Columbus Day

In San Francisco this was a weekend to celebrate all things Italian...including Columbus!

The San Mateo High School Marching Band was among the Sunday afternoon Italian Heritage Day Parade line-up.

I love a parade. I remember being very young and going to the 4th of July parade with my grandparents. My grandfather would be neatly dressed wearing his cowboy hat and smelling faintly of cologne. His eyes would be twinkling, and he smiled all the way to town in anticipation. He loved a parade too. His couldn't wait to share it with us grandkids--his love was infectious as we lined up next to him. His favorite was the music of the marching band. Well, and maybe a piece of butterscotch candy.

Band music drew my grandfather to every parade for miles around (much to my delight). In the winter, I would sometimes visit in the evening. Grandpa would be reading and listening to his favorite records of band music.

I cannot attend a parade or listen to the band without remembering his passion for a good march. Over the past few years, I have been listening to a few band concerts as my children learn to play. However, Sunday was different. It was Nikela's first parade.

Kiahra participated in the morning church service, so we made a plan to drive to the nearest subway station and ride into the city. We managed to find the right train :) and arrived in San Francisco on schedule. Then we had to hike several city blocks...and when I say hike, I mean hike the hills of San Francisco. Nonetheless, we made it just as the first band was passing. Luckily, it wasn't Nikela.

On a corner in Little Italy in the shade, our family awaited. Across the street, Italian folks were enjoying outdoor dining in the sun with a bit o' vino. The entertainment never ceased.



Chayse was proudly waving her flag. She charmed a few folks as they passed.



The flamboyant floats glistened in the sun, but the quirky details entertained the kids.

Finally, the girl we had been waiting to see.



In uniform and on task!



As the parade marched on, I wondered if my smile was a bit like my grandfather's...neverending...



Then as we detected the roar of the Blue Angels over head, I felt my grandfather's patriotic pride surge through my blood. The glimpses of the Navy pilots' skill were utterly amazing. Though I will never forget watching the jet dive at San Franscico Bay and skim the surface as it swooped upward again...the blue smoke lingering as evidence that I had really seen it.

In your memory Grandpa, today I stood in San Francisco and watched your great-granddaughter march. I applauded the military men and women who marched for you...for me...for my country...for our dreams...for our memories.