A Main Street Fourth
There’s nothing quite like a Fourth of July parade in Middle America. Yes, it’s patriotic, but most of them are, no matter where they take place. But here in Ames, you get a different feeling when you watch our Fourth parade. Our parade — which kicked off promptly at 11 this morning — somehow makes you prouder. It also somehow makes you feel closer to the people around you and the folks in the parade. It’s one of those feel-good events that actually makes you feel — well, good.
I’ve been to several Fourth parades in Ames over the past few years, and I’ve never failed to be impressed by the crowds. There were plenty of kids around me today, of course — kids of all ages. And, of course, their parents were there, admonishing them not to run into the streets and reminding them to keep putting on sunblock. Grandparents were there in force, as well — and they were the ones taking most of the photos as the parade marched by.
Main Street was jammed with spectators for our annual march — and so were Douglas and Fifth. Many had arrived early, to get the shady spots under the business overhangs. But many more simply sat curbside, oblivious to the sun or the mid-80’s temperatures it brought. Many of the spectators had brought their own flags — but others received them free of charge, inside the American Legion building on Main. There, Legion members not only dispensed flags — but free ice cream, as well — first-come, first-served. The line was long when I arrived, and I heard rumblings the ice cream was nearly gone, so I was getting set to leave and let others enjoy whatever was left when a little boy who was in line ahead of me turned and offered me one of the two flags he was carrying. I was touched, of course — and turned him down with thanks. Yeah. Iowa nice. He personified it.
What appeared to be every possible mechanical device made its way into today’s parade. Fire trucks. Police cars. City maintenance vehicles. Private vehicles owned by private businesses. Old-time cars. But this parade is not about vehicles — it’s about people. Hundreds and hundreds of people marched or rode along the route — including our mayor, John Haila, who walked by dressed in a pullover and shorts — and every city council member. It’s just what you do here in Ames if you’re an elected official.
Many of those marching walked up to the oodles and oodles of young spectators and handed out candy. The kids were delighted, of course, and their parents were delighted for them. Of course, there were bands — one group of tuba players, followed by part of the Ames High marching band, followed, a bit farther down the road, by part of the Ames Municipal Band. The Ames Muni band members were seated on the back of a big flatbed truck, and as they rolled by our part of the crowd, they struck up “Stars and Stripes Forever.”
And everyone in the crowd near me — every man and woman and child — spontaneously began clapping to the tune. It was an emotional moment for me, one I wish every American of whatever political stripe could have witnessed. To me, it showed that no matter how badly our country is fractured politically — and we are, indeed, fractured — something like this can bring us together, even if it’s only for a moment.
The parade lasted a delightful hour. But our Fourth celebration had begun earlier, at 8:30 this morning, when thousands of us had stood in line in front of City Hall on Clark Avenue for one of the most enduring and likeable events of its kind around here — our annual free pancake breakfast. That’s right — the city provides free pancakes and sausages and orange juice for whoever shows up. And people do show up — not because we “need” the free food, but because it’s one of those traditions ingrained in the fiber of our community. You go because you’ve always gone, and that’s all there is to it.
It was a warm morning, and I did not envy the food preparers, who were in a giant tent in front of City Hall. It was hot inside, and those workers were set up in two large “assembly lines,” moving two big pancake spreaders that were on long tracks. Each spreader unloaded four pieces of dough side-by-side before a worker moved the spreader to its next “line,” where four more pieces were unloaded. Hundreds of pancakes at a time were made that way, and four of them were put on each plate. Then came the sausages, and the orange juice.
We could sit outside under large tents, but those seats were already taken by the time I got there. So I sat in the sun and watched our mayor and city council members walk around and serve water to anyone who wanted it. That’s another part of this charming tradition — the part that brings our elected officials into close contact with us on the Fourth.
Last night, Ames put on its annual fireworks show outside Jack Trice Stadium at Iowa State University. Again, thousands attended, and a few hundred of us watched the show not from the stadium parking lot, but at the adjacent Reiman Gardens. It was a lovely setting on a gorgeous night. Our daughter Amy — visiting from California — joined us in packing a picnic dinner and setting up shop on one of the Gardens’ lush lawns.
We were joined a bit later by our friends Steve and Beth. Around 9:30, the first fireworks exploded high above us. And they just kept coming, for about a half-hour, each set featuring fireworks of every color, followed by another, seemingly bigger group of fireworks, until the traditional finale. I’ve always liked fireworks, especially the finales, when it’s simply a matter of sending up everything you have left, all at once.
It was a great show — one we had seen nearly 40 years earlier, when we lived here the first time. The crowd was big and friendly, and in these contentious times in our great country, that’s something not to be taken lightly.
The Fourth in Middle America. I’m glad we’re here.