NJ2LA: Burbank on Parade

Sunday was Burbank on Parade.

Burbank, behind all of its studios and media districts, is really a small town. A small town full of subpar marching bands, gaggles of realtors tee-heeing and dressing up as stewardesses, and local dance clubs. And horses. This is a very horsey town.

The parade was started off with 6 helicopters flying over the parade route. Burbank is very proud of its aviation history and its small, but immeasurably better than LAX, airport. It's named for Bob Hope, the patron saint of Burbank.

Realtors.

Burbank! On Parade! Let's celebrate our aviation history! (Lockheed Martin was here. Lots of WW2 action from here.) My friends concede that the parade was kind of a let down from last year. Last year was Burbank's centennial so it was a big thing.

After living in New York most of my life, it feels very bizarre that I live in a place that has only been around for 100 years. Or, at the very least, incorporated for 100 years. Put it this way: my house in New Jersey was a year older than our new town. I am pretty convinced that there is plumbing in the house I grew up in that is older than our new town.

Here's what's behind every small town: a bunch of sweaty, potbellied union guys that were persuaded by their wives to walk for miles in the hot sun pushing an unwieldy sign. Thanks, gents.

I grew up with those guys. I served them at the Burger King drive through when I was in high school. They were all absent on the first day of hunting season. They all live in my neighborhood now and they have giant campers filling up their driveways. I used to say that I was a reformed redneck -- learned how to drive in a standard-shift pickup; have shot a woodchuck in my day; the best concert I've ever been to was a metal band, Queensryche. (It was the Silent Lucidity tour. It's like the Upstate NY equivalent of seeing Roger Waters doing a tour of Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking. By the way, Roger, if you are reading this, I was perfectly happy to pay all that money to see you do The Wall but I would pay twice the amount for a full-on Pros and Cons tour. You could have a CGI Jack Palance at the end just like Tupac at Coachella!) I seem to have moved back to my old town.

It was 87 degrees. I guarantee none of these guys were wearing sunscreen.

The fire department. Every so often they'd let out a fountain of water. Ladies (and discerning gents) of SO and M: I am here to tell you that we have a professional, not volunteer, fire department here in Burbank. They are pretty spectacularly hunky.

The police gave out little balsa airplanes. Arlo broke three of them in roughly six minutes.

This is one of our random elected officials. I need to get up to speed on local politics.

There were a lot of Snoopy references.

Should we stay here, this will be our kids' high school. This is their alumni band. They were having more fun that should be legal.

Girl Scouts!

Here's our local band: Captain Cardiac and the Coronaries. They did not suck.

Our local naval base sent a truck towing gigantic missles. Part of me is like "Yay, go Navy!" (I come from a proud Navy family.) The other part of me is all "Really? Let's celebrate our town by showing weapons that were used to kill civilians in Afghanistan?" Dear local Naval base: weapons might be impressive, but even a bluestocking liberal like myself loves and respects our service people. Show me a tank, or a boat, and some sailors. I will continue to send my kids over to thank you for your service every time I see you on the street, and I will continue to buy you a drink when we are in the same restaurant. But I would prefer to celebrate how you keep us safe rather than how you kill people.

This, I loved. It was a sign on the car identifying the John Burroughs High School Photographer's club. it was followed by a pack of gawky teenagers scuttling over to the curb and taking pictures of the crowd. It was adorable. Our babysitter Jared attends John Burroughs, and so will our kids, should we stay here. Every time we drive by the school, all the kids yell "That's Jared's school!" I love that there is a bunch of creative kids at that school that thought, wouldn't it be funny if we had a float in the parade and then just took pictures of everyone? Yes, kiddos, it was funny. I hope you got some awesome photos, and I hope my kids are in your ranks someday.

Marching bands. Marching bands make me cry. Always have; always will. The bands from our two local high schools were pretty good but nothing compared to the Columbia Marching Band. I think West Coast marching bands don't have the influence of the African American drum line culture.

The school superintendent went by on a classic car. A bunch of waving walkers followed. I followed a hunch and hollered out "Sheri Taylor!" Sure enough, our principal was walking along. She was thrilled we called her over, greeted Oscar and Arlo by name, and took a picture of our family watching the parade (and I took a picture of her taking a picture).

Wild Bill Hickock's Wild West Parade.

In the words of my dad, the Hysterical Society. They've tricked out an old school bus to look like a locomotive (trains and horses are big out here).

Here's representatives from all our sister cities. I usually fall asleep before I can watch Parks and Recreation, but I love the show. My mom was the Recreation Director in my hometown and it is very familiar to me. There were a couple times when Evan turned to me during the parade and said, "This is very Pawnee." This was one of them.

I haven't encouraged my parents to watch Parks and Recreation, even though it is very similar to their lives, being very involved with their beloved small town, as employees, volunteers, and active citizens. I know that the minute they watch it, it will be just like their review of Christopher Guest's "A Mighty Wind." "We didn't think it was all that funny." It's a little too close to them. I grew up listening to their vinyl copies of The Kingston Trio, Peter, Paul and Mary, and, yes, Up With People.

I must say that my folks assume that Waiting for Guffman is pretty much the best movie ever made, after The Quiet Man. There will be no more discourse on my parents' taste, since they are correct in their assumptions.