Wes’ Ginormous Birthday Parade
Leading up to Wes’ fourth birthday I felt an increasing sorrow, that after so many long months of treatment, after such a rough winter, that this time – the first time he’s actually looked forward to a birthday – we would have to disappoint him. Living in quarantine, with all the anxiety and uncertainty of COVID-19, on top of the basic anxieties of leukemia, means no parties, no play dates, hardly any contact with his friends – or any people his age – for months now.
So it was that we started talking one night recently about what to do for his birthday. Could we have a picnic maybe? Would social distancing work with his friends? Are we over-protecting him, hurting him more than necessary for no benefit? And then the idea of a drive-by party – a parade, of sorts – came up. We latched on, quickly. Stephanie texted her “mom gang” – that cadre of amazingly smart, strong, supportive local women she’s fallen in league with – and in short order one of them had secured commitment from the fire department to help, and the others offered to help in every way possible.
The idea began to grow. We started to spread the word, as did everyone else. The closer we got to today, the bigger this thing became. What started as hope for a single firetruck became a question of just how many departments are showing up, and the idea of a few friends driving by morphed into what seemed like half the town, and the next town, and those up and down the river, RSVP’ing – friends and perfect strangers alike, as well as people from around the region.
Last night, after we put the kids to bed, the gang arrived and decorated the front of our house. Balloons, streamers, signs, and more than a few drinks set the stage for things to come. We woke up early and took Wes outside for a preview.
Anya and Kristin posing with their handiwork 
We spent the day prepping – making sure Ruth had time for naps, charging cameras and drone batteries, figuring out how to livestream. As the afternoon drew near, Stephanie took the kids for a drive maybe a nap while I stayed behind for final preparations. Several journalists arrived early and we chatted a bit. I did a test flight with the drone to figure out framing, and then I started getting messages from Anya and others at the rally point – the high school parking lot – where people were supposed to meet. Even before the appointed rally time there were way more people there than expected, and the numbers kept growing.
When Stephanie got home it was getting close to parade time. Wes had fallen asleep in the car, and when he awoke he was cranky and had a sore neck from the way he had slept, so he wasn’t too happy to get dragged outside – he just wanted to curl up on the sofa, or maybe open a present he’d been looking forward to. I grabbed a big present from upstairs and used it to lure him outside, but he was still not ready to cooperate. We didn’t press it hard, but people were there wanting to take his picture, wanting to see the kid who all this comotion was for, and he wasn’t ready for them quite yet.
Finally, I got word that the huge line of cars – lead by a large collection of fire department vehicles – was heading our way. I launched the drone and set it on a preprogrammed path, circling our house. We started our livestreams on Facebook and Instagram – something neither of us had done before, but had promised for the many friends and relatives who live far away. And then the noise arrived. Huge firetrucks. Ambulances. A truck with an airboat on it from search-and-rescue. Honking, sirens, loud speakers wishing Wes a happy birthday. And cars, one after another, for what felt like hours, filled with friends, neighbors, and perfect strangers. Many were decorated with signs. Everyone cheering, many brought gifts, everything blowing Wesley’s mind, and ours. Tears mixed with joy for Wes, for what he’s been through and what’s brought him here.
The people who made this happen, we remain forever in your debt. You’ve embraced us continuously since we’ve been here, but today was more than we ever could expect. Our dear friends Anya, Mary, Kristin, and Sarah made magic happen for Wes. Mayor Larry, the New Hope police and fire departments, thank you for everything – for helping, for showing up and being a part of this, and also for letting this insanity happen.
