Some people hate the noise and bustle of a place like Washington, D.C. Staying down near the White House, judging a high school civics competition, was exotic, exciting, and fun (and, for a girl from Wisconsin, those temperatures in the 70s couldn�t be beat!) I loved the freedom to stroll over to the mall and watch the people. I liked sunning in the shadow of the White House or of the Washington Monument. I loved wandering the Smithsonian�s Museum of American History for free.

What I loved best though was the parade. As things turned out, I was very glad I watched it but I couldn�t have helped myself. When I see a parade going by, I watch it�particularly at a time of year when just sitting outside with no coat is a novelty. The buildings and monuments are important but they are likely to remain there for another time. Parades are here and gone.

Besides, I�m still the kid whose mother and grandmother took her to the Detroit Zoo. I�m still the kid who sat in my stroller as they showed me elephants and monkeys and bears. And I�m still the kid who excitedly told others not about the animals, but about the people we�d seen. I like stone and brick but I�m a people-watcher.

The parade was the AAA Safety Patrol Parade for the Washington, D.C. schools. It started with the obligatory fire engine and police car and then it had African-American kids marching. It had middle school steppers in cheerleader outfits. It had proud kids with matching red (or blue or yellow or green) t-shirts and safety patrol belts. It had a few high school bands. It had a few middle school bands, desperately trying to drum in the same rhythm, with some succeeding much better than others. It even had a preschool class with plastic firemen�s hats on, marching to salute the heroes who keep us safe. The preschool class came with its own sidelines parade of strollers, pushed on the sidewalks by mothers just waiting for little legs to give out.

I sat down on the curb and watched. The kids were so delighted with themselves. Some marched. Some walked. Some strutted and did step routines. One or two cartwheeled. Some shouted out cheers as they went. Some held banners, inevitably at odd angles. Some marched in rows. More marched in bunches.

But the scene said more about our capital than simply that it is a place where people really live. Mainly white Americans, many of them in family groups, hustled along the sidewalk, obviously intent on seeing the important sites of the capitol. Nearly all those who stopped to sit on the curb, on benches, or just stand around were African-American, many marked by their conversations as mothers and fathers. After I had watched for quite some time, beaming at the four-year-old next to me who was all wiggles and anticipation as she waited for her brother to walk by, I fell into conversation with those watching the parade.

For a half-hour or so, we chatted about what we were seeing. We discussed the spaces between some groups (which were too big), the enthusiasm of one group, the outfits of another. Then the woman next to me looked at me for long time. She gave a bit of a hard stare. �What are you thinking?� I asked.

�Why are you sitting here, watching? Why aren�t you running by like them?� she responded, pointing to the tourists rushing by, rarely bothering to look up, despite the bands. �I like watching the kids. I like seeing their enthusiasm. I like seeing how proud they are,� I told her. �Well,� she said. �Thank you. It�s nice to know someone around here sees our kids.�

At that moment, I was particularly glad I watched the parade. Every kid needs people to look at them, particularly when they are doing something very right. We see the kids who cause trouble. We put them in headlines. We put them on the evening news. These kids were marching because they helped others in their neighborhoods and communities.

I intended to enjoy a sunny Saturday morning full of bands, of excitement, and of kids at their best. Apparently, standing there, I made a statement. Apparently, standing there, I said something that I didn�t even know needed saying as badly as perhaps it does. And I�m glad I did. I said something that needs to be said�before the parade passes by.

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