I always look for boy scouts in a parade like this. I recall being in a parade in Mt. Clemens, my hometown. Our troop didn't register in time to march, but our scoutmaster made arrangements for us to march with a troop that did. We didn't mind. I shined my shoes and my mother pressed my uniform. I loved it. It's probably one of the reasons I enjoy these parades so much now. It's real home town stuff.
Three cheers for Troop 944.