Flags all over the place.
Then they stopped at the corner. Right in front of our house at 202 Washington Ave.
Everyone held their breath.
The drum major lifted his hands and then as if on cue
he waved furiously
and the instruments played with gusto.
My eyes wandered back and forth taking it all in.
As a girl of seven
it all seemed magnificent. Crowds and crowds stood to watch and listen.
They played on and on
The silver shiny flutes, clarinets and trumpets.
Those handsome French horns
Oh I loved it all.
But all too soon the music ended
A whistle was blown and the band continued to march on
But I was never dismayed for long
No, right behind them was another huge band coming down the street.
Soldiers marched in uniform
Flags and more flags.
Memories of the Memorial Day parade also drift back to Owego, NY
where we lived on Front Street.
Right in front if our house they would march
For a few glorious years my brother and I played
In the high school marching band.
He played clarinet and I played the flute.
March two three four
Drum majors directing
Excitement and cheers all along the way.
But a memory carefully cherished
Is watching this elderly man marching down the street
carrying the American flag
Everyone stood and cheered
There wasn’t a dry eye anywhere.
Band after band in strict precision.
Thankfulness forAmerica’s freedom overflowed.
It had come with a price.
It always does.
Memorial Day is more than a picnic
or even a parade.
The heart of the day runs much deeper than that.
Many gave their lives so that we could enjoy the freedoms we have today.
Let’s never forget.
the price that was paid.
As time keeps marching on and on and on.