Eternal Sojourners by Darryl Ponicsán

Author:Darryl Ponicsán
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781510749146
Publisher: Skyhorse
Published: 2019-10-01T16:00:00+00:00

www.cdbaby.com/as-chaos-unfolds

The Fourth of July parade made a loop around Spanish Circle and was known as, “The best darn parade in America,” sometimes amended to, “for a town this size,” and further amended to, “in a circular route.” Everyone went to see the parade, arriving before dawn to stake out favorite spots and to set up folding lawn chairs and coolers full of gin and some beer as well because of the heat. Sidewalks were jammed, and some chairs had to be set up behind the crowds at the front line and into the park itself. I had to walk in the middle of the street to make forward progress. The parade hadn’t started so others were doing the same thing.

I enjoy parades if they have drum and bugle corps, preferably playing Beatles songs, and if they have majorettes. And tubas, the more tubas the better.

If I could find some vantage point I was prepared to watch at least some of the parade. If not, I would keep on walking, maybe until I dropped. A woman called my name. I looked along the mass of people. Sandy Fleck darted out of the crowd toward me. “Happy Fourth of July!” she cried with childlike enthusiasm.

“Same to you, and many more.” (The only holidays I recognize are Valentine’s Day and Thanksgiving. Love and gratitude.)

She grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the crowd and to a canopied spot she had claimed the night before. “You have to sit with us,” she said. Doc was under the canopy sitting next to a young black man who was also in a wheel chair. Young to me. He looked to be in his mid-forties. A folding table held fruit and bagels, gin and sparkling water, and a blender rigged to a battery.

“Hey, DK, your first Maragate Fourth,” Doc said.

“Yes, but my fourth Maragate first.”

Doc looked at the man sitting next to him and cocked his head as if to say, that’s the way he is. (Though I’ve tried to change, Lord knows.)

“DK, this is Terry, my homie from rehab. Welcome to the Crips and the Bloods.”

Terry grinned. I bent forward and shook his hand. In another minute, I had a Ramos Fizz cocktail in that hand. Fleck and Terry had already had a few.

“The best parade in America,” said Terry.

“For a town this size,” said Doc.

“I can’t wait,” I said.

“Look at all these people,” said Sandy.

“I know, right?”

“Relax, DK, you might have a good time.”

People spend so much effort, time, and money trying to have a good time. I’ve never understood it.

The theme was Salute to the Arts, and after a ragtag squad of old soldiers in bits and pieces of vintage uniforms carried the flag to open the parade, the Grand Marshall, a watercolorist wearing too much makeup, rode in an open 1955 Cadillac. She waved to the crowd with the talented hand that had five times won the Jerky Festival poster contest.

Mayor Hirkill and the town council followed in other classic convertibles, and

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