Parading through tradition

The Stampede parade is tomorrow, kicking off 10 days of free pancakes, fireworks, and free concerts. And, of course, we’re going to the parade on Friday morning and to the grounds. Twice.

A lot of Calgarians have a love-hate relationship with the Stampede, but we love it, cowboy cliches and all. Colin and I are both third-generation Calgarians, which is increasingly rare in this booming, diverse city, and my great-grandfather was at the first Stampede in 1912. We’re looking forward to the 2012 Stampede — I’m not sure if there has been a member of either of our families at every single Stampede in the last 100 years, but I’m sure it’s close, and barring any extreme circumstances, we’ll be well-represented at the centennial.

The parade is an experience unto itself. Growing up, we would get up really, really early on parade day and head downtown, armed with lawn chairs, breakfast in backpacks, and some toys or books or something to keep us kids occupied until the parade actually started. On a good year, we’d get downtown by 5:45; when we were running late, it might be closer to 7:30, and that was really pushing it. Space — especially curb seats with enough space for all the chairs — is at a premium, and the only way to guarantee a good spot is to get there early.

Our traditional parade breakfast was a container of muffins and a box of Froot Loops. We didn’t get “sweet cereal” any other time of the year, but on parade day, we got to eat Froot Loops like they were Cheerios. That alone was enough to make it one of our favorite days of the year.

One year, Mom and Dad had decided not to go to the parade, since the forecast called for rain. I was about 8 or 9, and that was absolutely unacceptable to me, so I set my alarm for about 4:00, got up and made a batch of blueberry muffins, woke my sister and had her help me load up the car, got my brother (still sleeping) into his carseat, and then went and woke my parents. I told them that we were ready to go — the car was packed, Carl and Esther were waiting in the car, and they just needed to get dressed and drive.

They did.

That was one of the years when we got downtown the latest, but because of the possibility of rain, there weren’t as many people there, so we still got great seats. And it didn’t rain.

For the past few years, Colin and I have made our way downtown at 5:30 AM, claiming our seats (and one year, sitting across the street from a radio station broadcasting live. We gave them muffins.) and continuing the tradition with various family members and friends. There’s something kind of spectacular (if yawn-inducing) about getting there while the sidewalk is almost empty and watching it fill up with families and excited kids.

This year, I’m working downtown, and my office is attached to the city’s performing arts centre. Employees at the centre have the option of bringing lawn chairs to the stage door on Thursday and having security set them out in the morning, ensuring great curbside seats that we don’t have to claim at 5:30. We can get there at 9 or 9:30, when the parade is starting blocks away, and still be there in plenty of time for it to make its way past us.

I don’t know that we’ve made a final decision as to what we’re going to do about it, but it kind of feels like cheating to me — just like buying tickets for the bleacher seats feels like losing out on half the fun of the experience. I suppose that traditions can change, and if it means not getting up at 4:45 AM, that’s just a bonus, but it still feels wrong somehow.

Maybe it’s time to do it differently for a while. But when we’re bringing our kids, you can bet they’ll get the full experience, 4:45 wakeup call and all.