At Large in Ballard by Peggy Sturdivant

There are some stories that you are allowed to tell over and over, like telling a child the story of their birth. I've told this story before but I'm allowed to tell it at least once a year, and especially this year, because the 4th of July falls on a Wednesday, as it did back in 1995.

Back in 1995 I certainly didn't know that passing out an anonymous flyer inviting everyone on the street to a 4th of July Parade and Potluck was going to create an annual tradition now in its 13th year. I consider it proof of the power of the written word, and feel personal triumph when the block is free of all cars for one glorious day.

It all started with a newspaper article suggesting summer activities including: Organize a Kid's Parade. When I realized the 4th of July was going to fall on a Wednesday, leaving it marooned in the middle of the week, I decided it would be the ideal day to plan a neighborhood party. Most people wouldn't be able to add two extra vacation days onto the holiday - the neighbors were likely to be in town. I probably just wanted an excuse not to leave the block on the 4th; I never recovered from the Lake Union Fireworks traffic jam of 1990.

So I made party announcement flyers and my daughter and I slipped them under the corners of welcome mats. We had no idea beforehand if anyone was planning to attend, until finally one neighbor dropped off a case of beer and another volunteered her daughter-in-law for face painting. I made extra food. Then on the 4th of July I stepped outside in the early afternoon and realized the cars had been moved. The words delivered to doorsteps had worked magic.

Just before 2 p.m. on that first Wednesday, neighbors came out of their houses with their dogs decorated, streamers attached to handlebars and perched lawn chairs at the edge of the planting strip. And so it has been ever since. On July 4th all the younger children from our block, and blocks around, gather for a Kid's Parade.

It's not as impressive as it sounds. One year a man in a wheelchair arrived early and parked himself on the corner claiming he'd read about a parade in the newspaper. "It wasn't this one," I warned him. Toddlers are pulled in decorated wagons and there's always one child struggling up the hill on a tricycle while older kids wait at the cross street to race downhill and do it all over again. Parents on the sidelines cheer. Afterwards, the neighbors pull picnic tables and grills to the mid-point for a potluck/talent show/party that goes on longer every year, sometimes past the fireworks. The adults chat and the kids play - up, down, and in the street all day, and into the evening. Other days of the year they go to different schools, take different buses, have other friends. But at least at a certain age, no one wants to be anywhere else on the 4th of July, because for some it's the best day of the year.

The party started 14 years ago but now the relationships last all year long, weathering the winter darkness while new alliances form between families with young children. Over the years as a block, we've supported each other through deaths, a terrible house fire, the Nisqually earthquake, hit and run accidents, garage sales. Some of us still hide behind our deadbolts and shaded windows but for the most part, ever since that first Wednesday, the neighbors, young or old, lifers or newly arrived, childless or with newborns, have always emerged from their individual homes at least one day a year. Most have stayed "out" ever since.

Who knew in 1995 that the neighbors would insist that the parades continue year after year, surviving when the holiday fell on weekends, trash days, and that one year of rain? Meanwhile after 12 years I'm finally passing at least part of the torch to someone else as organizer. All I've really done since the first year is to update the flyer and field the occasional phone call. In the last few years, most of the calls were from boys wanting to know the time of the water fight - which I explained was not an officially sanctioned event. I allow people to drop off prizes and pretend to be able to answer questions, when the only question that stands between the event and success is, will it rain? Everybody already knows their role: sawhorses placed at each end of the street, folding tables filled with food and umbrellas, flags flying.

The children who first marched in the parade now stand reluctantly with adults on the sidewalk. Thank heavens for the new crop of families with children willing to wear Superman capes and sing, "You Are My Sunshine." They invite other friends and our sleepy little block becomes an annual destination. I won't be passing out the flyers this year but I'll still step out a half an hour before parade time and survey the street: banishing the cars still seems like my greatest accomplishment. The rest of party is just icing.

Even though kids get older and some families move, I hope that in future everyone who ever lived here will look back and remember how the best day of the year used to be spent on their very own block in Ballard. The day on the street that everyone always stopped whatever they were doing and stayed out to play, no matter what day of the week.

Peggy's email is atlargeinballard@yahoo.com She writes additional pieces for the P.I's Ballard Webtown at http://blog.seattlepi.nwsource.com/ballard/