Musings of an Aging Nobody

In my hometown of Oceanport, New Jersey, there is a parade held on Memorial Day each year.  Over the years  I marched in that parade as a Cub Scout, as part of the Maple Place School band, as a Boy Scout, and as an Oceanport Hook & Ladder volunteer fireman.

In my younger years, my neighbor Warren Del Vecchio always played Taps on his trumpet from the hill overlooking the town memorial located on a small island of grass with a monument and a flagpole at the confluence of three streets in the area of town known as Wolf Hill. His trumpet would sound from the hill behind us immediately after the honor guard from Fort Monmouth finished shooting their rifles in the air in salute.  It always brought on chills.  To me as a young person, Warren’s playing of Taps earned him celebrity status and I always felt like I was important because I knew him personally, kind of like “yeah, I know that guy, he is my neighbor.”

Like most events during the pandemic, last year’s Memorial Day parade in Oceanport, as it was in hometowns all over our country, was canceled.

This year, however, due to vaccines and our beginning to return to some state of normalcy, the parade goes on, though sadly in my opinion, since I have moved away, the route no longer terminates at Wolf Hill, with the monument and the flag pole.

The President told us earlier in the year, if we were all good, we could spend the Fourth of July with our families without distancing and even without wearing masks.

We must have been really good because its only Memorial Day and the masks are coming off all over the place and groups are gathering once again.

I am still not sure how to handle the change in mask usage and it’s obvious when you enter a store where masks are not required and everyone is still wearing one, the rest of the world is too.  After a year of socially hiding, I have grown comfortable with being unsocial and putting on my hat, my sunglasses, and my mask and going to the grocery store hoping no one will recognize me.

And then there are the situations like the time I was at the self-checkout and the loaf of rye bread I just waited fifteen minutes to have sliced didn’t show up under the bakery search as a price option and I finally had to get the attendant to assist me, all the while the blood was receding from lips and face as they took on a nice grayish color and tightened up tautly.  Thankfully, all this was happening under the cover of my mask.  As far as the grocery attendant knew, I was smiling even though at that point I was only able to point and grunt at the rye bread and the touch screen.

And I can’t ignore the fact that I can’t remember the last time I had a cold or have been sick.

 

Then just when you think it’s safe to go out of the house, THEY’RE BACK!

Like an old 1950’s science fiction movie, they come crawling out of holes in the ground every seventeen years.  They fly across the sky clumsily like Flash Gordon’s spaceship from the 1930’s serials. And the rhythmic whirring sounds in the air all around might as well be signaling a flying saucer invading Earth from outer space.

They get in your hair, they cancel out your cell phone audio, they just plain creep you out.  Like some prehistoric creature whose ability to naturally evolve has been robbed, they seem out of place in our new world.

Hey Cicadas…it’s the 21^st century, we have Africanized Honey Bees and` Murder Hornets now. We drive electric F-150’s, and watch shows like Pooch Perfect and The View  on TV’s that have flat screens!  We have evolved!

You guys need to get to the gym.

 

It is nice to see Memorial Day weekend signaling the unofficial beginning of summer and returning to its traditions.

Oceanport will have its parade.

My brother  Carl’s annual Memorial Day party will go on, as he would have wanted.  He will be there in spirit I am sure.

I am able to kiss my mother and father this weekend without guilt, and most importantly, without a mask.

And I will admit it is nice to have at least the option to be social again.

 

And of course, we can’t forget the real reason for the day that gives us the three day weekend and the  excuse to parade, eat hot dogs, drink beer, and go to the beach:

Those brave men and women who gave their lives defending our freedom.

May God bless each and every one of them and may their families feel proud and appreciated for their sacrifice, in grief and in memory.

Thank you.

 

Postscript:

The feature photo is from the Oceanport Memorial Day Parade in May of 1969 when I was in the seventh grade and is courtesy of my friend Kathy MacDonald.  That tall fellow at the end of the saxophone line is me.  That is Kathy’s brother Bob next to me.  Also in that line is Veronica Bradley and David Halpstein (not sure that is correct last name, if you are reading this from Oceanport help me out).