Many of my friends are posting on social media today about their ancestors. You see, where I live many of us can trace our family roots to a remarkable group of people who left their homes, their jobs, and many times, other family members to join others of their faith, far away, in the west.
Today my state celebrates Pioneer Day, which is weird because the 24th of July is not the date our state achieved statehood. It's the day Brigham Young rose from his sick bed and told those with whom he traveled that they have traveled enough. This was the place.
I've always been amazed that the famous church president chose such an amazing place. The weather is is wonderful (except for those days it gets too hot...). There's beauty in the mountains and the plains. It's an incredible place.
A tradition of Pioneer Day is, of course, the Pioneer Day Parade. People begin camping out days in advance to secure a prime viewing location. I once ran a 10K race and we ran along the parade route, so technically, I've been in that parade. As a youth, I participated in the Youth Parade. We dressed as vegetables. I think I was a giant corn or a bean.
But my mother takes the cake when it comes to having a cool parade story.
You see, when she was in high school, her high school marching band was invited to march in the 100 year anniversary of the famous Pioneer Day parade. Though my mom's no longer with us, I do have a couple of pictures. She played the tuba (or baritone or sousaphone...) and I believe you can spot her in the top picture. I think she's on the left, between the two tall men, one playing a sousaphone and the other playing a trombone. Of course, this may not be her, but I like to think it is. Then I can say, "See kids--that's your grandmother! Right there and she's marking in the Pioneer Day Parade in 1947."
And they will agree with me that that's pretty cool.