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Fourth of July parade went by too quickly
Don’t look for an analytical column today on the growing tension between the top two Democratic candidates for the U.S. Senate and its ramifications on the political party and next year’s election.
A think-piece on the state budget crisis will have to wait. The Legislature keeps delaying a vote to adopt the biennium budget so why can’t I delay a column pointing out the poor planning, the lack of accurate data and short-sighted thinking of those in state government?
I have to answer my public or at least the few people who have asked me a very important question.
“What did you think of the parade?”
The parade in question is the Fourth of July parade in Austintown.
Since we moved here in 1995, my family hasn’t missed the annual event. It’s as big a part of summer as bugs flying around food when we eat outside and accidentally mowing plants and flowers that look like weeds to me.
The parade has changed over the years. It used to be full-contact with Super Soakers and other semi-automatic water assault weapons drenching those participating in and watching the parade. Water was outlawed a few years ago.
It also used to be a lot longer. Ten years ago it lasted more than two hours. The past few years, the parade is over in less than an hour.
It’s not only a smaller number of participants than years ago, the parade moves quicker.
State Sen. Joe Schiavoni of Canfield, D-33rd, walked in his first Austintown parade last weekend.
“It was almost like a sprint,” he said in an interview I conducted with him to specifically get his thoughts on the parade. [Yes, I can make my job very strange with little effort.]
Schiavoni wanted to talk to people lining Raccoon Road to watch the parade and get candy. But the parade was going so fast, Schiavoni had to settle for waiving.
For a parade rookie, Schiavoni made a veteran decision.
I’ve seen politicians including Gov. Ted Strickland and U.S. Rep. Tim Ryan wear long sleeves and dark suits the first time they walked the parade. The clothes and the heat results in the sweaty political handshake.
Schiavoni wore a Polo shirt and khakis.
“I would die in a suit,” he said.
There were very few politicians in this year’s parade. The only Mahoning County officeholder participating was Auditor Michael Sciortino, who lives in Austintown. Schiavoni and state Rep. Ronald Gerberry of Austintown, D-59th, were there as were township trustees, school board members and a couple of potential school board candidates.
Supporters of Secretary of State Jennifer Brunner, who’s running in next year’s Democratic primary for U.S. Senate, walked the parade route.
People may wonder why I love this parade.
I never went to a parade as a kid. I was 20 when I went to my first and was amazed that people walking by would give me candy. I was told never to take candy from strangers, but I throw caution to the wind. I even take candy thrown by strangers.
Unfortunately there is some bad street candy out there — blue mints, butterscotch and cinnamon are among the worst. Besides not tasting good, you can get hurt.
I typically get hit in the head with candy each year. It’s unavoidable most of the time. If someone is throwing 30 mini-Tootsie Rolls in your direction, chances are one or two or 10 are going to hit you.
But this year was different.
My wife got hit in the head by a piece of candy. I think it was thrown by a township trustee trying to hit a police officer standing next to us. The weapon in question landed at my feet. It was the king of all candy: a sour apple Now and Later.
I had a choice to make: console my wife or grab the candy before some little kid took it? Of course I took the candy, opened it up and ate it. As my tongue turned green, I asked my wife, “Are you OK?”
How can you not love a parade?