Today I trekked three-miles roundtrip to Meijer to pick up fresh produce which I packed into my schlep bag and my shoulder is feeling it tonight as I write this post. For years I carried a purse and a tote bag on the bus, gradually paring down to one backpack, thus easing the burden on my right shoulder. I much prefer walking with my hands and arms free but this was a mini-shopping trip via foot power rather than using the car. Despite it being early morn, many people zoomed by with convertible roofs down or windows cracked wide open, music blaring. I heard Adele belting out “Rolling in the Deep” enroute to the store, and that was an earworm for me until I was nearly home, then I heard the harmonious strains of the LPHS marching band, in perfect tempo, and so I stopped in my tracks, did an about-face, then marched over to Memorial Park to watch the in-progress Memorial Day parade. The crowd’s enthusiasm was contagious as the drum cadence intensified, almost-deafening at times, and the beginning of the parade drew closer. Young children, perched on parents’ shoulders, were giddy with excitement from the noise and they waved American flags or clutched yellow bows in tiny fists. Many parade goers were dressed in patriotic colors. An impressive group of over one hundred flags, all on eight-foot poles, and called “The Healing Field”, honored fallen servicemen and encircled the patio “quiet area” where the park benches offer a place to reflect and remember near the war memorial, cannon and bronze soldier’s boots and rifle. It is good to have a Memorial parade in our City again – far too many years Lincoln Park had no funds to sponsor this event. Throughout high school, I participated yearly in the parade by walking with other members of the American Field Service. I remember toting a flag holster which helped balance my huge and heavy flag. Somewhere, in my vast collection of old photos, someone snapped my picture hoisting my flag. The Memorial Parade always has featured a performance by the LPHS band and many band members had been high school buddies. I can still see Drum Major Pete Tirpak, clad in his huge bearskin hat and rigid chin strap, waving his baton wildly. After the parade, we’d all gather at the Bandshell and “Taps” was played and the frivolity turned to solemnity as heads were bowed in prayer for those lives lost. The Memorial Day Parade was the unofficial start of ensuring the front yard was in tip-top shape until November – picture perfect and nothing out of place because our street was where traffic was diverted from Fort Street. As I walked home, I calculated that it was forty years since I attended the parade; probably the last time I marched in it for AFS. Tempus Fugit.