The parade was over and the air was cool for such a warm December evening. We sat down right in the road on the front line with the scrambling babies catching beads and candy. We chided sullen majorettes, “Happy faces ladies!” We hooted for middle school bass drum players snatching to pull their pants up between beats.
Walking back to the car we heard the rolling snares and rising tenor of horns coming from a dark parking lot a few blocks ahead. Another competing rhythm rose between the downtown buildings and something stirred in me.