My most recent musical exploit took me to the Bunker Hill Day Parade. Our band’s assignment was to park in front of the Charlestown Working Theater and entertain paradegoers and paraders during lulls in the action.
Of course, this was the week when every corner of Boston proper was besotted by Scots, but I was still proud to see them north of the river – yes, go to my bars, sit in my parks, drink my beer! I certainly can’t drink it all at my big age. One family of Scots seemed to have made its way all the way up, across and back down Bunker Hill to where we were playing, a few minutes’ walk from Sullivan Square.
Because I was obligated to be there, I saw the entire parade. (I’m usually in it, so had never watched.) I think a lot of times we see parades, know them for what they are and what they represent (or don’t) and let it roll over us.
What amused me was imagining myself as a member of that Scottish family. What if they’d never been to America before? What if they’d arrived that day and this was their first impression? Through that lens, I couldn’t stop laughing.
First of all, every Revolutionary War reenactor in New England was there. There were probably enough people with muskets to protect Bunker Hill from an invasion, should it have come to that. This being the 250th year since our nation’s founding (and one of our first with a king, how exciting!), and Bunker Hill Day being a history nerd’s Fourth of July, this is, I assume, the reenactor Super Bowl. But seriously, they probably thought war reenactments are what most Americans do for fun on the weekends, more popular than baseball. Women wear petticoats and carry baskets; men wear tights and shoot muskets in the air – very patriotic. Several kinds of rare cops and armies contributed to this militaristic tradition: The Bunker Hill Community College Police, the Army National Guard, the Coast Guard, even the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers were there.
There were also, interspersed throughout, small crowds dedicated to Charlestown’s political microcelebrities, smiling faces on the side of trucks whom you remember only when they’re in your field of view. More interesting was a group of “K-Pop Demon Hunters” cosplayers marching with a group of Republicans, and behind them, Bluey, the cartoon dog.
Even more exciting celebrities included Michael Jackson (who asked us if the parade ended where we were standing, and whom we told that there was a mile to go). SpongeBob made sure to say hello. Mario seemed a little worse for wear, probably due to the journey from Italy. Peppa Pig was there but didn’t greet me.
Are we just war and cartoons? Is that all that George Bush left us with? I hope the Scottish people visiting our little slice of purgatory know that Boston, and the United States of America, is more. We are a nation of house cleaners, architects, plumbers, racists, politicians, freaks, punks, Mormons, car salespeople and about five journalists, all trying to make a living. Beyond that, I hope they can see that we are trying our best!
Nicholas Marchuk is a local author and engineer. His work is available at major retailers and on his website, nicholasmarchuk.com. Comments and questions can be directed to his contact form and may be responded to in this publication.
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