I love Palm Sunday. It's that wonderful day when we march boldly into town waving our palm branches and loving the parade. Yes, yes, I admit. It's probably the parade I like as much as what we're shouting about as the donkey saunters by. But I do. I love Palm Sunday. And did I say, I love parades, too?

I remember as a kid going with my mom every year to the Memorial Day parade in the small upstate New York town where we lived. It was exactly what you might imagine it to be. The high school band marched proudly, along with the veterans and the fire trucks and the mayor riding in a convertible he borrowed from the local dealership. The Girl Scouts, Boy Scouts, 4-H, and on it went. The fife and drum corps and the local National Guard unit was also present, usually with some impressive milita…