Worcester On Parade

Anyone who’s read this blog for a while knows about my fascination with parades in general and bagpipes specifically. These disparate worlds collided yesterday on Park Avenue in Worcester for the annual St Patrick’s Day parade. I’ve always meant to go to this event but each year found a reason not to. Last year it was the six foot snow drifts that lined the parade route. No such problem yesterday with temperatures in the mid-60s and just about perfect weather.

Start of the Parade

I first had to emerge from the self-induced fog of a Saturday night spent with some special people down in a Rhode Island Irish pub. Some things are easier to recover from than others and reveling in the memories of a night well spent helps. The Keene Friend was denied one of his patented early morning exits by agreeing to go the parade with me. I awoke to find him awaiting his required walk with Buddy who was just about tearing down the basement door to get at him.

Bagpipes!

I had what I thought was a solid plan for parking near the parade route. I know the neighborhoods fairly well and planned on parking on the street a short distance from Elm Park where the reviewing stand was set up. Unfortunately a couple thousand other people had the same idea and it was mass confusion in the selected neighborhood. I admitted defeat and parked at my company which was a bit further away.

And Another!

Elm Park was truly transformed into a sea of green garbed families. A race was just finishing up as we walked up and all of the participants were awarded shirts with the Irish tri-color which added to the explosion of color. I reasoned we should set up near the reviewing stand since that would insure the bands would actually be playing music when they passed by us. Nothing is more frustrating in watching a parade than to have the band stroll by between songs with just the drums playing.

The Two Announcing Ladies

We initially thought our location was prime as we were directly across the street from the reviewing stand. That is, until the kindly pair of old ladies seized control of the microphone and impressive speaker set up. Instead of just announcing what group was passing by, the ladies, who had clearly patronized the nearby beer tent, conducted a non-stop narration that evolved to something akin to a stream of consciousness reveal. A perfect example was when a high school band was passing by and one of the ladies noticed the baton gals suddenly said, “Oh look – twirlers!”. While this was a bit annoying in the beginning it evolved over time to high comedy and was hugely entertaining. One even invited her 96 year old father up to talk about a recent fall. He received a thunderous ovation from the crowd.

The bagpipe bands were all that I hoped for but they all looked a little gassed by the time we saw them. The reviewing stand was at the end of the two mile long parade route. They all rallied for the finish line though and I heard several renditions of the Minstrel Boy and oddly Scotland the Brave. I also realized just how good the British Army bands I recently saw were in comparison. By the time the fourth bagpipe band passed (two hours after the start) the old paratrooper back was barking a little bit. We eschewed staying around for the last division which was composed entirely of Shriners (at least that’s what our beloved narrators announced).

Irish Dancers

Fire Department Received a Well Earned Ovation

The walk back to the car seemed a little longer; especially when I had to awkwardly bend over to retrieve something. Keene Friend offered some amusing anecdotes about the lack of form I exhibited. He had to take off as soon as we returned, much to Buddy’s consternation. The Wonder Pooch sulked the rest of the day away. I spent the rest of the day cooking and washing clothes. The day before I finished off what should be the last puzzle of my wife’s absence. I also received a bon voyage photo from the ABFA and my Favorite Son and spoke at length with the California Contingent where the First Blog Reader was in high chirping mode. A very fun and exhausting weekend; only twelve more days until my Favorite Panamanian returns!  

The Last Puzzle

Bon Voyage