Being Geek Chic is a blog for stylish geeks, sophisticated nerds and people who enjoy the musings of a complete dork. Join us as we dream of driving the TARDIS, cuddle with our eBooks and test out an iPad sleeve. It's written by Elizabeth Giorgi and a team of brilliant lady nerds. Meet the team.
Many of you probably thanked your father today for teaching you to play basketball, taking you to the movies and helping you with your math homework. My dad did all those things for me too. But he also did something most of the other dads didn’t do: he made parade floats.
Every spring my dad would turn to my brother and I and ask what kind of parade float we would like to ride in for the upcoming summer season. The summer parade season in northern Minnesota isn’t like the Thanksgiving Day parade you see on TV. Instead, soaking wet kids and their sunburned parents flock to the streets for outdoor merriment, which is decidedly less glamorous and free of televised play by plays.
Iron Rangers, in particular, take their parades very seriously. Every town on the Mesabi Iron Range has its own day of celebration between Memorial and Labor Day with a parade to kick off the activities. And on top of that, each town also holds some kind of 4th of July parade. In case you’re not counting, this adds up to nearly 40 freaking street spectacles, complete with candy tossing over the course of three months.
Most families just attend these parades. But thanks to my dad’s creativity, we were part of the show. Our first float was a tribute to the Lion King. At the time, I LOVED Simba and I was so proud of that first float. The ultimate goal was to win a trophy and prize money in the process. (And by prize money, I mean $50. And by trophy, I mean bragging rights.)
Clearly, my dad was no average pa. In addition to being my soccer coach, taxi driver and biology tutor - he was an artist and a creator. He was a competitive parade float maker. That’s a rare, rare talent my friends.
Lion King. Pocahontas. Charlie Brown and Company. Toy Story. Care Bear.
Each of our favorite characters would come to life and then once they were on the truck, we would add some streamers, maybe some lights or minor electronics and candy. As a 10 year old, this was the closest I would come to having my own Snoopy.
I honestly don’t know why my dad did this. I know he did it because he loves a creative project. I know you’re thinking he did it because he loves his kids and that’s true too. But these floats were a lot of work. (I’d like to mention here that there were certain competitive float makers who would trot out the same float year after year and just hand out better candy. These people were despicable. Especially when they won.) He would design, build, cut, paint, prep and install every part of the floats and he would start from scratch every year. Looking at the insane pace of my childless life now, I can’t even believe that he did this every single summer for nearly 10 years. Whether or not my dad realized it, these floats did more than provide summer entertainment for my brother and me. The fact that my dad built these elaborate floats year after year, with incredible detail and creative tenacity made a little girl believe she could tackle any creative endeavor.
I’m grateful these incredible expressions on wheels were part of my childhood. And not just because it makes a great story when I meet someone for the first time. No, those elaborate designs made me creatively fearless. That’s quite the gift.
Happy Father’s Day, Rico Giorgi.
