Guest Essay | Kathleen Clary Miller: My Doo Dah To-Do List

Oh, were I to still reside in Pasadena, I would chair the committee of “mature women,” the moniker we prefer to “Little Old Ladies from Pasadena,” to introduce an essential entry to the Do-Dah Parade of 2024.

Since we were the small children of the 1950’s and early 1960’s, we would first slather onto any bare skin a barrier of Sea & Ski sans SPF as a testimonial to all the local dermatologists we now see regularly for MOHS surgery.

TV rabbit-ear antennas would adorn our crowns. If angled just right (trust me, it was tricky) they allowed our viewing of “I Love Lucy,” “Bonanza” and “The Wonderful World of Disney.”  Clad in full skirts and petticoats, the feet that long ago skipped down sidewalks in old school cherry-red Keds that featured no support whatsoever, now might be crippled along with our aching knees and falling arches, but nonetheless we would persevere to the parade’s finish line.

To mark this year’s heady Centennial of the birthplace of the cheeseburger at The Rite Spot on Colorado Blvd and Avenue 64, clamped to one extended arm of the parade participants would be the car-hop window tray complete with serving of plastic cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate milkshake reminiscent of either Henry’s or Twohey’s –the go-to dinner destinations when our mothers didn’t feel up to assembling another tuna casserole.

We’d incorporate a marching line dressed à la the inside cover of a Pasadena library book, complete with manila pocket housing the check-out card stamped with countless due dates from the inkpad of the librarian who meant business.

Dangling from our right-hand fingers?  None other than that iconic brown paper sack with the word “Vroman’s” scripted in pink. And from our left hands, alternating between odd and even rows, the handy-dandy transistor radio that dialed in KRLA or the rotary telephone that was always busy, both of which were indispensable accessories for any girl over the age of eight.

Confetti in the form of S&H Green Stamps would be wildly tossed willy-nilly into the cheering crowd, and we might even cast and incorporate a row of elderly Fuller Brush men, depending on the caliber of their audition performance (BYO briefcase loaded with a wide assortment of household miracles.)

Free Pez dispensers, Pixie Stix, and Lick-em Aid  (a quick “Thank you” for the gold crowns in every single one of my molars, Dr. Bendel) for the children lining the route! Although a few of us might have to break rank and spin off from formation in order to show them how to safely consume the candy while Hula-Hooping and simultaneously walking the dog with the once coveted special edition clear Duncan Imperial Yo-Yo.

The rose between our teeth would be our grateful nod to the days when crowds were much sparser, and we could nonchalantly stroll to and plop down on the Orange Grove curbing to take in the world-renowned January First parade as if it were any other small-town celebration.

Because back then, dear readers, when we little old ladies were merely little, our innocent eyes wide open to every new possibility, we were a small town—and I feel certain the Doo Dah Parade would grant us septuagenarians from the old days entry to honor the fact that as much as Pasadena has grown and flourished since then — Zippity doo-dah! — it still is one.

Kathleen Clary Miller is a native of Pasadena.  She is the author of essays and stories that have been published for 20 years in newspapers and magazines across the country.  Although she currently lives in Fallbrook, Pasadena will always be her home.