This year I decided to watch the Schaumburg Labor Day Parade, whose name pretty much sums up the time and place (no one else in my family was interested). Luck was with the parade and parade-goers this year. The parade was held in the morning, under partly cloudy skies and in only somewhat hot and humid conditions. A few hours later, intense thunderstorms rolled through.

The parade featured a thin selection of local politicos — I expect state reps and senators and such had union picnics or rallies to go to — public service equipment, local businesses, veterans, nonprofits, clubs and two high school marching bands. None of the floats were that elaborate and sometimes there were minutes-long gaps in the movement of the parade. Ah, well. The bar’s a little lower on free entertainment.

The mayor of Schaumburg (actually village president) and some trustees came by first in golf cards, and a while later came the fire equipment.
Both the Schaumburg and Hoffman Estates FDs were represented.

An organization I knew nothing about.
Instead of forays into the wilderness, Sea Scouts take forays onto the water. A different kind of wilderness, I suppose. These days, co-ed.

The odd float of the Volkening Heritage Farm at Spring Valley. Complete with plants and an oom-pah band to celebrate Schaumburg’s German past.

Flag girls. They heralded the approach of the Schaumburg High School marching band.

A different sort of band.
The Memories Entertainment float. According to their sign, the band features Buck-A-Roo & the Fabulous Memories. For this parade, they were dressed as clowns and playing ’70s rock standards.

More flag girls.
This time, ahead of the Conant High School marching band.
When the band paused for a moment near me, I noticed a number of adults moving up and down the lines with squirt bottles, squirting liquid into the mouths of the band members. Water, I assume. I also saw one fellow squirt water on the back of the neck of a band member.
That struck me as odd. Forty years ago, I was in a marching band and we marched in a parade every year in April in San Antonio. Not terrifically hot, but always warm enough, and no one gave us water. I feel a curmudgeonly moment coming on. We marched in the heat and we got dehydrated and we liked it.