If humanity ever discovers the meaning of life, my guess is that it will have something to do with parades.  It is a universal fact that it’s equally enjoyable to walk in a parade or watch a parade, and what’s not to love?  Floats?  Good.  Bands?  Good.  Waving?  Good.  Happiness?  Good.   No matter how much technology or interests or politics change, parades march on.

“Let’s go to the Potato Bowl Parade,” Kyle announced on Saturday morning.  For the past 60 years, Grand Forks, the University of North Dakota, and Red River potato growers have hosted a weekend dedicated to…potatoes?  Football?  Now that I type it, I’m actually not sure.  Regardless, the mainstays of the Potato Bowl are 1) a giant community french fry feed, 2) a tailgate and football game, and 3) a parade.

“I don’t want to go to a parade,” Eleven said.

“Yes, you do,” I told him.

The three of us – Fifteen was doing football stuff – got dressed and headed downtown.  It was a beautiful morning, and so we decided to park farther away than necessary and walk so we wouldn’t have to sit in traffic.

“The forecasters must have pushed back the rain this weekend,” I said as we pulled into a sunny spot.

Kyle checked his phone.

“Looks like tonight,” he said.  “Or…well, maybe this morning, too.”

We both looked at the sky, which had greyed over in the amount of time for us to have that conversation.

“I don’t think it’s ever rained on the Potato Bowl Parade,” I said.  “So, we’re safe.”

We walked the few blocks to the parade route and molded into the large crowd just as the UND marching band passed by.  Both sides of the streets were packed with people, with the grownups sitting in lawn chairs and standing along the back of the sidewalk near the businesses, and the children on the edge of the street behind cones.  Kyle and I tucked up against a tree trunk and sent Eleven to the curb with the other kids.  Eleven, still grumpy from being forced to have a good time, sat on the curb in defiance.  He was the only one with a sour expression; all of the hundreds of faces around us were smiling.

The candy started flying right after the cheerleaders passed by.  A lollipop landed by Eleven’s foot, and he picked it up and slipped into the grocery-bag-turned-candy-holder of a little boy standing an arm’s distance away.  He did the same with a piece of gum, and then a package of Skittles.  When another lollipop bounced in a gap several feet down from his spot and no one claimed it, Eleven stood up, walked to the lollipop, popped it in his mouth, and walked back to his spot, standing this time.  By the time the Shriners rolled by in a bus singing “Let Me Call You Sweetheart,” Eleven was waving to the floats, picking up candy for the other children (and himself; he pocketed every fifth or sixth piece and got his appreciative mother two packages of Smarties), and helping the policeman with crowd control.  And, of course, smiling.

Somewhere around the middle of the parade, a whisper of cold air mixed with the music of a high school band.  Collectively, the adults in the crowd turned our faces skyward.

“Ope, rain,” a grandma next to me said. 

Nothing really changed for the first few raindrops.  A handful of adults moved back under the awnings of the businesses, and a handful of moms pulled their children’s sweatshirt hoods up over their heads.  Eleven had a few spots of rain on his t-shirt, but Kyle and I were completely dry under the canopy of the tree.  For its part, the parade marched on.

“I think it’s raining harder,” Eleven said after it started raining harder.  We pulled Eleven under the tree while the rest of the adults either raised umbrellas or shimmied into the gaps under the awnings.  The candy that hadn’t been picked up by the children began to melt on to the street forming polka-dotted puddles here and there.  Still, the band marched on.

Then it started pouring.  And by pouring, I mean POURING.

“Can we go to the car?”  Eleven said.  “It’s hailing.”

“It’s not hailing,” I said.  “It’s just very big raindrops.”

“Can we go to the car anyway?”  Eleven said, rain dripping from the leaves into the trees into his eyes.

‘I think we’ll get more wet going to the car,” Kyle said.  “What if we went to mom’s office?”

I work downtown, and my office was less than a half of a block from where we were standing.  We turned and walked heads down along the sidewalk in time to the music of another high school marching band beside us.  The rain pounding the streets was no match for “When the Saints Go Marching In,” and the crowd continued to clap along from whatever dry-ish vantage point they could find.

We were soaked through and through by the time we got to my office.  We shed whatever wet items we could, and joined my other coworkers and their families up on the second floor.  We stuck the kids along the windows and we stood behind them to watch the rest of the parade…because God bless it, that parade marched on.

They didn’t march alone.  While the throng had thinned, there were still plenty of people anywhere there was a cover.  The greatest mass stood beneath the downtown skywalk, and they cheered so loudly enough for every passing float that we could hear them in the building.  One of the last floats, American Crystal Sugar Company, was handing out four-pound bags of sugar, and I couldn’t believe the number of children who appeared out of seemingly nowhere along the route to get a (probably very soggy) bag of sugar for their parents.

Believe it or not, the rain actually held off until the final float had made it to the end of the route, and then it started REALLY REALLY POURING.  Ever the helpful husband, Kyle took one for the team and left us in the dry indoors while he ran to the car.  What should have been a five-minute trip – two minutes to the car, three minutes back – took twenty because he had to keep stopping for refuge from the rain.

“I need a shower,” Eleven said after we got into the car.

“You just had a shower,” I said, pointing to the rain.  “You need a warmer one.”

“Yes,” Eleven said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a piece of candy, which had miraculously stayed dry.  “I had fun.”

“I had fun, too,” I said.  “Maybe even more fun than a regular parade because it was an adventure.”

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I took the photo above right when it started really raining (as you can see, I’m still under the tree). I love how the lady on the float put her candy bucket on her head.

Here are a couple of the social media comments on the parade-related posts:

“It was the best thing ever especially having little ones, they loved and enjoyed the whole parade and us running to the vehicle and laughing. Best feeling in the world.”

“I stayed the whole time!! Parade was fun rain or shine! Just got to dance in the rain.”

And this beaut from the Grand Forks City Band:

“Did it rain on our parade? Technically, yes. Did the band keep on playing? Also yes!

Mother Nature apparently heard ‘Potato Bowl’ and decided the potatoes needed watering.

The Grand Forks City Band arrived in our blue polos, climbed aboard the trailer, and proceeded to get absolutely, thoroughly, impressively soaked. But a little rain or an entire sky’s worth of it wasn’t going to stop us! We kept playing, kept laughing, and had a fantastic time rolling through Downtown Grand Forks.

A HUGE thank you to everyone who came out, everyone who stayed despite the downpour, and everyone who waved, cheered, and joined us in celebrating UND during the Potato Bowl Parade. You were wet, we were wet, the potatoes were thriving, and somehow it was still an incredible time.

Rain may have fallen on our parade, but it certainly didn’t wash away the fun.”

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I wasn’t on North Dakota Today because of the holiday. Last week, we talked about Wendy Nelson, my Nice Person of the Week, as well as some lovely facts about one of our state’s loveliest flowers. (Valley News Live)

Here’s the first bit of my Grand Forks Herald column. Click here to read on:

“I’ve been writing about kind and warmhearted people for almost a decade, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that like attracts like; shake a tree to get one nice North Dakotan, and a whole bushel will come tumbling out.

For example, a lovely resident of Valley Senior Living in Grand Forks named Wendy wanted to support the Grand Forks Public Schools’ Giving Tree Pantry, and so she held a necessities drive at the facility — and because the staff and the families of Valley Senior Living wanted to support both Wendy and Grand Forks Public Schools, they donated in force. Wonderful birds of a feather flock together.

And, sometimes, they throw Frisbees together.” (Grand Forks Herald)

In not-good-news-but-good-news, Dilworth’s Isabel Mansfield helped stop a potential school shooting in Pennsylvania. (Valley News Live)

Bismarck’s Noah Cowley ran 186.2 miles in three days to raise money for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. (KFYR TV)

What a cool idea. (Valley News Live)

Two men from Parshall now share a kidney donor. (KFYR TV)

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