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Yay! No rain on our parade Cool, windy weather can't chill enthusiasm for Pear Blossom Photo by Bob Pennell Mike and Lisa Barnett of Central Point came prepared for the weather that greeted spectators at Saturday's Pear Blossom Festival Parade. No rain fell, but the wind was chilly. By VICKI GUARINO T he marching bands played. The beauty queens waved from floats and the seats of sports cars. Pistons popped on antique tractors. Towers of blue and white balloons drifted by, followed by twirling young girls in poodle skirts. Six draft horses in harness pulled a wagon for the Southern Oregon Draft and Harness Club. And more kids came by on floats, prancing stick horses, bicycles, hula hoops and in-line skates. Roaming the sidelines were rolling concessionaires, hawking trinkets from carts piled high with balloons, toys and cotton candy. What more could a parade watcher ask for? Better weather, perhaps. Wind blew petals from trees all along the parade route, keeping families hunkered down under quilts and coats. Some stepped back from the curb to the shelter of store-front doorways. Chilly winds aside, viewers praised Medford's Pear Blossom Parade on Saturday, asking only for more -- more of everything. "Everything was better this year," said Scott Hurst of Shady Cove, who watched with his son and daughter. "But they need more people throwing out candy, giving things away to the crowd. And more floats. It doesn't take that much to do a float. It doesn't have to be all flowers like the ones they have down in L.A." Hurst's son, Kelly, already is making plans to join his Cub Scout pack in next year's parade through downtown. The 7-year-old said he would march the route, or perhaps the pack will enter a float. Louise Horn, Central Point, was happy to see so many schools participating. She saw a lot of effort behind the student entries -- from well-rehearsed bands and flag teams to carefully decorated floats. "It wasn't just a bunch of kids walking," Horn said. The parade had down-home, casual appeal to Peter Ricks and Sil Chang, both of Central Point. They said they prefer the Pear Blossom to some of the fancier affairs they've seen. "It was great. It has that small-town attitude," said Ricks. "It's not so commercial. It's not glitzy like San Francisco." "I think it has everything," Chang said. "Everybody can come out." The Veterans Affairs Domiciliary came out in vintage military rigs announcing the residential center's military museum. Rogue Sanitary Service demonstrated an automated garbage truck. A family of clowns twirled by. Another group roared through astride dirt bikes -- including one wobbly 6-year-old with a long blond ponytail streaming from her helmet. Crater High School's championship wrestlers rolled by on a truck trailer, celebrating back-to-back state titles in 1998 and 1999. From the sidelines, Reid Stady, 10, tried to influence the course of the parade. With a chunk of chalk in hand, Reid darted into Central Avenue as gaps appeared in the paraded to scrawl his message in the pavement: "Throw candy here please," and "Candy needed," appeared in big pink and white letters, with arrows pointing to Reid's seat on the sidelines. Some marchers evidently took heed. "I've gotten a couple of pieces," Reid said. Nearby, 7-year-old Matthew Schmitt tucked three long paper cones into his hood around his face. The youngster didn't seem sure what the getup was all about, but it seemed to work well with the blue smear of cotton candy around his mouth. Kids find ways to do more than watch By SUSAN JAY Dark skies and a bitter, cold wind couldn't chill Tanner Harper's glee at Saturday's Pear Blossom parade. "Wahoo! Yippee! Yahoo!" 5-year-old Tanner screamed as he waved at the Jackson County Sheriff's Posse riding by on horseback. He watched the 46th annual parade from the corner of Fourth Street and Central Avenue with Launa Harper, his mom. She was his warmer-upper, when the wind made him run for cover in her arms. But seconds later the blond-haired boy would be up again, bouncing around, talking to other parade watchers and asking questions about the groups passing by. Other youngsters sat on the curb wrapped in blankets or bundled in winter jackets. They held balloons tightly in their hands, waved back at the parade people and scrambled madly into the street when candy was thrown. Tanner pointed as each group passed in front of him, but his finger was especially active as the vintage cars drove by. "I like the green one, and the dark ones too, and the one way down there," he said, aiming his finger at each one. "I like all the old fashions," he said with a big grin. An hour later and a few blocks farther north, Jarad and Josh Brown from Central Point reached their arms out to slap hands with a few of the Shriners whizzing by in their go-carts. A minute later, another group of Shriners zoomed in, this time on mini all-terrain vehicles. They sped around in unison, riding so close they looked like a swarm of bees swirling on the street. "Weehee! Hee ha! Whoa!" Jarad, 9, and Josh, 10, yelled as the men in the fez hats roared past. "Here they come again!" Jarad screamed. "That was neat!" Jarad said with boyish satisfaction. Further north, three second-graders from Grace Christian School were busy hatching a mischievous plan. "We're going to squirt our vice principal, Mr. Johnson," 7-year-old Petra Noble squealed. She and her accomplices, Jordyn Ivers, 8, and Ashley Hyde, 7, were armed with cans of Silly String. "We don't know if he's there," Petra said. But if he was, they said, he would be marching with the school band. They waited, then erupted in squeals and shrieks as they spotted the band approaching. They ran to the other side of the street, jumping in anticipation. "Shake it up real good," Jordyn kept telling her friends, pointing to their cans of string. The band neared. A tall, dark-haired man walked beside it. In unison, the girls piped out "Oh, Mr. Johnson," and then plastered him from head to toe with Silly String. "Oh no," Johnson said, grinning and batting at the string. The girls squirted another teacher and one of the students twirling a flag before they turned the cans on each other. Out of breath and flush with the success of their plan, Ashley said with total satisfaction, "Now, that was fun!" Mail Tribune Copyright � The Mail Tribune 1999, Medford, Oregon USA