“We have a seat for you,” said a voice pointing to two lawn chairs on the curb of Narragansett Parkway a stone’s throw from Spring Green Drive where the Gaspee Days Parade has stepped off for more than 40 years.  The invitation caught me by surprise for several reasons. First was that there were two empty seats at such a prime location with people standing two and five deep behind them. Then it was the couple who made the invitation, Marilyn and Bernie Kilcline who I haven’t seen since last year’s parade if not longer. And finally, it was the thought of being a parade spectator rather than the reporter and photographer, although I could do that from a lawn chair, too.

“I’ll be back,” I said following the line of march in pursuit of capturing images of the event that has become as much a celebration of community as it is the commemoration of an act of defiance of the British Crown 251 years ago. As we approach the 250th anniversary of our nation’s birth it amazes me that more attention hasn’t focused on the events that took place on June 9th, 1772 off Namquid Point, Warwick.

On Friday night, I found myself telling the Burning of the Gaspee story while visiting my sister in Shellboure, MA.  The neighboring couple stopped over for rhubarb pie, and when I said I would be leaving early the next morning in order to get to the parade, they had no idea what I was talking about when I brought up the Gaspee affair. As I was finished telling the tale, they agreed the Boston Tea Party couldn’t hold a candle to – pun intended – to the Gaspee, yet the tea party is indelibly etched in history as a defining moment leading to insurrection.

Locally, the Gaspee Days Committee has planned so many events over the course of three weeks that’s it’s impossible to ignore the historic event. Everything is Gaspee, even the beers from Rhode Island breweries that come up with such brews as Hannah’s Revenge. I’m waiting for the Governor Francis Inn to come up with the Gaspee burger with a slice of English Stilton cheese and the meat singed black.

I make a point of arriving at Spring Green at least a half hour before Ron Barnes gave the command and the Pawtuxet Rangers, which those unfamiliar with the local militia would mistake for Brits in their red woolen uniforms , raise their muskets to give the opening shot of the parade. 

“I followed you on Route 146,” said Ben Craig from Jack Reed’s office who was coming from Woonsocket. Realizing my Beacon license plate was a dead giveaway, I explained I was driving back from western Mass. After all why else would I be on Route 146 at 8:50 Saturday morning?

We’re that closely knit.

I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Sheldon Whitehouse. “Happy Gaspee Days,” we exchanged before talking about boats. The senator owns a classic Herreshoff S boat that was the hot bay racing sailboat to the advent of fiberglass. He’s been out on the water this season. I expressed my envy. He extended an invitation. We hadn’t said a word about what’s happening in Washington or on the political scene nationally or locally as the custom at press conferences and announcements.

Photo opportunities abounded – co-parade grand marshals former Congressmen James Langevin and David Cicillini draped with their ribbons, Tracy Sorrell with her corgi Cadbury dressed as a Pawtuxet Ranger and an enraged Gaspee Days Committee veteran and arade organizer, Mark Russell,  when two trucks towing floats drove through the lineup to find their position. Foremost for Mark was the safety of spectators and parade participants and then how the drivers had abandoned instructions and how they would turn around. He wasn’t happy. It was an insight to the planning that goes into each of the Gaspee events.

Usually I walk a portion of the parade route recognizing from year to year the same people, waving a hello or exchanging bits of news before moving on. This year I took my time. Just as I expected, I found (rather I couldn’t miss) Marsha Beagan dressed in an American flag and waving an American.  She darted from the curb to greet me as she did for just about everyone else. Her effervescence is contagious. 

Close by I spotted Bart Angelo with an empty chair beside him. He waved me to sit down. I soon learned why he wore a broad smile.  He wasn’t at work.

For years I’ve bought my tires from Bart at Sullivan Tire. He recently retired after 29 years and is enjoying it.

”I get to have breakfast when I want,” he said. We talked about Conimicut and changes we’ve witnessed.  I got to meet his daughter and granddaughter whose chair I was probably sitting in.  That’s not the kind of thing that happened in years past when I was constantly on the move.  It added a dimension to the parade I hadn’t thought about, the connections between spectators and how the event is a reunion. Indeed, the parade brings together strangers and makes for new friends.

Having joined Bart and the Kilclines for a seat, maybe it’s time for me to bring a lawn chair to the parade, too.