Peachtree City’s July 4th Parade is coming up, and once again Fayette citizens will swarm around floats and golf carts for this annual tradition. I’m a big fan, not just of the holiday, but because I’ve been both a spectator and a participant, and it’s fun from both sides of the curb.
City records put the year of the original parade at 1973. In the 1980s and early 90s, the route started at J. C. Booth Middle School and crossed Ga. Hwy. 54 twice before ending at City Hall. But once the highway was widened, the parade shifted south onto Peachtree Parkway to its current two-mile route.
Hundreds of people line the street to watch, parked in lawn chairs or perched on golf carts. It’s a patriotic plethora of red, white and blue shirts, hats, beads and bunting — even the dogs are dressed up. City rules prohibit staking out your spot before sunrise on parade day, so the early bird gets the berm.
The parade draws about 100 entries from Peachtree City and elsewhere in Fayette County. Awards are given in seven categories, and the competition can be tight. Among the clubs, schools, businesses and churches, creativity blooms. I’ve seen floats designed as airplanes and ships, a Trojan horse and a fair number of tiki bars, plus a golf cart made to look like a double-decker bus. There was even a float depicting Jesus as a lifeguard, zinc nose and all.
Each parade has a grand marshal, which is often a military veteran, notable athlete, local politician or even a major politician: former president Jimmy Carter did the honors once, since his son Jeff lives here. This year’s honoree will be piano prodigy Adrian Romoff.
The view from the sidelines is fun, but I also recommend being part of the parade. I’ve done it several times, including the year the Peachtree Dog Park built a float in my driveway honoring military and police dogs. On behalf of a friend who ran for public office, my family and I rode alongside a giant mechanical boot float, in a golf cart endlessly blaring the song “I Fought the Law” (but despite “the law” winning in the song, he didn’t).
Whether you’re walking or watching, there is always the candy and other swag tossed from the floats to the sidelines. You have to stay alert or risk a Starburst in your sternum.
Despite the earnest efforts of the kids along the curb, there is inevitably a lot of candy left strewn in the street. Seeing the pavement after dozens of vehicles have rolled through gives new meaning to “candy crush.” But the city’s cleanup crews do an amazing job of sweeping that all away; an hour or so after the parade, you can scarcely tell one had passed by.
Some might say that if you’ve seen one parade, you’ve seen them all. But on a mid-summer morning when friends and neighbors come together to celebrate the spirit of the holiday, I’m just fine with seeing them all.
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