Autumn Daze
By June Capossela Kempf
Here we are. The season’s cool winds and driving rainstorms have brought down all the leaves that shaded us from the glare of the summer’s sun. Our thoughts now turn to the looming holidays that are coming at us like a cluster of ferocious firestorms. It’s November! Plans have been in the works since last November to celebrate Thanksgiving Day with yet another world famous and magnificent Macy’s Day parade. Spectators from all over the country crowd the sidewalks of New York and marvel at the iconic array of enormous inflatable characters while battling the winds high above their heads. They can hear loud and flashy marching bands from blocks away and if lucky, see dancing Rockettes dazzle the audience at Herald Square – all in anticipation of Santa ushering in the Christmas season. What a show!
But while this was all going on, another event was being quietly planned. Parades and ceremonies, organized with solemn dignity giving homage to our heroes who sacrificed so much so we can have a reason to be thankful. In places all over the country citizens march down their own Lake Avenues in near silence. At the end of the road, they gather to hear a single bugle tapping out ‘Day is Done’. Veterans snap to attention and prayers are offered up by a local clergyman by the village gazebo.
What a scene!
Grandpa got ready early to go to the parade, and although he doesn’t have his old sailor’s garb to wear, he proudly dusted off his baseball hat emblazoned with the words: KOREAN WAR* USNAVY * VETERAN 1950-53. Whenever he wears that hat, people, strangers if you will, stop everything to thank him for his service and engage in conversations like they were old friends hanging out on the front porch.
This year he was unable to participate in the parade itself, so Grandpa stood on the sidewalk, saluting each group of marchers as they passed by. But only a few devoted spectators showed up to stand in line beside the old Naval airman. As bitter memories flooded his mind, of things he could never talk about - even to his family; he connected with his fellow veterans, who didn’t need any explanations about his state of mind -they knew.
On the way home, Grandpa seemed to be a bit agitated.
“How come there was such a small turn-out for the parade?” Then wondered out loud why we never learned anything from all the horrors of wars and atrocities gone by.
“It’s still going on,” he said. He then fell silent for a few moments and stared into space, stuck in the past, perhaps revisiting those distant terrors that came to haunt him from time to time. When he was ready, he put his dark recollections away and came back into focus:
“Hey,” he laughed. “Did they ever get the big witch rebuilt?”
“You mean Winnie?”
“Yeah, “he said, “When I passed by her place the other day, she had a new head, and a construction crew was busy framing out her torso.”
“Ohhh, do you want to drive by?” I asked.
“Yeah, let’s go see how much she has developed by now.”
“Yup! I wouldn’t be surprised if she winds up all blown up and flying her broom high above the Macy’s Day parade next year.”
I really meant that.
June Capossela Kempf: Essayist and Author of : Yo God! Jay’s Story, a memoir and Lady of the Dollhouse, a YA mystery