Coeur d’Alene 4th of July Parade, 2022

Creative work submitted by the talented Lindsey Barber (she/her)

I woke up thinking about it.

If I go, will I die?
No one would actually shoot me…I think.
Is it responsible to take the risk?
I have children. They need me.
Do I set a better example for them by playing it safe or by showing up?
I walk to the closet.
Should I put on the shirt?
The logo may as well be a target around here. It’s dangerous to identify yourself as a
Democrat in Idaho.
I take a deep breath and tell myself

It’s only a parade.

I can’t decide so I lay back down in bed.
I look at my husband sleeping.
Will he have the will to get up tomorrow and be strong for our kids if I’m dead?
I kiss his shoulder.
Yesterday, he told me I should skip it,
Take time to relax instead.
“You need at least one weekend day to rest.”
But I stand up.

It’s only a parade.

I make coffee.
Here’s one last act of love for my husband, still asleep in our bed.
I’ll leave it on the counter and he can warm it up.
I start a load of laundry.
One last act of love for the kids.
They’ll have clean swimsuits and towels for swim lessons tomorrow.
No. Not *last* acts of love, I tell myself.

It’s only a parade. But maybe.

I get a text.
Our lineup location has been moved back.
Why? Will it be easier for law enforcement to protect us from the “patriots” if we’re at the
end? Or will they just kill fewer bystanders if they aim for us there?
Did they move our group to mitigate chaos?
Don’t be ridiculous. How would that even work?
I’m overreacting, I tell myself.

It’s only a parade.

I put on my shirt.
I gather an umbrella, a rain jacket, and a water bottle, and I walk out the door.
No one is around to kiss goodbye.
I drive downtown, listening to music.
Lizzo asks “Baby, how you feelin’?”
“Anxious as hell,” I tell her.
I park and walk alone a few blocks toward the lineup location.
Is it safe to be by myself on a side street in this shirt?
Don’t be silly, I think

It’s only a parade.

I find my group, hug my friends, and pet the mini donkeys.
It’s raining and everyone is wet and cold, but the energy we get from each other warms us and I’m not scared now.
Mostly.
Things are moving, so I walk, holding one end of our banner, smiling and waving to the crowd.
Some cheer and wave at us.
Some boo.
Some cover their heads with tarps as we walk past.
Some lead their children in “Let’s go, Brandon!” chants.
Why do they think I’m the one indoctrinating children?
I smile and wave through it all because love, not hate, makes America great.
And there are no visible AR-15s.
I’m thankful

It’s only a parade.

We roll up the banner at the end of the route and say our goodbyes.
Why was I so anxious today?
I find friends from the Women’s March group behind us and we walk back toward our vehicles.
A tiny car races up the quiet street and I pause.
Would they run me over for wearing this shirt?
I scoot farther to the side of the road just in case.
My friend jokes that the car is so small, it would be destroyed if it hit me.
I laugh but still wonder.
She is parked a few blocks closer than I am and we arrive at her car first.
Do I want a ride?
Normally I love to walk, but today, I accept the safety of a four-block cruise in her Subaru.

It’s only a parade. But still.

On my way home, I call an elderly ally to make sure he got home ok.
He appreciates the concern for his safety and assures me he’s drying off, warming up,
and cuddling the cat.
He’s also watching the news.
He tells me there was a mass shooting at a 4th of July parade in Illinois.
People are dead.
People like me.
I bet witnesses and victims all left home today feeling safe because

It’s only a parade.