"Come on, get the kids out. We're having our own parade." Mr. Florentino was calling through the open front door of 17 Belleview Avenue. He was gathering Glyndon's children at O'Meara's field. Glyndon didn't have a parade. No one knew why, unless because it was such a small town.
    That didn't bother Fran Florentino. He thought the Glyndonians should have a parade, and the best part of his idea was that the parade should be kids.