From Deseret News archives:
July 24 is an exciting day for all Utahns
As a kid, the anticipation of the 24th was painfully exciting. We looked forward to the parade and a picnic at Liberty Park afterwards. All I could think about while getting ready that morning was going to see the police motorcycles and the horses.
My mother packed a picnic of bean and egg gorditas and carried it in a metal kettle. There was no bottled water or Playmate cooler to pack, but vendors sold cold pop or ice cream, fudgesicles, orange creamsicles and popsicles from pushcarts. I'm sure my parents saved their pennies so they could splurge on this special day.
It was such a big deal that we'd walk from our home on the west side a half mile away. And we'd start early; we walked because that was our mode of transportation. No one owned cars in our neighborhood. And each year, we tried to get our favorite spot on Third and Main Streets.
Waiting for the parade was one of the most exciting times as a kid. We didn't mind the hot sun burning into the asphalt and tar on Main Street or its strong smell — it was all part of it. That didn't deter us from jumping off the curb on to the street to see when the first paraders would start coming by. One of the most thrilling and scary parts was looking down the street and seeing cops on motorcycles slowly pushing the crowds back onto the sidewalk.
I don't recall any Clydesdale horses, but I sure do remember the horses that came by with ladies dressed in fancy outfits and men in chaps.
If you were a kid, you could hardly wait for the police motorcycle squad to zoom by. They would lead the parade with their traditional and fascinating maneuvers much to the delight of all the kids. I remember wishing one day that I might be a cop so I could ride one of those bikes.
One of the big deals was to have my father buy me a straw cowboy hat, a cap gun with holster, belt and all the trimmings. The holster looked like leather, but it was probably just some kind of canvas and made in the U.S.A. I don't remember having sparklers, but I do remember having rows of caps that I thought were the most dangerous thing that I could ever have.
I remember the floats — one looked like a railroad train engine — and I remember the firetrucks. But the horses and the clowns are what I remember most. I was especially fascinated by the clowns who walked on stilts and the ones who raced around in circles on unicycles.
After the parade, we walked to Liberty Park and had our picnic.
I used to take my own children to the parade. Then they got too big. Then I took my grandkids, and they got too big. So now I watch it on TV but still imagine the smell of asphalt, popcorn and the aftermath of horses.
Those of us born and raised here take great pride in this celebration. Mormon or not, somehow you feel a part of that excitement and rich heritage symbolized by the parade.
Utah native John Florez has founded several Hispanic civil rights organizations, served on the staff of Sen. Orrin Hatch and on more than 45 state, local and volunteer boards. He also has been deputy assistant secretary of labor. E-mail: jdflorez@comcast.net
