Time for a Parade

The Budweiser Clydesdale horses have arrived at the fairgrounds and so the rumor on the street must be true: it’s Bicentennial Time in Ashland, Ohio! It’s been a real community effort so far in the planning, the publicizing , and the plugging away at the details, and now we’re ready to party. If you can believe it, there’s even been a sighting of the sun, so hopefully she won’t be a stranger to the festivities of the weekend.

Two hundred years. What do we know of our communal story? Who were the first settlers who decided to stake their claim for the future on this particular soil? David Carter built the first cabin here in 1811 or 1812, while the next inhabitant, William Montgomery platted forty lots and registered the new town in Columbus in 1815. But early development was slow, as six years later, only fifteen families had settled in what Montgomery was calling Uniontown.  Without a post office of its own, newcomer Francis Graham doubted the tiny settlement would grow, so he petitioned for that designation. With two other Uniontowns already in existence, the name Ashland was claimed, and the rest was – and is – history.

I’m a smitten immigrant to Ashland, not a native, and as such, my family roots weren’t planted in Ohio soil. My ancestors didn’t rub shoulders with John Chapman (Johnny Appleseed), nor did they stand shoulder to shoulder to sing of God’s grace in Hopewell, the village’s first church (and they also didn’t leave the church in a dispute over how hymns should be sung). They didn’t shop at The Home Co., opened in 1910, supposedly as a way to discourage the wives of local business leaders from traveling out of town to do their shopping. I have no family monument in Ashland Cemetery, and my great-grandmother wasn’t one of the ninety-two Ashland women who marched for temperance in 1874.

Yet native-born or not, I am now an Ashlander. All who live in Ashland are an integral part of our community and of our shared history. As an Ashlander, my fledgling roots are digging deeper in the soil of “the Kroc,” in our neighborhood on Walnut Street, and on the pages of the Times-Gazette. And as my roots entwine with those of my neighbors, they grow healthy and strong.

We bring the strength of our combined roots to our churches, our classrooms, our teams, our civic groups, and our music ensembles. Together we find joy in brightly colored balloons and walk-in movies. We take pride in our beards and our gardens. We walk with each other through valleys of the shadow of death. We are overwhelmed at the gift of new life. We anticipate with delight the taste of the first tomato from the vine, the first notes of the 1812 Overture at the Bandshell, and the burst of the fireworks on Independence Day.

There is power in our interwoven roots and in our shared heritage as we commemorate Ashland’s two-hundred year anniversary. Last Friday, hundreds of Ashland residents gathered at Corner Park for United Way’s Fun, Fabulous Friday, one of the kick-off events for the Bicentennial. The inimitable Ev DeVaul directed us to lift a decorated cupcakes in the air and sing Happy Birthday to Ashland. The pretended veneer of the big city girl in me that sneaks out from time to time dared to mouth the word “corny” as I held up my own cupcake, but her feeble call to sophistication was drowned out as Neil Ebert struck up the band and tears clouded my vision.

In an oft- troubled world, there is a simple goodness in cupcakes, parades, patriotic music and fireworks. There is a simple goodness in neighbors, family, and faith. There is a simple goodness in remembering what is past and in dreaming of what can be in the future of our community. And we’re only just getting started. That’s why the iconic words from Chicago keep buzzing through my head: ‘I’ve been waiting such a long time . . . a real celebration waiting for us all . . . You’d think it was the fourth of July.” Happy birthday, Ashland. It’s time for a parade!