A Small Town USA July 4th

Laurie Cohn Rosenthal
Mirror contributing writer

   July 4th was a busy day, which had me going to my first parade in more years than I could possibly remember. It started simply enough, but one thing led to another and another, and by the end of the evening I was thoroughly exhausted. Exhausted, however, in a good, the day was great, kind of way.
   Michael and I took an early morning kayak in the marina. It was fairly quiet and calm on the water. Once we hit the ocean, however, the cloudy sky turned rainy, so we headed back in a little sooner than expected. We had brunch at the Rose Café, filled with people out on the patio despite a barely-there drizzle. It was fun seeing folks relaxed in the middle of the week, work a distant memory for many, at least for a day.
   We headed to the Palisades to watch the town’s annual 4th of July parade. Funny how a small town like the Palisades can pull off a parade and fireworks while Santa Monica can’t do either. An early morning Santa Monica 4th of July parade could be done in such a way as not to contribute to the beach traffic that is as guaranteed as family gatherings and barbecues. 
   The parade was supposed to start at 2 p.m., but because some oblivious person parked in a no-parking zone where skydivers who began the parade were going to land, the starting time was actually delayed nearly half an hour. I think the tow truck, arriving to take the white Volvo away, got more applause than anything else that day. Palisadians take their parade seriously and people had put out chairs days before the parade, reserving prime viewing spots. Latecomers like us were relegated to stand and make do with what was available. 
   I felt so American, out with my fellow countrymen watching a parade of local celebrities, politicians, Palisadians, and others from all over the greater Los Angeles area. Of course local celebrities in the Palisades can often mean people who are household names around the globe, such as Grand Marshall Dennis Tito and Honorary Mayor Anthony Hopkins, both residents of the Palisades. While waiting for the parade to begin, the Grand Marshall’s car was in front of us, and we were amused by some of Tito’s employees, who sported t-shirts that read, “My boss went to space and all I got was this lousy t-shirt.” 
   Michael and I began viewing the parade from a shady spot on Sunset, but decided to walk along a side street instead of standing still for the duration. We saw his sister, brother-in-law and nephew on top of a double decker bus, waving to mere mortals like us lining the parade route. A group of residents walking their dogs, or in some cases vice-versa, passed by, as did a battalion sized group of kids on bikes, protected by their parents. I especially liked the little girl with the red and white polka dot dress on a tricycle who got mad at her brother and quickly rode away from him and their mother. 
   There were numerous marching bands and drill teams from all over the city, and though I hate to pick a favorite because all the kids were excellent, the group from Compton was by far the rockingest bunch. I counted three Scottish bagpipe groups, all great. I figure they don’t get all that many gigs, so a parade is the perfect locale for them. Former Dodger Wes Parker participated in the festivities as did several men on horses dressed as buffalo soldiers. We walked to the beginning of the parade route, sat, and waved to everyone who walked by. They all pretty much waved back to us because there were no other people around. 
   When the parade ended, the best of the day was still to come, though it wouldn’t be for several hours. We finished the night at Michael’s dad’s house, viewing fireworks and eating triple chocolate cheesecake. We could see the fireworks in the marina, though they were in the far distance and not nearly as impressive as they are close up. We saw fireworks going off in places we couldn’t quite place. The best ones for us were at the Bel Air Bay Club and Palisades High School. Both venues put on entertaining shows, and all we had to do was sit back and enjoy. 
   After the festivities, we hung out and relaxed. No driving, no being caught in traffic, as we had been earlier in the day after the parade was over. We could see the red lights all along PCH and Sunset. The 4th had come and gone and now it was time to let the French have their Bastille Day (July 14) and enjoy their fireworks. American firework lovers, myself included, would just have to wait another year.