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December 2005
The wail of police car and fire truck sirens filled the
street at about 5:30 last night. From the sound of it,
there was either a holocaust in progress or there was
going to be a parade. The air was too cold to support
the holocaust theory, so it was time to find a place to
stand on the edge of a sidewalk.
No one knows how these things get organized in San Felipe.
There must be a dark, sound-proof room somewhere that
sequesters the town fathers while they plan parades. And
no one is allowed to leak the information on pain of death.
This year the secret date of the Christmas Parade was
well-kept. Being a spectator was certainly a serendipitous
stroke of fate. You'd have to be standing on the side
of the right sidewalk facing the right way when the parade
rolled by. Or, like the crowds of Mexicans that cheered
this year's desfile, you'd want to know what
all the sirens were about.
San Felipe loves a parade more than anything, except
perhaps a visit from the pope. If the people here could
put their homes on wheels, they'd be pleased to roll them
past your window every afternoon, with music booming from
the chimneys.
A bangled police car with an attention-grabbing siren
was the vanguard of this year's Christmas parade. The
big trucks followed close behind, lit up like vaquero
belt buckles. Then came the lesser but no less impressive
stars of the procession. Pickup trucks, trailers, sand
rails and conveyances of unknown pedigree, all beaming
their electric smiles, rolling past peoples that cheered
and scrambled for candies thrown from the passing floats.
It was another good parade.
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