Last week I wrote about taking part in a quintessential American experience — attending a big-time college football game. Last night I witnessed another event which I feel also helps to define our American identity, though on a much smaller scale. It was the Homecoming football game for our Rogue River High School, and though attendees numbered in the hundreds instead of the tens of thousands as at the OSU game, you can be sure that their pride in and enthusiasm for their team was no less than that of the Beavers’ fans. I would imagine that the vast majority of GT readers who attended a U.S. high school have memories of their own homecoming festivities. They no doubt vary depending on the size of the school and when and where you attended. Both my husband and I attended large suburban high schools in the late ’60s and early ’70s, and the game was the focus and highlight of a week that included pep assemblies and spirit competitions between grade levels, but there were no parades or floats. It wasn’t until we moved to Southern Idaho for Harry’s first administrative job at a small, rural high school that we saw how an entire community got caught up in the excitement of homecoming. Well before homecoming week arrived, each class (numbering perhaps 80 kids each) spent time plotting the construction of its float. In the days leading up to Friday, every afternoon was spent at a secret location (someone’s family barn or shop) decking out the flatbed truck or trailer donated for the event by someone else’s willing relative. Guided by that year’s theme, limited only by their imaginations and materials readily available, and fueled by the desire to create the winning float, the students put a lot of time and effort into constructing rather elaborate entries. The excitement level would reach a fever pitch by Friday, and you can be sure that very little studying was done that morning. Shortly after noon, seemingly the whole town turned out to view the homecoming parade trailing down the main drag, complete with antique cars, the band, a firetruck and a few patrol cars and, the highlight, the class floats carrying their royalty. Later that night the king and queen would be announced at halftime, and the stands would be packed with students, alums, boosters and family members hoping for a win from the team.  Many years later, we once again find ourselves in a small town where community pride, activities and interest center on the local schools. With the football team having lost only one game this season (after winning not a one last year), the student body and the town are experiencing a resurgence in pride and spirit not seen for some time. Shopkeepers and townsfolk lined the parade route yesterday afternoon, and the stands were full last night, despite a persistent light mist turning to heavy drizzle turning to light rain (we Oregonians have as many descriptions of precipitation as the Eskimos reputedly have for snow). Sadly, our Chieftains, perhaps thrown off by the first wet game of the year and certainly by the absence due to injury of their star player for much of the game, lost 41-3. Nevertheless, the crowd remained and cheered loudly for their boys throughout the night, led by the ever-sunny cheerleaders, and one of the senior-class princesses along with her escort, were crowned this year’s Homecoming Queen and King. Despite the damp weather and the disappointing final score, I was left with a warm sense of community and an appreciation for the ability to take part in such a unique and special American experience. “Homecoming” seems to be truly the most appropriate word for it. — Patty Vanikiotis, proofreader