Reflections on A (Sometimes Absurd) Life – Homecoming. It’s a Pleasant Hill Thing.
By Mary Tanck
PHMOmag Columnist
Graduating from Lee’s Summit High School in the 1990’s gave me a lot of things – a decent education, a love of American Literature (except for Melville, he wears me out), and a healthy regard for stoplights; but it, in no way, prepared me for a Pleasant Hill Homecoming Friday.
I lived here for several years before I had the pleasure of experiencing it myself. My first Homecoming parade was in 2011; my daughter was in preschool dance, and we volunteered our trailer for the Eva Moore’s Performing Arts Center float. Eva was just starting out that year too. I remember pulling into line for the parade and thinking it was like a carnival; it looked like the entire town was on one float or another.
The line-up gave me confidence that the 2 bags of Dum-Dums I had purchased from Dollar General to throw out would be plenty; after all, there could not be very many spectators if the parade was this long. (When I went to Dollar General that morning to find that two bags of Dum-Dums were the only candy left, it should have been a hint.) I can hear native Pleasant Hillians laughing at my naivety even now.
The sheer number of excited spectators of all ages lining the parade route was overwhelming. Where had all these people been hiding?
In the years since then, I have been in the parade a few times for EMPAC and Fleming Floral Station (I’ve never worked there, I’m just in high demand for parades) and every year I am blown away by how this town loves a parade. If you had asked this Lee’s Summit girl in 1995 if I would be in multiple Homecoming parades for a school I didn’t graduate from, I would have laughed at you. Lee’s Summit simply does not love a parade like Pleasant Hill does.
And Pleasant Hillians are no fair-weather parade fans. I’ve watched the parade when the heat index was 110 degrees and I’ve been on floats in my winter coat and gloves while the heavens looked ready to give way to snow. The crowds are unaffected and have the same enthusiasm for all of it.
Pleasant Hill turns out for the game too. Everyone dons their best purple and gold apparel. Old concerns are put aside. The men who bullied each other at the HOA meeting yesterday are shaking hands while their wives gush over each other’s Rooster swag tonight. They’ll go back to being mad about the trailer in one of the driveways tomorrow, but for now, it’s enough to sit on cold bleachers together and cheer the Roosters to victory.
After you have experienced your first Pleasant Hill Homecoming, it can be disconcerting to leave town on a Homecoming Friday. When you show up to work or to shop outside of Pleasant Hill and no one is wearing purple t-shirts or glitter in their hair, you want to scream, “What’s wrong with you??? Don’t you know today is Homecoming???” I don’t even hold a Pleasant Hill Diploma (PHD) and I can feel the electric pulse rising from the city like the thrum of a beehive every year on Homecoming. The air in other towns just feels dull and colorless in comparison – like Kansas after Dorothy wakes up. Honestly, it’s depressing to leave Pleasant Hill on a Homecoming Friday. The rest of the world just isn’t as electric, purple, and glowing.
God has a way of smiling on our little town during Homecoming. How many times has the second-most important Friday of the year dawned dark and rainy? Yet, somehow, the rain always clears up just in time for parade line-up to begin. This year was no exception. It rained all morning, cleared up for the parade, began again, and cleared up again for the game. Homecoming brings smiles for everyone, from the week-old babe swaddled in his mother’s arms to the elderly being wheeled to the sidewalk by nurses and loved ones. Maybe that’s why God ensures our little slice of joy will be uninterrupted each year.
Homecoming. It’s a Pleasant Hill thing.
This week, I encourage you to find joy. If you missed the parade and the game, scroll through social media and your friends’ photos – you’ll find plenty. And maybe toss your neighbor a Blow-Pop – just don’t poke an eye out.