This is an opinion column

Year after year, my husband and I go to the same 4th of July picnic in Sewanee, Tennessee. Friends gather in the same sunny spot on the campus of The University of the South, eating barbeque and potluck dinners, sipping tea or cold beer, socializing, and waiting for the town’s parade to start.

This year was no different.

The parade’s a combination of “town and gown,” a celebration of local civic clubs and university organizations, a “something for everyone” parade. And it’s all to celebrate Independence Day, though I heard a British accent over in the craft tents set up on the parade route. The British were coming, I guess.

Once the parade starts, excited children line up to catch candy thrown by the people riding on the floats. It’s like Mardi Gras but kids catch Tootsie Rolls instead of beads.

Dogs, large and small, lunge toward the street, determined to chase down the firetrucks right there in front of them, sirens splitting the air.

Their humans reel them in, keeping a tight leash when rival dogs prance by. Baby strollers get tangled up with dog tethers and parents and dog owners have to untie the mess.

But for all the chaos, there’s such life and spirit to the day. You could do worse than sit in a folding chair in a circle with friends and people you’ve never met before, talking the hours away.

But the years have made a change. We’re all older now and our talk may take a turn to medications and remedies. We may need to help each other get up from those low slung chairs or carry heavy coolers for each other.

This year, one chair collapsed and a replacement had to be found. This year, people were checking on each other a bit more: “Is everybody staying hydrated? Is everybody eating enough? Does anybody need sunscreen?”

One of the biggest fans of this gathering was an octogenarian who passed away a few years back. She was famous for waving her American flag at the men on the parade floats and flirting with them until they tossed her candy. They always did.

The organizers of this picnic started it 25 years ago so family and a few friends could celebrate the holiday. Each year it grew, and friends invited friends. There was a sign up sheet. An organizational chart. And then there wasn’t, and people knew the drill: Bring food to share. Bring what you said you’d bring or something pretty close. Meet at the same place on campus a few hours before parade time. Sit down and relax.

Talk to someone you’ve never met before. Meet his little dog wearing the flag scarf. Look over at the twins who were just toddlers last year and somehow are now nine or ten, their heads buried in books, not screens. Good parenting pays off.

Walk over to watch the parade as it winds through the town. The people show up every year, driving their floats, making noise, and waving to the crowd. Don’t let the parade pass you by. You never know how many parades you have left.

Contact Beth Thames at [email protected]