Small Town, 4th of July
The 4th of July is a holiday made for small towns. Though the fire works are bigger in New York and the President addresses the country from one of the most population dense areas in these United States, it is the small towns that really know how to celebrate our nation's birthday. For a town of 90,000 we sure are small sometimes.
The red, white and blue stream into the 200 year old streets in the center of town on the backs and heads of the mothers, fathers, and their smallest children (the high-schoolers are much too old to dress for the occasion, even when their parents aren't). Flags wave and dogs wear bandannas around their already too warm necks. The announcer begins the parade from his post at the old theater (the theater is new, but we pretend it has been there as long as the rest of the pony express route on the street). We all stand to sing the national anthem and before we can sit down again, the soldiers walk through and get everyone on their feet again in gratitude.
The general store on the parade route is crowded with dad's sent to retrieve water bottles and kids attempting to reach the candy in the big barrels lining the walls. Though the town marching band (comprised of about 9 people) and the mayor receive an adequate amount of applause, it is the boys gun club, the Temecula Republicans and the Navy sailors that receive the most. It is as if our "little" town wanted to make sure everyone knew we still had the right to teach boys to shoot things and that the democratic club has a long way to go before it will want to parade itself in public.
The DAR and the quilting club make a strong showing in the red, white and blue hat department, and the cowboys groomed their horses cleaner than they themselves had been all year. As soon as the parade is finished everyone will move to the newly renamed Ronald Reagan town park and visit the many booths for churches, and the Temecula historical society hoping to recruit more people to their cause and save the neighboring old farm Vail Ranch. As families finish up their barbeques we will all gather again and watch the fireworks shot out of the fire station on the hill and the firemen will spend thr whole show running up and down the hill putting out the fires the somewhat unsuccesful fire works will inevitably start. I think that is why we built a fire station up there in the first place. Every 4th of July it pays for itself.
I couldn't help but love the town a little more today. We are so strange at heart. Smack dab in the middle of Southern California, we forget our overcrowded freeways, proximity to LA, and immense population of Hummers and we gather together as if it were 1955 in Lake Woebegone. We wave flags that the boy scouts give us and clap for the beauty queens no one knew we had. On the 4th, life is good, America is great, and we love our small town.
The red, white and blue stream into the 200 year old streets in the center of town on the backs and heads of the mothers, fathers, and their smallest children (the high-schoolers are much too old to dress for the occasion, even when their parents aren't). Flags wave and dogs wear bandannas around their already too warm necks. The announcer begins the parade from his post at the old theater (the theater is new, but we pretend it has been there as long as the rest of the pony express route on the street). We all stand to sing the national anthem and before we can sit down again, the soldiers walk through and get everyone on their feet again in gratitude.
The general store on the parade route is crowded with dad's sent to retrieve water bottles and kids attempting to reach the candy in the big barrels lining the walls. Though the town marching band (comprised of about 9 people) and the mayor receive an adequate amount of applause, it is the boys gun club, the Temecula Republicans and the Navy sailors that receive the most. It is as if our "little" town wanted to make sure everyone knew we still had the right to teach boys to shoot things and that the democratic club has a long way to go before it will want to parade itself in public.
The DAR and the quilting club make a strong showing in the red, white and blue hat department, and the cowboys groomed their horses cleaner than they themselves had been all year. As soon as the parade is finished everyone will move to the newly renamed Ronald Reagan town park and visit the many booths for churches, and the Temecula historical society hoping to recruit more people to their cause and save the neighboring old farm Vail Ranch. As families finish up their barbeques we will all gather again and watch the fireworks shot out of the fire station on the hill and the firemen will spend thr whole show running up and down the hill putting out the fires the somewhat unsuccesful fire works will inevitably start. I think that is why we built a fire station up there in the first place. Every 4th of July it pays for itself.
I couldn't help but love the town a little more today. We are so strange at heart. Smack dab in the middle of Southern California, we forget our overcrowded freeways, proximity to LA, and immense population of Hummers and we gather together as if it were 1955 in Lake Woebegone. We wave flags that the boy scouts give us and clap for the beauty queens no one knew we had. On the 4th, life is good, America is great, and we love our small town.
posted by Cate at 12:58 PM
2 Comments:
So there's this new documentary on PBR, and I was reading a review of it and thought of you. It's called "Rank." I thought you might want to watch it!
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