Its a couple of hours before the first parade rolls by my corner but people are camped out already. I'm watching generations of tradition being played out, as families lug ice chests, ladders, chairs, and more from their cars to the parade route. Toddlers scamper around their grand parents and they all pitch in for this great annual celebration. Later this evening I'll go out and join them and we'll all yell, "Throw me something, Mister!". I'll be there with them yelling for beads and other trinkets and groveling in the gutter to grab a really good throw before anyone else gets to it. Then I'll come home, tired and cold and happy. And like thousands of others before me over the many decades past, I'll do it again tomorrow and next year and the year after that for as long as I can.
It isn't a tourist event. Its not put on for others. We do it for ourselves just as we always have.
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