The last parade

Everyone loves a parade. Or, rather, we used to. The days of emerging from our homes, lining along County streets, shivering in the cold and sipping frantically on piping hot chocolate seems to have come to an end. A relic of a bygone era. A casualty of a fixation with safety. Of managing risk. These are tricky concepts for a six-year-old to get her head around. Perhaps a few years go by. They will stop asking. We will, I expect, get over it. But we will be less of a community for it.

Fall was the season of parades in the County. Things got rolling in October with the Pumpkinfest parade—the promenade of the giant orange and beige gourds. A sunny autumn Saturday would bring thousands of folks out to Main Street in Wellington. They would play games in the park and on the school ground, and gobble vast quantities of apple dumplings handmade by the Hillier Women’s Institute. There was music and merrymaking. Followed by the drama of determining who had grown the heaviest pumpkin in the land.

The festivities began with a parade—a motley mix of clowns, Shriners on minibikes, local politicians, pipe bands, horses and plenty of community groups creating awareness and goodwill in the way they had always done. It was charming. We saw faces we might not see again until spring.

In November, Consecon would kick off the Christmas season with its hugely popular parade. It reminded folks who hadn’t veered into the hamlet in a while what a beautiful place it is—the meandering river bisecting the community, the classic mill in the heart of the village, the slightly faded architecture that signalled a more prosperous and vibrant era.

The Bloomfield Nighttime parade was always the highlight of the season for my kids. The last Friday of November seemed to bring on the penetrating cold. The sheer drama of the colourfully lit floats and the closeness of the crowds made it all worthwhile. The occasional appearance by the wildly under-clothed Queen’s Marching Band, flipping, twirling and tossing their brethren into the night sky, added a touch of dramatic flair to the unfolding spectacle. And for the youngest, the sky rained candy. As well as some carrots from Langridge’s farm.

Picton’s parade typically followed on Sunday. It was an afternoon parade that necessarily resembled Bloomfield’s event two days earlier—but in the stark light of day.

Wellington’s parade came early in December. Though similar in outline to the Consecon, Bloomfield and Picton processions, in recent years, the Wellington Christmas procession took on a decidedly Seussian feel— with many participants colourfully festooned in Who-ville outfits.

County OPP officers in marked vehicles led and brought up the rear of each parade. Bernie Gaw, Kim Guthrie, among a handful in the local detachment who immersed themselves in this community, smiling and waving to the appreciative crowd.

That all seems done now. Covid sidelined parades everywhere. They were in trouble in the County long before the virus hit. The municipality had long harboured frustration about such events—specifically the liability exposure parades pose to the corporation. When a young person fell off a float a few years ago, it was the catalyst the County needed to impose new constraints. New regulations.

Volunteer firefighters were no longer permitted to assist in road closures and redirect traffic to facilitate these parades. It now fell to the OPP to provide this service. For which they needed to be compensated.

For the recent Pumpkinfest parade, the OPP said it would cost organizers close to $1,000 to host a parade. This covered vehicle use, salaries and wages and admin costs. It was money this volunteer group didn’t have. The parade was cancelled. So were most of the activities—aside from the actual pumpkin weighing.

There are no Christmas parades planned in the County. It is hard to imagine another one getting off the ground.

Meanwhile, the property taxpayers of Prince Edward County will spend about $5 million this year for policing services. One can imagine an enlightened OPP considering tossing in a parade or three each year to demonstrate that it truly cares about this community.

It is not all on the OPP, however. The County—as represented by each of you—must declare its intentions: Will it support this form of local expression? Will it enable Consecon to welcome us back to Mill Street? Or would it rather we all just stayed home?

It will be harder to rally volunteers to champion community events after Covid. Many of the folks who made chicken and biscuits, flipped pancakes or baked dumplings for the museum, library, church or WI, have put down their utensils for good.

Will another generation step up to replace them— or has social media supplanted our need for personal connection? Has a fear of risk made community celebration an artifact of the past?

rick@wellingtontimes.ca