As I rolled out of bed Saturday morning December 2, I envisioned Barbara Streisand clutching a bouquet of yellow roses and standing on the bridge of a tugboat in New York Harbor belting out — “Nooobody but nooobody is gonna rain on my parade.” I threw open the sash, and was disappointed to see torrential rain pelting my windows. “Knowing Benicia they won’t cancel the parade,” I thought. Pulled on a pair of warm pants and a parka, grabbed my Frida Kahlo umbrella, and headed out the front door. Using Frida as a shield from the wind and rain, and jumping over overflowing gutters, I detoured around a newly formed lake blocking a significant portion of E. B St. It occurred to me that I hadn’t sprayed water repellant on my new suede boots like I used to do when we had normal rainfall. Several police cars were parked on the corner of First St. behind bright orange barriers.
I hurried up to D St. surprised to see the sidewalks empty except for small groups of families taking shelter under the Washington House balcony. I soldiered on and found a dry spot under the Union Hotel canopy as the rain pounded the canvas. Finally, just a bit past 10 am, one of Benicia’s finest activated his siren signaling the start of the parade. Benicia Fire Department’s two hook and ladders rounded the corner creating a wake behind them, the firefighters no doubt giving thanks for a fairly benevolent fire season. Next came the Medics who recently saved the life of one of my neighbors. I had to look hard to pick out Santa who was riding in a golf cart with no windows, the rain pelting his beard and red velvet suit. If he wasn’t feeling jolly, he didn’t show it. Rudolph didn’t make the trip but two Bernese Mountain dogs put in an appearance —one pulling a dainty wooden carriage meant to be carrying little kids who probably were still in bed. They were real troopers and forged ahead, their drenched hair hanging limply under too small rain jackets. The Girl Scout troop marched bravely in their matching purple sweaters, bright red boots, and slickers followed by parents struggling to keep their umbrellas from turning inside out. The John Deere driver, devoid of rain gear, put his tractor in gear and rolled on, adding some color —green with big yellow hub caps —to an otherwise monochromatic scene.
Bay Area Bounty Hunters wore his/her favorite Galactic costume — Mandalorians, stormtroopers, and Darth Vaders looking intimidating in their helmets and body gear which was impervious to the elements. The always game Benicia High School Band was the final entrant, musicians, flag twirlers, and even the furry Panther himself wearing transparent hooded ponchos over their dress uniforms. Tubas ompahed spurting water like whales and drummers drummed, black plastic garbage bags protecting their instruments. Band members went the extra mile stopping at each intersection to perform short drill team exercises. They turned the corner onto H St. and the music faded and they disappeared in the downpour. And just like that it was over. Within minutes the Street was empty.
Where was the Holiday Market? Not a booth in sight until I saw one lone tent, whipped about by the wind, barely standing on the slick blacktop where dozens of vendors should have been. Michael and Ellen Wray huddled inside waiting for the rain to subside so they could load their truck and go home. Owners of Earthly Originals, Crystals, Minerals, Rocks and Fossils, they arrived from Fairfield at 8:30 am. Eileen called the night before and was assured that the market would go on “rain or shine.” So they loaded up their truck planning to make a day of it, and were all set up when the market was cancelled. I felt sympathy for all of those vendors and paraders who had spent time preparing and anticipating the day. But no one could argue that the rain wasn’t a blessing for our drought parched state.
Walking home, soaked to the bone, I mentally listed songs I knew that had “rain” in their titles — Gene Kelly “Singin’ in the Rain,” splashing through puddles and swinging on lamp posts, Butch Cassidy riding a bicycle with Katherine Ross on the handlebars to the tune of “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head,” and “It’s Raining Men” while high kicking in aerobics class. Then there’s “Purple Rain” and “Rain rain go away; come again another day” which is how I felt at that point, shuffling home after putting on five lbs in water weight — mostly in the feet and pants.
Thanks to our first responders and the children and teens of Benicia, the show did go on. The future is in good hands — come rain or come shine.
Sarah Beserra is an artist, collector, Dharma practitioner and retired lobbyist.
Letters From Benicia 