Sunday morning in New York, a parade is about to happen. It seems in a city this large. That a parade could be usual daily fare.
I once lived for parades, their showy organization. The pagentry, the color traveled from town to town, only to be three or four times on the 4th of July. Parades are people celebrating and working together. Parades are a show of something that people can be when they want to make a good thing happen.
Oh how I love a parade . . . I need to remember that on a Sunday morning when I need to get to get to the airport.