Floats, and bands and Santa, oh my! Once again it’s time for the traditional Ashland Christmas Parade and once again I’m taken back to a time when an unknown screaming blue ’57 Chevy made the parade lineup.

I always loved the Ashland Parade as a kid. My brother and I would watch mesmerized, waiting in anticipation of Santa, which was always the last thing in the parade. Sorta reminds of the scene in the movie “The Christmas Story.”

As I got older and was actually able to be in the parade, I never imagined that one year I would not only be in it once but twice.

The year was 1968 and I had just returned to the park after marching with the Paul Blazer High School band. It was the first year I was in the band without my older brother and I thought I was pretty hot stuff.

I had just finished marching the route with the band, hitting about every other note of “Jingle Bells” on the saxophone on that bitter cold night and was anxious to get home, shuck out of my uniform and warm up.

As I attempted to turn out of the park in my big brother’s on-loan-only car — the Blue Bomber, as it was fondly called — the kindly police officer informed me that I had to keep going. But, I explained, I need to turn left not right. I then found myself re-entering the parade from which I had just completed wedged between a float in front of me and a band behind me.

Now, as all of you remember, parades take a while from start to finish and I sure didn’t want to do it again.

As the officer and parade officials motioned me to keep going, I found myself leaving Central Park and aiming toward Winchester Avenue. I don’t remember exactly what street but I knew it was not where I needed to be. As the downtown area loomed closer and closer, I thought, ‘Oh no, how am I going to get myself and my brother’s car home with nobody finding out?’ I wasn’t nearly as worried about getting in trouble with the police, or what a ribbing I would take from my friends, as I was having my mother seeing me in this car in the parade.

You see, she worked at the Smart Shop downtown and I knew she would be standing outside along with all the other merchants to see the parade.

Maybe, I thought, after she saw the band go by she would return to the store and I would be off the hook.

As I wound slowly through downtown going the speed of 10 miles an hour or less, I started praying really hard that I could pull this off.

As the crowd became larger and the snow began falling harder, I realized I could really have some fun with this and maybe not get caught by my mother at the same time. So I decided I would work the crowd and act like I really was part of the parade. I rolled down my window, stuck my arm out and waved and shouted at the people. They must have thought I was someone important, because some started waving back and others shouted out “Who’s that?” I just kept going, smiling and waving and acting like I was supposed to be there.

That is until the dreaded corner of 15th Street and Winchester Avenue came into sight. Oh no. There my mother stood with her co-workers shivering in the night air waving and laughing until she spotted me.

To say she was surprised was an understatement. I tried to duck down, turn my head and act as inconspicuous as possible. But face it, how many hideous blue ’57 Chevy’s driven by someone wearing a band uniform could there be? Her look of sheer joy to utter surprise and then a slow simmer of anger was priceless.

Did I get in trouble when I got home? You bet! Was it worth it? You bet!!! My friends were envious, my brother was proud his car made the parade, and my mother, well ... let’s just say that memorable night has made a great story around our Thanksgiving table — the day the Blue Bomber and a shy teenager in a Blazer band uniform crashed the Ashland Christmas Parade!

TAWNYA STAPLETON can be reached at tstapleton@dailyindependent.com or (606) 326-2663.