The Baylor Homecoming Parade was last Saturday, and it reminded me of some parades I have seen. One vivid one was when we were living in Canberra, Australia and watched the ANZAC parade, in which Australian and New Zealand military veterans marched, as best they could, in groups representing various wars and conflicts. The Aussies didn’t care if the occasionally tipsy soldier got out of line.
Of course, it was nothing like Chairman Kim and his mighty men and missiles on parade, but it was impressive. The North Koreans march in what seems to be almost goose-stepping monotony—thousands upon thousands of them—past their beloved leader and dictator, who salutes them smartly. It was Hitler all over again.
In Texas, generally, the parades are small and patriotic—lots of American flags, the Shriner’s racing about on their scooters, fire trucks, local High School bands tooting and drumming, convertibles carrying notable and not so notable politicians, jeeps, a few floats and of course Texans riding their horses. The horses are always last in the parade and you can imagine why—who would want to march after the horses deposit their food remains down the street?
But I have a gripe about parades, and it came to light at the Baylor Parade. There were scores of people on floats and on the street as well, who were throwing candy to the children (and some big adults). The children were expecting candy—lots of it—they were holding sacks like it was Halloween only it was not “trick or treat.” It was “fill er up—throw some here.”
The problem I see is that lawsuits and parade candy may become mixed. Some of those kids are going to get awfully fat from eating so much candy and they will decide, as a result, that the Parade is responsible for their being a fat boy or a fat girl. They will blame Baylor for their obesity, and it will go to court and cost the college millions of dollars. They will be fat-shamed, and it will be Baylor’s fault.
There is no good reason to throw candy. Instead, why not have Kentucky Fried throw out wings and Chic-fil-a can toss the kids chicken nuggets; The Chinese restaurants can chuck rice balls and I Hop can spin their pancakes to help the kids have fun with frisbee-cakes, whirling them up and down the street and over and in the floats. Parade helpers, dressed like bears—the Baylor mascot—could give cups of Dr Pepper to the very young, preparing them in life for the Baylor beverage of choice.
Of course, I know that won’t happen. There are too many sororities and fraternities represented in the Parade, all performing deeds of kindness around the campus and city. I tried to keep track of each Greek alphabet letter signified in the Parade and found that Chi, Pi, and Psi were underreported and Zeta, Xsi and Omicron barely got a mention. This is surely something that the Baylor president and the Greek department should be made aware of. There was also an over-abundance of Parade queens, but no Parade kings. I have referred this discrepancy to the Future Baylor Nurses Association, The Baylor Dive Club and the Noble Nose Brotherhood.
Where they will take it remains a secret, but rumors are that the Virtual Reality Club and the Ronald McDonald House have also shown an interest.
I was somewhat shocked—as any good Baptist should be—by how many dance groups were in the Parade: the Golden Wave Band, with 300 members (or was it 3000?), the Baylor Dance Company, swing dancers, country dancers, and even the Phi Gama’s Honky Tonky Boot Stomping group.
I have mentioned the matter to the Dean of Social Services, the Baylor Pre-Vet Medical Association, The Salvation Army and Truett Seminary. In the future expect more waltzes, calypso and flamenco, perhaps even a fire dance, where the performer spins poi, consisting of wire wool in chicken wire cages first dipped in paraffin.
However, I must not close in a negative mode. The enthusiasm of the kids getting candy, the beauty of the convertibles with their shivering queens, the 300 sorority queens (or was it 3000?), and the cowboys and cowgirls with their horses—it made my eyes water and my heart pump wildly.
I awoke suddenly in this condition and realized I was now watching the Baylor football game—it had been a long sleep, dream and parade. I was bleeding green and gold.
In case I may have made up some of this, I’ll check with the Baylor Adult Day Care Center for help and see if they will loan me a service dog.