Invasion of the Mummers

New Years Day and I raise the shades in my living room to reveal the climate of the city.  Never know what you’ll see; rain, snow, pigeon crap, somebody’s nose imprint, conception in Room 2075 at the W hotel.  But I found myself looking smack dab into the middle of America’s most famous Mummer’s Day Parade.  I had a better view than the reviewing stand at City Hall, yet I was completely in the dark as to what a mummer was.  

So what are they?  At first glance it’s a bunch of older men (mostly white underneath stage makeup) wearing feathers, bells, loud stripes and plaids with some sort of musical instrument … could be a kazoo or a banjo.  But that’s not all.  Mum is NOT the word for their high stepp’n struts, chair routines and garish costuming.  I didn’t see anyone resembling a wife on the reviewing stand or even in the crowd.  Rough estimate says only about 20% of the crowd was even female.  So I reckoned it’s some sort of annual gay pageant thing they do.  Now the winds were mighty January 1 so they had to cancel the talent portion.  You see it’s a contest with several divisions judged under what I’m guessing is a rather vague criteria.  They get prizes. Mind you, the average age of a mummer is sixty five and up, so they have Medicare but likely without dental coverage.  Teeth are few and far between.  Hence the stiff competition in the kazoo contest.  

Once the trophies were handed out at reviewing stand, here’s how it all came down.

Mummers parade results:  

Fancy and Wench Brigade winners were announced,

yet the string band competition was cancelled due to high winds.  

Bummer for the string mummers.  They left with their feathered head dress and furry tails flapping and proceeded to a slew of nearby bars.  Yes the mummers invaded Philadelphia New Year’s Day much as they have for a couple of hundred years, leaving a trail of feathers and beads everywhere.  The expressions of joy rung through my neighborhood past midnight.  The parade started at 9:00 AM.  Saint Patrick’s Day is a junior league event compared to the Mummer’s Day Parade.

The next morning, my dog and I dodged the remnants.  Broken beer bottles, half chewed cigars, vomit, a feather stuck in a pile of poo.  One mummer passed out by the ATM with cash in his fist.  My goodness.

As they say, ya can’t take it with you … or can you?  Just ask a mummer.  Then you may ask what their mission is.  Short conversation.  Basically nothing.