I was incidentally visiting home on Homecoming this Friday. Homecoming in Black River Falls entails a mid-afternoon parade down main street. I took this parade very seriously when I was much younger. I still recall efforts to paint my fingernails black and a fleshy peach color that was as close to orange as I could find at the local drugstore. We used to call the parade the Hobo Parade because all the elementary and middle school students were expected to dress as hobos. A hobo queen and king were elected for each grade. I think this was a way of not excluding anyone in an impoverished school district. Everyone had the means to be a good bum. It did not offend my parents that our hobo fare came straight from their closet. Our costumes always included crazy hats and standard-size pillows tucked half in our pants and half up our shirts.
It is strange to see things of former importance in my life lose their significance.
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