Just A Gal From Glidden: I accidentally joined the parade

By Kate Winquist

Goose Festival Weekend.

It has been a tradition in Kindersley for 54 years, and this year’s event was moved ahead by one week. I’ll admit, I was one of the naysayers who wondered if the weather might be a factor.

Boy, was I wrong.

Kevin Martin, Executive Director of the Kindersley Chamber of Commerce, must be in Mother Nature’s good books because we could not have asked for a more perfect few days in our west central community.

This was my sixth Goose Festival since moving back in 2020, and I swear it gets bigger and better every year.

I’d like to think maybe I can take a little bit of credit for that now that our newspaper reaches such a wide region. More bang for your advertising buck!

Okay, probably not.

Whatever the reason, there is something pretty special about seeing that many smiling faces. People getting outside, spending time with their families, visiting with neighbours and friends and, for a few hours anyway, forgetting about some of the craziness going on in the world.

SORE FEET, NEW PLAN: I was caught roaming the Goose Festival parade route with my trusty, very heavy camera before deciding my sore feet had earned me a spot in the parade. If anyone got a shot of that, send it my way. PHOTO BY D’SHAE BUSSIERE

I remember participating in the Goose Festival parade back in the day, probably when I was still in elementary school. I rode on the back of a flatbed trailer playing trumpet — and later clarinet after I got braces.

We didn't have to walk the parade route. We got a ride!

Now the kids walk the entire route while playing their instruments and doing fancy footwork at the same time. And I’m pretty sure they sound much, much better than we ever did.

This Goose Festival was a busy one for me. Between the schools’ Terry Fox Walk, the senior girls volleyball tournament, the Kindersley Klippers home opener and everything happening around town, I had already put a lot of miles on my feet.

And I will admit it: older, overweight me isn’t quite as agile as she used to be.

By Saturday morning, my feet hurt.

I was working on our advertising “dummies” at the office and told Robert I was just going to grab my usual spot down the corner, take a few parade photos and call it good.

That was the plan.

Then I looked out my office window.

There was a steady stream of people walking by carrying lawn chairs. Cars were coming down the alley. Everyone was heading out to find their spot along the parade route.

So I grabbed my camera and headed out the door.

By the time I walked the few feet to the corner, the adrenaline had kicked in.

There was absolutely no way I was going to stand in one spot and let the world pass me by.

Something comes over me on weekends like this. It happens every year.

I want to capture it.

Not just the floats and the marching bands, but the people watching them. The little kids waving. The grandparents smiling. Friends visiting on the sidewalk. The moments happening off to the side that nobody else notices.

Those candid photos are my absolute favourite. Nobody posing. Nobody worrying about how they look. Just people being people.

So off I went.

At one point I stopped to visit with a friend and asked her why the hell I wasn’t skinny with all the miles I put on walking around town carrying that beast of a camera.

She laughed.

Then we both looked across the street at the Beavertail truck.

Well.

Mystery solved.

But I digress.

I kept motoring around, eventually making my way back toward Railway Avenue when a thought crossed my mind.

I could join the parade.

I’d pretty much photographed the whole thing already. My feet hurt. And my car was sitting right there.

More importantly, my car is essentially a driving billboard.

This was starting to sound less like laziness and more like a brilliant marketing strategy.

So I headed back to the office, jumped in my car and proceeded to plunk myself into the parade right behind the museum’s old-time tractors.

It seemed fitting enough.

Some days I’m starting to feel like an old relic myself.

There had been absolutely no preparation for my grand Goose Festival parade debut. My car hadn’t been washed and was covered in dust. I didn’t have decorations. I didn’t even have a balloon to tie to the antenna.

But screw it.

I was tired.

It was free advertising.

And for the first time all day, I was actually going to get to see the rest of the parade route.

So away I went.

And you know what? It felt pretty darn good.

People waved.

“Hey, Kate!”

And then I heard:

“There’s the Gal from Glidden!”

I waved back, laughed and kept driving.

I even had my camera sitting beside me, so every once in a while I’d grab a photo out the window.

Professional journalism at its finest.

By the time I reached the end of the route, I was already thinking ahead.

I really think I’m onto something for next year.

Maybe I’ll make it official. Maybe I’ll decorate the car. Maybe I’ll even buy some candy to hand out.

But one thing is certain.

I’m washing the damn car first.