On Wednesday, some people scrambled to finish their masks before we paraded around the neighborhood. A spectacle, I can say that I am happier as spectator than object.
I remember when my sister rode one of our horses in a parade. I longed to be a part of the festivities, but, a couple of years later, when I had a chance to be in a parade dressed in my Bluebird costume, it was hot and horrible, and we had to keep marching on and on. I still think of that uncomfortable day when I have on a turtleneck (a part of our uniform that day). Wearing my mask was not as horrible as the turtleneck – because I could take it off as I needed to.
The school did a good job of supplying enough mezcal and a band to get most of us dancing in the heat of the day. We circled Llano Park and then crossed over to Conzatti Park, stopping pedestrians in the park and traffic along the way. In the photos, you can see how people looked at our demonstration.
The most meaningful part of the comparsa was when we returned to the Instituto. The band played a few tunes and then approached the altar to play the favorite songs of the man and woman who had helped to build the grounds of the place, the parents and grandparents of the people running the place now. It was a moving reminder of what we are really celebrating.
shewhodaresnothing 