A parade does not run on good intentions and lemonade fumes.
It would be nice if it did. Somebody would whistle, a marching band would appear, the horses would line up politely, the veterans would wave, the kids would cheer, and downtown would magically clean itself up afterward.
But that is not how real life works.
The Gazette reports that the 83rd Pikes Peak or Bust Parade will go on in Colorado Springs after local donors closed a funding gap that had threatened to cancel it. The parade, scheduled for July 11, is expected to include about 50 entrants and between 120 and 140 horses. Organizers said the event faced a fundraising shortfall of just over $30,000, with total costs for the parade and similar events running at least $50,000.
That money pays for the stuff nobody claps for.
Police. Emergency services. Barricades. Insurance. Waste removal. Parking impacts.
All the unglamorous pieces that make the horses, bands, veterans, kids, floats, volunteers, and families possible.
In normal-person English: if we want local traditions to survive, somebody has to pay for the barricades.
That is why this story matters.
The parade was in trouble. The community noticed. And local businesses stepped up. UCHealth came in as title sponsor, with key contributions from American Medical Response and Bank of Colorado helping fill the gap.
Good.
Not because government has no role. It does. Public safety matters. Streets matter. Permits matter. Local leaders can help connect people and solve problems.
But the soul of a town is usually saved by neighbors before it is saved by paperwork.
This is how smaller government and lower taxes actually work in the real world. You cannot say you want government to do less and then expect nobody else to do more. If a community wants traditions, events, parades, rodeos, breakfasts, festivals, youth programs, and civic life, then the community has to show up.
Businesses write checks. Volunteers give Saturdays. Parents haul kids downtown. Somebody backs a horse trailer into a tight spot before most of us have found coffee.
Somebody handles radios, cones, trash bags, insurance forms, porta-potties, and the other sacred mysteries of public events.
That is culture with calluses.
And these traditions matter more than we sometimes admit. Kids see horses downtown. Families line the street. Veterans are honored. Western heritage becomes more than a bumper sticker. For one morning, a city remembers it has roots.
Not everything old is automatically sacred. Not every tradition can or should be preserved exactly as it was. Costs are real. Safety is real. Volunteer fatigue is real. Small businesses are tightening their belts, too.
But when a community lets every old civic tradition disappear, it loses more than a Saturday morning event.
It loses memory. It loses continuity. It loses one more reason for families to feel like they belong somewhere.
Colorado is at its best when regular people see a need, roll up their sleeves, and get something done without immediately running to government with one hand out and the other pointing blame.
The Pikes Peak or Bust Parade will march this year.
That is worth celebrating.
Now comes the responsibility part.
Show up. Bring the kids. Spend locally. Thank the sponsors. Wave at the veterans. Smile at the horses. Help where you can. And maybe quit assuming someone else will always keep the good things moving down the street.
Because community does not preserve itself.
Neighbors do.
Source: The Gazette
Share your thoughts...