independence Day parade, and the flags were out in earnest for Sandpoint’s 2008 Fourth of July procession.

Placards on signposts along the parade route had warned us for days: NO PARKING ON JULY 4TH. Obedient citizens left their cars, vans, SUV’s and trucks elsewhere; instead, wherever there was a bit of elbow room, they plunked down lawn chairs, lounges, blankets, strollers, towels, skateboards, a pair of flip-flops…whatever it took to hold their places at the curb! Many spectators were hoping to get a good look at family members who’d been enlisted to march along with the entourage. Others came to express their support for democratic ideals. Everyone came for the fun.

We arrived a little after 10 am, when the main spectacle got underway (the kids’ parade started an hour earlier, but we’d milked two extra hours of sleep from the holiday morning, so we missed it). Seeking shade, we tucked up under a plum tree on Cedar Street. As it turned out, the sun was already filtered by a screen of clouds, and a light breeze blew across the crowd. It was the perfect morning for a parade.
As the cacophony of horns, bands, horses, and (yes!) lawnmowers grew, it was difficult to decide where to look first. Just as a group of dancers drew our gaze in one direction, a loud blast from a blunderbuss or a siren diverted our attention elsewhere.
While the various floats, displays, decorated vehicles and marchers vied for center stage, we got caught up in the antics of the assemblage along the sidewalk: a young girl pressing her palms to her ears as a truck’s air horn brayed; a terrier in a man’s arms going orbital at the sight of other canines in the parade; a toddler on her dad’s shoulders, pushing down against his ears in an effort to get a better view; a hopeful boy, reaching out to stroke the fur of a dog with a “Please Adopt Me” banner draped over its back.

Everywhere, people forgot that 24 hours earlier they had been chained to desks and shackled to responsibilities. Boisterous debates about how hamburgers taste best—whether charcoal-broiled or gas-grilled—took precedence over discussions of business, obligations, or gas prices.
For just a couple of hours, as we recalled what makes us Americans, everyone seemed genuinely liberated.