My eyes they are a'smiling because I watched the Dorchester Day Parade this afternoon. If I shed tears, they are joyful ones. No one is sad for long in Dorchester. Stepping off the front porch lands a glum fellow into the upbeat company of a milling throng who have drained thier cups and are out looking to build a fresh tab somewhere or other along Dot Ave.
While contentedly watching the parade go by, the woman next to me got very excited. "Oh my %#!**$#* God!" she exclaimed, "There's the Mayor!" I looked for Thomas M. Menino, but I didn't see his unmistakeably bulky silhouette. I asked, "Where?" "There! There!" she said, and she pointed, "It's him, the Mayor of Dorchester!" Indeed it was, none other than the Honorable Stephen Bickerton, Jr. He was greeted like the singer Tom Jones as he passed by, without the women's underpants being tossed. We are in Dorchester, after all, and Dorchester Day is a family event. The Hon. Mr. Bickerman sure has some enthusiastic admirers though. Who knows how he would be greeted if we had been in Las Vegas.
After the parade ended, the sky started to cloud up. Heaven hid its face, sorry that the festivities were drawn to a close. The temperature dropped but it was still suitable for cookouts in Dorchester Park, Franklin Park, Victory Park, Ronan Park, Malibu Beach, Nonquit Park, Ryan Park, Mothers' Rest, or in back yards across the breadth of wide-ranging Dorchester. The celebration, as well as the pride will continue for another year, unabated as long as the fires are annually stoked.
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