Steel Days Coming and Going

Marc and I have been to a lot of Steel Days Parades.
In the early days, we were both shooting pictures and talking to people and writing stories about the people on the floats, in the cars and marching in the bands.
We'd set up our chairs (borrowed out of the office right behind us) and watch the whole thing, waving to the mayor and the beauty queens and taking note of which floats won which prizes.
Some years, we watched to see who read the parade programs that Marc had hastily put together the night before, programs full of local stories and ads and passed out by the publisher's kids.
Other years, we ducked as the firemen sprayed us with water.
Most years we plucked up candy from the road. (For a few years, there was no candy because somebody's child had run into a tire on a float and hurt himself.)
It's always been entertaining.
We've waved and smiled and joked.
It's become a tradition that we follow today even though the American Fork Citizen has long been sold and remade into a gift shop.
We ride our bikes down the road, eat with the American Fork Band at the band pancake breakfast, and then park in front of the building where we lived and worked for many precious years.
It brings back a lot of memories for us as we sit on our camp chairs and watch the world go by.
I think we both miss those days when Marc hefted a camera on his shoulder and walked the parade several times over as he chased the perfect Kodak moment.
We liked being in the know and being friends with the politicians, the stars of the town and the kids.
Today, we sit with grandkids and help them beat out the competition for free candy and we admire the colors and the cheerleaders and karate kids and the occasional traveling jazz trumpet player. We know fewer players. We have less to say and do.
But it's still a hometown parade for us filled with heart and warmth, Americana the Beautiful.
Please let us keep sitting here.