On parades and community

In typical Adams style, I'm sure he said it with drama and meant it with all seriousness, but it brings a smile to my face nonetheless. Pomp and parade ... Oh, if he could see us now.

I absolutely love the 4th of July. My hometown of Brainerd bills itself as the 4th of July capital of somewhere ... I can't remember if it is "the world" or just "Minnesota". Either way, I grew up with an annual dose of the full spectacle of American pomp. The only parades I ever remember missing were the two when I was off in the Army, and those were very lonely affairs. The pomp and parade of basic training may be more dignified, but just isn't the same. There's no place like home.

For one day each year, humanity descends on an otherwise inhumane landscape, pedestrians boldly take back the public realm and Brainerd feels like a community again. We brush up against each other walking down the street. We run into old friends and meet new ones. We look disapprovingly on the overly-tattooed kids puffing on cigarettes, who crave our disapproval. We stand in reverence of the flag, veterans of past conflict and current warriors. We laugh at the zany and the bizarre.

These are all the things that I would imagine our ancestors doing too.

When I say that Brainerd has an "inhumane landscape", I mean that it is generally inhospitable to people outside of their cars. Sure we have sidewalks in the downtown, but they are inches from streets designed for fast-moving cars, with "decorative" lighting for cars, signs for cars, shops designed for cars and large parking lots (of course, for cars). I've detailed in this space how the new county government center is a confused blight on what is left of Brainerd's urban fabric. But nonetheless, remove the cars from the street and it suddenly becomes a place that overweight people will walk a mile to be in.