Finding Home at Ashland’s Festival of Light

This was our second year attending Ashland’s Festival of Light Parade and Grand Illumination. Last year, we were so new in town that we took it all in – the parade, Santa, the crowds, the artisans, the lights – with the wide-eyed wonder of kids stepping through the wardrobe. Parts of Ashland felt comfortingly familiar, almost like my east Portland home ground, with crystal window ornaments and electric Subarus as far as the eye could see. In other ways, it felt like a foreign country – a place where we were still just visitors.

This year is different. This year, Ashland is beginning to feel like our town. Like home.

The Festival kicks off on the day after Thanksgiving, with a short but joyfully exuberant lighted parade. According Ashland News, an estimated 15,000 people were in attendance this year. We’ve learned that folks in this town will use absolutely any excuse to wear a costume (I am here for it!), and parade watchers dressed for the occasion in Santa hats, candy cane stockings, and an assortment of festive frocks. Kids pedaled by on lighted bicycles, local performers danced and twirled, the high school band played seasonal favorites, and the guest of honor brought up the rear in a stunning candy-red sleigh.

The parade ended in front of the Brickroom – a downtown eatery – and Mr and Mrs Clause disembarked from their sleigh. Together with Rudolph, they ascended the stairs to a balcony overlooking the crowd, and Santa flipped the switch, illuminating the Plaza with over a million twinkling lights. It was magical. And then, those thousands of people came together, and – like the Whos down in Whoville – we all sang Jingle Bells in unison.

I don’t know if every single person was singing, but it didn’t matter. The sound rose up around us – so many voices, warm and hopeful, blending in the chilled November air. Standing there in the square, adding my own voice to the chorus, I felt the most extraordinary sense of community. A moment where joy felt contagious. A moment that seem to whisper, You belong here.