Last weekend was chock full of community events, friends, and food. The first Saturday in December is always big in Winthrop. There are church fairs, craft fairs, open houses, and, perhaps the most important, the Rotary’s Christmas-tree sale. (I bought a sweet little tree, perfect for our small house.) Then there is the holiday parade, complete with ambulances, fire trucks, dancing girls, and lots of candy being thrown. So much candy, in fact, that kids bring bags so they can gather the booty as the parade passes.

This year, some of the library trustees—-me, Mary Jane Auns, Liz Sienko, and Lorraine Fleury—-along with Shane Malcolm Billings, librarian extaordinaire, had planned to march in the parade. So on that cold, snowy, blowy late Saturday afternoon, we met at the top of the hill, by Cumberland Farms and Audette’s Hardware, to line up with the other participants. We brought our snappy banner, a little red wagon full of candy as well as library handouts, and we even had some children along, little elves who were more than happy to pass out the candy. (What child doesn’t want to pass out candy?) Naturally, the children had some of the candy, and the adults might have nipped a little, too. (I grabbed a bag of Swedish fish, one of my favorites.) After all, it was cold, and we needed to sustain ourselves.

As we waited at the top of the hill, the day grew darker and the weather colder. The dancing girls, in their skimpy costumes, jigged in place to keep warm. Because the library contingent qualified as walkers, we were told to go across the street to wait by the bank, and except for the Latin Club, off to one side in their fluttering white tunics, we seemed to be the only walkers waiting in the parking lot.

“Not much coordination,” I observed.

“Does this remind you of something out of a Barbara Pym novel?” Shane asked.

“Oh, yes,” I replied. “We are definitely in County Pym right now.”

A little while later, a police officer told us to come back across the street and wait behind a line of ambulances, who were heading the parade. As our group crossed, the man who originally sent us to wait by the bank asked me, “Why are you coming back here?” And he wasn’t smiling.

Fortunately, I’ve been involved with enough community activities so that I am relatively unfazed by this kind of disorganization. I pointed to the police offer. “He told us to come back.”

The man relented and smiled. “Oh, well. I guess he outranks me.”

Lucky us! No fine for disobeying orders. At least not this time.

Finally, with a blare of the sirens, the ambulances lurched forwarded. Lorraine and I were the banner bearers, and we marched sharply to keep up with the ambulances. In fact, we marched so sharply that we lost the rest of our group, who was busy passing out candy and handouts.

“Slow down!” we were told.

We slowed down. At least for a while, but then we pulled ahead again.

It didn’t matter. Along the street, children and adults waved and smiled at us.

“Merry Christmas!” someone called out. “Happy holidays!”

Our little Main Street was aglow with street lights and Christmas lights and filled with people. Somehow, I couldn’t stop smiling, and it wasn’t just because the cold had frozen my face in place. I guess you might say I caught a little holiday spirit on that march down the hill. Happy holidays, indeed.