Liberty Fest

LIBERTY FEST
by Jacque Graham

Family traditions are wonderful. Most of our family gathers every year at the same location to celebrate the Fourth of July. We have not missed the parade since it originated as a Bicentennial celebration in 1976.

I get up very early to head for our usual spot on Ayres Boulevard. The sun is just coming up, but I think it is worth going early to claim our usual spot under the large shade trees. Already there are a few scattered groupings of lawn chairs on the sidewalks lining the parade route. By 6:45 A.M. I have opened up our family's folding chairs and spread blankets over the curbs for my grandchildren's front row spot. We sit in front of the same two homes each year. We chose this spot because of the large trees and the added coolness they give us to watch the parade in the hottest month of the year. Now I will have at least an hour and a half to read, eat my muffin and drink the cup of coffee that I bought at the convenience store when I stopped to get ice to pour over the canned pop in the cooler chest.

The people who own the yards where we set up each year have told us they appreciate us. One of them works on the Fourth of July each year and said that he is grateful that we watch his property and clean up our trash when we leave. The other, a bachelor of many years, sits on his porch with his aging dog and looks over our heads at the passing parade. He expresses joy at watching our children as they mature from babes in strollers to toddlers, from youngsters to teens.

Tom, "the tent man", sets up a large canopy or two in the next treeless yard each year. He provides his own shade for his family and friends. For the past several years we have exchanged pleasantries as I helped him raise the roof of his shelters. He always leaves the spot in my watchful care as he leaves to buy Krispy Kreme Donuts which he shares with me for my help. This year as we talk, I discover that his wife grew up in my home town, 100 miles north of here, and that his father-in-law ran the local hardware store I remember from my childhood. It truly is a small world.

My son, David, and his toddler Spencer and baby Grayson will arrive later with their mother, Dee. She will bring Grammy K. with her this year. In between the chairs that guard our "family review stand", we have left space for Grammy's wheelchair and for the baby's stroller. Son-in-law Mike has to work the holiday this year and cannot join us, but my daughter Lyn and her precious daughter, Mariah, will share our festivites.

The birds in the trees are calling out their morning greetings as parade participants pass my chair on the way to their assigned parade-formation spots on the campus of one of the local universities. The parade is billed as the largest in the state and lining up the one hundred plus units starts in the early morning hours.

About 8:30 as family members arrive, we greet those we call our "parade friends" - those who line the streets on either side of us- people we have become acquainted with over the past several years. They come early to claim "their territory" for this annual event also. The premature baby who was facing open heart surgery to correct a hole in his heart three years ago arrives, a healthy young child. We rejoice with his parents and his grandparents that prayers we shared at his earlier crisis were so obviously answered. It is wonderful to see that this once-so-ill baby is now jumping around excitedly shooting his "bubble making gun". We all delight in his antics as he tries to catch the bubbles in his hands, squealing loudly when he succeeds and they pop.

The massive display of red, white, and blue seen in the colors of the clothing worn by the parade crowd as we gather, adds to the visual picture of national unity felt by this crowd. Many come for the week-long schedule of activities that preceed this day of celebration. There are concerts, dances, dramatic productions, and many family gatherings planned around this date. Oklahoma has become not only the buckle on the Bible Belt, but is also recognized for our visible unity following the bombing of the Murrah Building in Oklahoma City and the strengthening of our patriotic resolve after the 9/11 attack in New York City. On this date, we celebrate our unity.

In the distance the police sirens sound signaling the start of the parade. Everyone leans forward in their lawn chairs looking down the street, anticipating the next two hours of entertaining spectacles. The leading police car passes with lights and sirens calling our attention to the approaching parade. The Liberty Fest Banner is carried by two local teens chosen this year for the honor. Next is the collection of giant red, white, and blue balloons, each one bouncing above the heads of it's handlers and threatening to lift them off the pavement if the breeze were just right.

Re-enactors from all over our region dress as Confederate and Union soldiers and come to carry their historic flags. On-duty military personnel from Tinker Air Force Base and veterans from past conflicts raise their banners and our country's flag on high as they march by. The patriots along the curbs stand and place their hand over their hearts creating a "wave" effect in the crowds across the street.

Then come the politicians, passing out flag-decorated paper fans and novelties like emory boards or labeled pens to the captive audience of potential voters who line the curbs. The Highway Patrol, police cars, and the bicycle patrolmen are followed by the county sheriff's mounted horse patrol and the local hook and ladder truck from the city's fire department. An antique fire truck rolls by on it's wooden spoked wheels behind the new vehicles of these public servants.

Gymnastic schools and glittered baton twirlers strut and tumble by our appreciative applause. I notice how much more skilled the young tumblers have become since last year's parade.

The "largest flag ever made" stretches from curb to curb of the four-lane street and waves back over the heads of a hundred or more scouts and their dedicated leaders for at least a half-block. The boys underneath use their head and hands to keep this massive American flag from touching the street below their feet. The flag undulates as one and then another puts up his hand to support the colors that so well express this country's love of liberty and freedom. I mentally note that these young men will be the future supporters of that liberty as they one-by-one step into leadership roles in our communities or enlist in one of the military services to protect our homes.

A high school band goes by, horns blaring a favorite Sousa tune. Then come the saddle clubs representing multiple rural communities that surround our suburb of 60,000 citizens. The "Queens of Everything" in their formal
tiara-ed attire wave mechanically from the open top convertibles.

The Old Settlers are next in vehicles ranging in description from open phaetons drawn by prancing show ponies to Model A and Model T antiques lovingly refurbished for celebrations such as this. The beloved 50's Chevrolet Bel Airs (one
convertable even sports a fairly believable Elvis impersonator), and the "Caddy" Club, stand out among the Mustangs and T-birds driven by their proud owners.

"The clowns are coming!" someone proclaims, and children who had grown weary of some of the other parade entries again jump up and down and scramble for candies thrown liberally their way by the passing clowns.

Charitable and civic organizations hawk small flags and red, white, and blue windmills on sticks to the crowd to support this cause or that. Cub Scouts pull wagonloads of iced drinks down the street, raising money for summer camps or troop projects.

Citizens up and down the street demonstrate their respect by standing as more flags pass by. Some remember when they, or a beloved father, grandfather, son or daughter went marching off to war to protect those flags and the country they so proudly symbolize. Some will remember when that loved one gave the ultimate sacrifice for us, and swallowing the large lump in their throat, are grieving and proud at the same time.

I whisper a prayer for those who on this very day are serving our nation on foreign soil. One of these, my younger brother, a chaplain in the U.S. Army who recently was re-assigned from Iraq to South Korea. For a moment, I visualize him, as an eight-year-old, with my older brother- a ten-year-old, playing in our backyard sandbox with their toy soldiers - playing out their future goals. Both followed in our father's footsteps in their army careers.

Churches and businesses enter decorative floats. Chicken wire stuffed with colored tissue paper, plywood painted slogans, are topped by country bands, youth groups, choirs, or children playing in water filled wading pools who shoot water guns to cool the crowd along the parade route. There are some with riders dangling feet over the edges of a flatbed trailer pulled by a late
model pickup truck with extended cab and decorated hubcaps.

Floats decorated to proclaim the annual theme for the holiday parade past cheering spectators. Friendly reparte' is heard along the route as parade participants call out to neighbors, co-workers, friends and family they recognize and who have come to cheer for them.

The Shriner's calliope music is heard above the roar of their four-wheeled dune buggy precision riders who drive in elongated ovals as they move past the crowd. Making "figure eights" down the middle of the street, the Shriner's on cycles "pop a wheelie" as they chase down the route and circle back and forth, crisscrossing in the street's center with well-rehearsed near-misses that thrill the onlookers.

A half-block long collection of decorated bicycles wheel by, ridden by the children from the YMCA after-school programs. Some of the riders are accompanied by stroller pushing moms who "walk the parade" to rescue some of the younger riders if the parade proves too long for their stamina.

A Lawn Mower brigade passes; a group of yuppie homeowners who first entered the parade several years ago as a joke and continued after being hailed as one of the most enjoyed entries. Because of their surprising celebrity status, their number has increased each year as more young men joined the creative collection of week-end gardners.

Several bands from the other high schools march by in their "uniform", school emblem t-shirts, jeans and white tennis shoes. One of the bands is composed of alumni musicians who have returned to march once again in the Liberty Fest Parade.

Trolley buses from several nearby tourist areas carry senior citizens waving flags out of the windows. Luxury convertables carry women in purple dresses who wear large red hats that proclaim their membership in a popular ladies club.

"Uncle Sam" rides by on one of those antique bicycles that have an enormous front wheel with a tiny back wheel on it. There are clowns on unicycles and miniature scooters or driving tiny cars.

There are bicycles built for two as well as bicycles built for...more and pedaled by whole families. Some even have the covered bike
trailers for the toddler to ride with them.

More horses prance by. The Arabians and the Quarter horses, the Minitures and the Apaloosa Stallions. The massive Percherons pull the large wagon advertising a well-known beverage. The Bar-B-Q Palace proclaims their wares on a built-to-scale covered wagon pulled by a team of Shetland ponies.

Next, and appropriately so, is the local company advertising their "Pooper Scooper" services for homes and businesses by exhibiting their expertise where the horses left an "offering" for them in the street.

The International Club from the local college passes with each member wearing a Club shirt announcing their country of origin and with
the flag of their country waving proudly from the staffs they carry. It is a multi-colored tribute to the way our world should be - marching in step and headed in the same direction - celebrating freedom for ALL citizens of the earth.

People come from all over the state to participate in this week long celebration. It is a time of reunion for local families and for graduates of the schools and colleges in our town.

Sirens again are heard as more police cars and a fire truck pass to announce the end of the parade. Familiar faces greet us as we pack up our chairs and head to the local park for a picnic, all-you-can-eat free watermelon, three-legged races, greased pole competitions and multiple other games for children of all ages.

Mid afternoon sends us home for the children to play on the water slides in the back yard while the adults trade stories and family news. In the evening, when we have rested a bit, we return to the college football arena for the fireworks display. We go early and spread our blanket on the sloped grassy hill behind the goalposts. The college band plays for the early arrivals.

In the dusk of the evening, a plane circles overhead as the MC announces the approach of the jumpers from the local Parachute club. We watch and, as one, the crowd holds its breath, then utters a collective "Oh-h-h-h" as we see four parachutists exit the plane. They form a circle in the sky with hands clasped for a free-fall before separating and one at a time drifting to the football field in front of a cheering crowd.

As the sun goes down and darkness falls, the first of many starburst fireworks explodes
in the sky. There is a half-hour of beautiful exploding colors and lights on the field and above our heads. The displays are met with unified cheers, applause, and gasps of elation from the crowd of celebrants. The grand finale is a large sustained display of many starbursts in the night sky. It obliterates the stars and a hush falls on the crowd for a moment before the final applause and cheer. As the smoke from the final bursts drifts down, the crowd leaves. Our faces reflect the happy weariness on our faces. We have spent our energy and are happy to go to our homes, rejoicing in the freedoms that have been gifted to us who live in America's south-central plains.

It is a day for families. It is a day to join others in recognition of the community where we are privileged to live. It is a day to celebrate
our nation, to celebrate our national birthday together. It is a day to recognize the unity of humanity that we sometimes miss in our hurried times. I am glad that my family recognizes and gathers to celebrate this very important holiday!