Way back in 1994, my mom and I drove down to Pasadena with some friends of hers and a package of tortillas to see the 16th semi-annual Doo-Dah Parade. I had never been nor heard of it before, nor have I heard about it since. I actually have very vague, and only highly autobiographical, memories of the day.

I remember riding in the third row of my mom’s friend Grace’s minivan. She had a Dodge Caravan that was almost identical to my mom’s, except it was the base model. The first time I ever rode in it, I was fascinated by all of the differences. I didn’t know that you could buy cars with different accessories and appointments. I knew they came in different colors, but I didn’t know, for instance, that they didn’t all come with a rear A/C.

So, while I was geeking out in the back of Grace’s van, pointing out all of the differences between her van and my mom’s, Grace was in the front seat, taking deep offense. She snapped at me and said that she didn’t have as much money as my mom, so she couldn’t afford the fancier model. I have a similar story about pretty much every adult my parents knew when I was growing up. I didn’t mean anything; I was just being vocal about my curiosity.

After that, I had a grudge toward Grace that I maintained until the day she died – and beyond if I’m honest – so I wasn’t happy to have to be riding in the back of her van again. I sat in the third row, headphones on, listening to There Goes Rhymin’ Simon. I would spend the next several years looking for that tape. I left it in the back of Grace’s van without noticing. I looked everywhere for it, but couldn’t figure out what had happened to it. Then, some years later, I was back in the third row and to my great surprise, my tape was still there! Why was it still there? Didn’t that bitch ever clean out her car? Evidently not. Lucky for me.

My most enduring memory of the 16th, semi-annual Doo-Dah Parade, however, is more tangible. It is the official Doo-Dah Parade t-shirt I bought to commemorate the day. Earlier that summer, my friend Jeff went to visit family in Canada and returned with a shirt from The Wing Ding Festival.

I don’t remember exactly how it started, but we wore those shirts every Friday for the rest of the school year. I imagine it probably started when we showed up to school on two or more consecutive Fridays wearing our shirts, and then we made a plan to wear them every Friday.

I wore that shirt until it became a rag, and then I cut out the logo. I never really had any plans for it, but I thought someday I might do something with it. Well, that happens to be today. I snapped a picture of it to use as a template, so I can make a new Doo-Dah Parade t-shirt. Exciting stuff, I know.