July Fourth was just around the corner, so I asked Trish and Meredith if they would tap-dance with me in the local parade. As we clacked along the parade route, I wanted us to carry a banner for the Dixie Scots, which is a jazz band made of up parents whose kids are in our high school band. The parents help promote the kids, and they aptly demonstrate that you never really outgrow your inner tuba. Our town throws a great parade each year. Before we had the Dixie Scots, we had the Dixie Chicks, so we get up a good show. Meredith begged off on my idea, claiming she had the bird flu, but Trish said she would do it if we could use Rollerblades. Blades, skates, skateboards, scooters, I don’t care, I just want to be in the show. The parade can quite literally pass you by if you don’t jump at these chances. My motto is, lift your heart, bang your drum and kick up your heels if there’s an opportunity. Weave the crepe paper through your bicycle spokes. Get a big hat. Dig up a kazoo. The Dixie Scots won’t take me on the float because my ukulele doesn’t exactly fit with their style, and my only other instrument is the maracas, but if I have my way, I will be marching on July Fourth, in front of or behind the elder Scotsmen. If you love it, get in it. With everything you’ve got, make a joyful noise.