The Fourth of July Parade

Without question, if you took each family member of mine and asked them separately what was the “highlight holiday” during our growing up years, each one would say the Fourth of July! All holidays were celebrated in our house and each one carried its own special traditions. However, the Fourth of July was just something extra special.

Every year my Aunt Jeanne and Uncle Reggie would come up to Pierre, South Dakota for their summer vacation. Usually, they would plan it around the Fourth of July. Brittney and I would be itching with anticipation for their arrival because they had two boys, Gary and Brian. All of us kids stair-stepped, so we were all right around the same age. We would have such fun playing out at the barn, riding horses, or going with the family to tour the Capitol building or the Oahe Dam. Sometimes we would even make the 2 ½ hour trips to Mount Rushmore.

Nothing, however, could top the Fourth of July Celebration. The preparations would start well before daybreak. Dad spent his time loading up enough horses for everyone to ride, while Mom would be busy in the kitchen frying chicken, making potato salad and icebox lemon pies. I can still see the old green cooler sitting there, full of ice, awaiting delivery of all the homemade goods (my folks still have that old cooler and use it to this day- if only it could talk).

Once the adults managed to get all the supplies, horses, and kids (in that order) loaded, we headed out to the annual Fourth of July Parade! Our town parade was a sight to behold. It had all the floats, old cars, firetrucks, tractors, and lots of horse and buggy teams. Many years my dad would take our team of horses and let people fill the wagon. I can still hear my dad say, “Walk up Ed.” Mr. Ed would let his buddy do all the pulling if he could get away with it. What made our parade extra special was the horse and rider section it offered. Each rider carried a flag of one of our fifty states. If you’re concerned about our country in any way, I encourage a trip out to South Dakota. They still bleed Red, White and Blue out there.

It was always so fun to ride horses in the parade with our friends and watch all the people line the streets. I could always spot my mom and Aunt Jeanne sitting on the back of Mr. Harvey’s truck, waving to beat the bands!

When the parade was over, we all rode our horses into the fairgrounds. It wasn’t a far ride from where the parade ended, and it was our job to stake claim to the big cottonwood tree while we waited on Dad to get there with the truck and trailer. Then Mom would set up the picnic! It would be a day filled with picnicking and rodeos!

There were always two rodeos, an afternoon and evening one. Us kids would spend the day riding around the fairgrounds catching only glimpses of the afternoon rodeo while the adults caught the details. Then, all would quiet down for a few hours and you could see people spread out on blankets napping or tending to their horses awaiting the big event.

The evening rodeo was always a packed grandstand. Dad would back our wagon up to the fence so we would all have a front-row seat to the rodeo. There were so many exciting events to look forward to! There was barrel racing, calf roping, goat tying, saddle bronc and bull riding! Truth be told, everyone was there for the bull riding. It was the most anticipated event of the rodeo, for good reason. Watching these bull riders attempt an eight-second ride felt like an eternity, it always left the crowd’s heart racing! The wild horse race was my personal favorite. Watching seasoned cowboys try to stay on a wild horse was hilarious!

Course, the cherry on top, for me, was having my dad, better known around cowboy circles as, “Preacher Jim,” called up to the announcer’s stand to say the “Cowboy’s Prayer.” There is no better picture I can paint of South Dakota than the song Trace Adkins sings. The lyric says, “Old men still take off their hats and they hold ‘em over their hearts…And it’s always gonna be that way.”

We usually had the horses loaded and the days picnic supplies all cleaned up before the bull riding started because we knew the firework show would follow directly afterwards. We would all climb on top of the horse trailer and await the firework show that would light up the night sky. I am convinced, God hung all the stars over the great plains; everywhere else just gets flickers of leftovers.

With the last kabooms of fireworks still echoing in the background, Mom and Dad would load sleepy girls into the truck and head for home.

It has been twenty years since those memorable Fourth of July days, but without fail, on the “Fourth” my sister and I, along with my folks will call one another and make comments like, “Mom, you got the fried chicken ready?” “Dad, are the horses loaded for the big day?” “I bet Mr. Harvey is sitting in his usual spot downtown ready to watch us ride by.”

There is something magical in traditions that never change. I am reminded of a quote by John Quincy Adams. He told a reporter, “Duty is ours. Results are Gods.” Although he was talking patriotically about the citizens of this blessed land, I often think of this when raising Eva. Magical traditions must be so imprinted upon her heart that she can’t help but repeat them. The duty is mine; the result is God’s.

GOD BLESS AMERICA

“Live as people who are free, not using your freedom as a cover-up for evil, but living as servants of God.” 1 Peter 2:16

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