Let's Have A Parade

Every year, where I'm from (much like where you are from probably), we have a festival.  And festivals mean parades.  A parade means:  the VFW Color Guard proudly bearing our flags...

And beauty queens, smiling and waving...

And this kid marching with his acoustic guitar...

And brass instruments.  I love sousaphones and trumpets!

Big horses pulling wagons...

And sweet old ladies in go-karts.

And scary floats...

And mini horses pulling smaller wagons.

And on September 11, it seems fitting to see so many fire trucks and police cars.  I was sitting in the student center at my university on 9/11/01.  I remember watching the plane hit the second tower, calling all my friends to see if they knew yet, going into to my AmeriCorp job and watching the TV we kept in the teacher's lounge so the students couldn't see.  I remember the fear.  And I remember see the nation come together in hope.  We remember because how could we ever really forget.

And, from big to small (and adorable), we have to stick together.