A tale of two parades

This morning we rode our bikes up to watch the UM homecoming parade. It was the second one I’ve witnessed in my lifetime. The first was in 1968 when I accompanied my then-girlfriend and her mom – a UM alumna – on the drive from Eureka down to Missoula for just that occasion.  

I don’t know about parades. I know you’re supposed to applaud and whoop at certain intervals. I know that, past a certain age, one should not actively collect the candy tossed from floats. I know that one should be discreet about ogling the pretty cheerleaders. I know that the first 30 minutes of any parade is really all one needs to see. Especially if it’s raining. 

My girlfriend at that first parade became my wife a couple of years later. She became my former wife 24 years after that – one of the reasons I left Missoula. I thought of that today, standing in the drizzling rain, watching the makeshift floats and marching bands drift by. It all seemed a little forced, a little lackluster, but that says more about a much older me than the much older parade. A lot of water under the Higgins Avenue bridge between 1968 to 2023. 

I’ve now been remarried for, let’s see: 24 years this month! I’ve been fortunate. And here we are at another homecoming, most of a life gone by.  I’ll call it a bookend. I don’t know about the parade, but the homecoming part rings true.