Ridgecrest, not at all surprisingly, goes all out for Patriots Day (I hate that name), with a parade of hundreds of people carrying 1000 flags. Patriots Day, of course, was today, not yesterday, but everyone in Ridgecrest except us goes to church on Sunday, so you can't be having a parade then.
It started at 9 am and we didn't even get out of the house until 9:15, so we missed the parade down Ridgecrest and China Lake Boulevards. We drove straight to Freedom Park, where the parade ended, and watched all the people walk in with their flags. MORON that I am, I had forgotten the camera. Actually, I don't think I realized how photogenic the event would be. It really was very dramatic, not to mention creepy, with a substantial portion of the population carrying these enormous flags. They marched into the park and mounted each flag on pieces of concrete rebar that had been stuck in the grass at regular intervals. We left as soon as the flag people finished marching in, because there were going to be speeches by our (Republican) state senator and state representative, and gosh, we thought we could skip that.
I don't know, I have such mixed feelings about this whole thing. As I've said before, I remember 9/11 as being a terribly sad occasion. I will never forget -- however much I might want to -- the sight of those buildings collapsing, the people jumping out to their deaths. Nor will I forget the "coming together" that happened afterwards, when I happily stood in a long long line at work to give blood -- closely followed by the patriot paranoia, when people covered their cars with flags and if you opposed the war in Iraq you were accused of "not supporting the troops."
I don't understand why the sad anniversary of that sad day has to be called Patriots Day. What does that even mean? Are we saying that the people who died were patriots? Or are we saying that the events of 9/11 turned us all into patriots? Or is it just a way to justify the continuation of the Patriot Act?
After lunch, we drove to Tehachapi, which is only about 70 miles away, in the mountains toward Bakersfield. We had been there the previous weekend as well, and a huge fire had just started burning in the mountains the day before we went -- we watched it with interest. Now, as we approached the city, we saw a fire in the mountains. "Hey," I said. "I thought the Canyon fire was pretty much out."
"That fire's not out," Rocket Boy said. "I see flames!"
"Wait, that's not where the other fire was," I said. "It's a different mountain."
We pulled off the road and took the photo above, which does not begin to show how dramatic this fire was. Sure enough, we found out it was a new fire, caused by lightning. Actually three fires, all rapidly spreading. We watched with interest.
Oktoberfest was not nearly as exciting as the fires, but it was pleasant. An ethnic celebration for white people, and just as bland as that sounds. Here's the lederhosen contest (won by the guy second from left -- I thought the guy with the long beard should have won).
We spent most of our time playing in the park -- there's a little train to play on downtown near the festivities, and we also walked a few blocks to another park. Around 5 pm the sky was looking really threatening, so we decided to have dinner.
For $10 you got a gigantic brautwurst, a brotchen to put it in, a scoop of potato salad, a scoop of sauerkraut, and a non-alcoholic beverage (beer was extra -- we skipped that). We bought 3 plates and encouraged the boos to share. What would a good Weight Watcher do with this, I wondered. Even the sauerkraut (the vegetable, right?) was full of bacon. After we finished, Baby B said to me, "My tummy hurts," and I had to agree.
By then the raindrops were starting to fall and the sky was full of lightning, so we went home. Baby A is terrified of lightning, so he wore a towel over his head all the way home. We put them to bed and a few minutes later the storm hit Ridgecrest. Nice to get some moisture, I must say.
This morning (Sunday), the real Patriots Day, we went back to Freedom Park to look at the flags again (they survived the storm unscathed). Unencumbered by Republicans, I was able to see them a little differently. Instead of a fascist display, each flag seemed to be standing in for one of those people who died. And honestly, a flag seemed like a nice way to represent them. I like my country, I like its flag. I hate what people turn it into -- wielding their flags like weapons. But in that quiet space I was able to feel my own little memorial. Sad for the people who died, glad they could be a flag.
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