DAVID MARCUS: As the nation bickers, small-town America still loves a parade
The America 250 parade in Cumberland unites liberals and conservatives alike, proving that small-town celebrations can bridge political divides.
Like many small towns in Appalachia, this place is a liberal blue spec in a conservative red county. So I was curious to see if this hamlet could pull off an "America 250" parade that would really bring the entire community together.
Amid the buzz, the flags and patriotic T-shirts, I found Melinda Kelleher, the Main Street manager who was heavily involved with the planning. When I started to ask if that was a challenge in these divisive times, I couldn’t even end my sentence before she answered, "Yes."
But the town tackled this challenge, Kelleher told me.
"We wanted an event that could really bring the community together," she said, adding that there has been a revitalization of downtown Cumberland. "We have had 30 new shops open."
Kelleher mentioned Thursday and Saturday night events all through the summer meant to bring in not just county locals, but travelers from all over America, and the beautiful foothills town is certainly worth a trip.
There was real and deserved pride in her voice as we looked out over the throng, which included a man in his 70s named Al Fieldstein, a former government employee and quite competent amateur historian, I discovered.
Al told me "President Benjamin Harrison walked this parade route to celebrate the 100th anniversary of Allegheny County in 1889, and I remember the parades here when I was kid, seeing the World War I veterans," he said, glancing skyward. "They're all gone now."
Near our feet, young children played, awaiting the parade. I pointed down at them and said, "That was you, once."
I asked him what Cumberland’s place is in this 250-year history of our country, and he said, "We had the first national road, the first railroads. We have always been a crossroads for America."
But politics was not completely absent from the festivities. Terry, a retired lifelong resident and committed liberal, told me, "It's complicated with that man in the White House."
Terry did say, "I’m glad to be here, though, I really do love this place."
On the other side of the political spectrum, I talked to Jalen Grimm, a student at Frostburg University, who is affiliated with Turning Point USA and had a booth set up on the route.
I asked Grimm what message they were trying to send, and she said, "Just that we love America. We have buttons and pocket constitutions for people, and some stuff for Charlie," referring to the late TPUSA founder Charlie Kirk."
I asked her if it was tricky starting a conservative group at a college these days.
"I was nervous at first, but it's been great," she said. "We haven’t had many issues."
Not long after these chats with the celebrating throng, the distant sounds of drums got closer as the announcer marked the start of the parade. With bands and Army vehicles and the mayor tossing candy from a float, everything felt exactly like it should, maybe, like it used to.
These kinds of moments and this kind of spirit is still prevalent in America, more so than I think most people realize. Often, it is the Main Street managers like Kelleher, far from the national spotlight, who can thread this needle and bring people together.
It is also these tiny towns like Cumberland and Frostburg that instill their own patriotism, because even the people I meet there who aren’t particularly proud of their country at the moment, are furiously proud of their small piece of it.
It is very much like O. Henry's story, "The Cosmopolitan," most of which consists of a sophisticated man of the world at a bar, telling the author how silly it is to have national pride. Yet, at the end, the dandy ends up in a fistfight when someone insults his little town in Maine.
The America 250 parade in Cumberland, and the thousands of versions taking place from sea to sea are a real reason for optimism. Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro has refused to allow his commonwealth to participate in the America’s State Fair in Washington, but on the local level, things appear far less petty.
Do yourself a favor: If you have a small town throwing a shindig for America’s big birthday, go check it out, go be a part of it, forget for a while the anger and fury of national politics and just listen to the band, eat the funnel cake and love America.
