A Bandwagon
The wagon rocked its unhurried way through the city on a chilly Saturday afternoon. People clambered joyously aboard, drawn to the companionable warmth, the spirited music, the alluring assurance of numbers. As the juggernaut swayed down the boulevard, the passengers called out to pedestrians to join them and many did, some laughing as they barely hung on, hugged by welcoming arms. Those who declined were inveigled, then mocked, spurned, pointed at. “Fogeys!” the young called them while the older and more committed cried “Enemies!” Some really were one or the other, but a few shook their heads, pointed, tried to warn. “Look where you’re going!” Yet the bass drums and trombones were banging out Sousa and the mob was broadcasting its righteous unanimity so loudly that nobody heard.
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