I had thought to write about something possibly controversial for July 4, but it will wait until tomorrow. Because . . .
We have a tradition where we live of having a Fourth of July parade which consists mostly of golf carts decorated to the T, a couple convertibles, a couple bicyclists, and one woman in a scooter with her dogs. It’s been going on since the dawn of the development.
This year, as usual, Earl and I sat at our curb as spectators as the parade rolled by. There were horns and cow bells (Mostly me with the cow bell) and waves and cheers. The lead golf cart blared patriotic music. What struck me most was how many people participated.
We are an aging community. Many of our members are on walkers, have a variety of health issues, and need professional help. Yet, for this annual celebration so many people made a supreme effort to join in. I saw neighbors I hadn’t seen in months.
After the parade, which also included a stop at a lemonade stand where you could get a spiked or unspiked beverage, we convened in the clubhouse for hot dogs with buns, baked beans, chips, and an ice cream bar.
It was tight with the number of attendees and their walkers and poles. It was noisy too. But for a few hours, all of us – mostly in our eighties and nineties – felt young.
Again.
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