Joanne Sherman’s column: About this

I’ll see you on Monday.

Occasionally I’ve missed the fireworks, the Firemen’s Chicken Barbecue or the Country Fair, but I never miss the Memorial Day parade. We even postponed an RV trip to Alaska when I’d mixed up dates and had us scheduled to leave two days before the parade. We still headed north to Alaska, but not until 20 minutes after the parade ended. 

This Memorial Day I’ll do what I’ve always done and stake out my favorite curb-side spot in the median across from the library. Actually, I have two favorite spots. Since our short parade passes twice, after the first go-round, I cross the street so I can see it from the opposite side. 

Two parades for the price of one!

Even though I’ve seen them all, I specifically remember a particular Memorial Day parade when I had to share my favorite spot with a visitor from Rockville Centre and his little boy. The boy, about four, was upset because he wanted to go to the beach. 

“What’s this all about, anyhow?” he asked his father.

“It’s just a parade,” the man said. “You’ll see fire engines and stuff. That’s what it’s about.”

His words rubbed me the wrong way, but back then I was too polite to give a stranger a dope slap, though my hand did twitch a little. Just a parade? Well! If that’s what he thought, I felt kind of sorry for him. Fortunately, before I could work myself into a lather, my attention was drawn to the first group of marchers moving toward us.

The Legionnaires always lead off. At that parade, many of them were veterans of World War II, Korea and Vietnam. Some rode in cars, but those who were able marched in well-remembered cadence. 

Across from me was a stranger. Slightly stooped, he rested most of his weight on one of those three-legged canes. A veteran, he wore a red poppy and a legionnaire’s hat from a different post. As the color guard neared, he straightened, stood tall and his palm snapped to his forehead. Eyes forward, his chin trembled but his hand was steady as he held that perfect salute, long after the flag passed.

“Remembering,” I wanted to tell that little boy. That’s what this is about.

When the fire trucks passed, a familiar fireman was missing from what used to be “his” truck. But in a way he was still there, because the fireman behind that wheel was his grandson. 

A tradition that passes through decades and generations. That’s what this parade is about. 

Next came the scouts of various sizes. Some of them were great-grandchildren of the legionnaires and firemen. That year, an ambitious Brownie troop added a float! It was a wagon festooned with upright cutouts of children of all colors holding cutout hands under a banner with the words: “HEAL THE WORLD!”

In this little town where we sometimes delight in creating drama, making mountains out of molehills, we forget that in other places, children as precious as our own Brownies are suffering.

Believing that it’s possible to heal the world, that’s what this is about. 

After the second loop, the parade route ended at the Legion Hall. The legionnaires, Fire Department, EMS crews, school band and hundreds of spectators gathered at the flag pole for the National Anthem. Nearby I could see a local carpenter take off his baseball cap and hold it against his white T-shirt, over his heart. 

Being mindful of the sacrifices of others. That’s what this is about. 

Nowadays, we finish up at the Legion. But back then, ceremonies continued at Bridge Street and the crowd down at Piccozzi’s dock was made up of those who marched and Islanders. Most visitors had gone on to their homes and hotels, and one little guy, to the beach.  The smaller group clustered at the dock stood solemnly quiet as an Eagle Scout and two Cub Scouts dropped a memorial wreath into the water. 

Just the year before a Gold-Star mother whose son died in Vietnam did that. But she, too, was no longer with us. 

As the wreath floated away there was no noise except for the sound of the bugler on Piccozzi’s hill, playing taps. Being made aware through quiet reminders that time does not pass, we do. That’s what this is about. 

And then it was over. We wiped our eyes and headed off to the various Memorial Day activities. 

Perhaps when seen through the eyes of a stranger, what happens here on Memorial Day is just a parade with fire engines and stuff. But we know better, don’t we? What happens here is that in the midst of one of the busiest weekends, we come together to pause and remember. 

That’s what this is about.