Finn marched in the Metuchen Winter Festival Parade.   It is called the Winter Festival to be politically correct, but I think the orgins of the festivities were clearly present with arrival of Santa in his sleigh.  Ummm … it like used to be the Christmas Parade, but don’t tell anyone.  

At a recent Chamber of Commerce meeting, which Finn attended with his mom,  there was an intense discussion about what holiday decorations would be allowed, where they could be placed and why.   Apparently it cost the city of Morristown $300,000 to fight a lawsuit by a group atheists that did not want any secular symbols like a tree or a wreath placed in the town square.    We are not talking a manger or a menorah.   We are talking greenery.   People are insane.  By the way, they won their suit since town property is “owned” by the entire community.  $300,000 is an expensive lesson in political correctness.   In any event,  Metuchen has a tree placed on the private property of a local bank instead of our beautiful brand-new Borough Hall.   

It was 60 degrees, but we still bundled the little man like an Elf.   I ended up carrying him for the 1/2 mile parade route through town.   He wanted to see all the action. 


You already know Finn comes from a lineage of hairdressers,  but what you don’t know is that he also has a genetic-predisposition to marching.   His Nonnie was a baton twirler for Scranton Tech’s Red Raiders.   I followed in my mother’s footsteps marching with Judy’s Twirlettes.   For the major parades,  I wore a felt tuxedo commissioned by Grandma Dougher with a cumberbun and obnoxiously large bowtie coordinated to the holiday at hand.   Next time we are in PA I will scan a photo.   Scranton Haute Couture at its finest.  

Finn also has marching in his blood from his father’s days in formation at West Point.   Nana says John had a hard time with the pivot.   I could have taught him a thing or two.

He liked the bagpipers. 


See Finn Strut (well be strutted at least) 


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