The Natchez Christmas parade was so big, the spectators could pick and choose the candy they wanted.

And they did.

I didn&8217;t see much of the parade, just the front of the truck pulling the float behind us, and Ronald McDonald in his car behind that, but I did see the spectators &8212; hundreds of them.

I rode on a flatbed trailer with two adults and about 10 kids from church. Every kid had a large bag of candy. Each bag contained, I&8217;m guessing, 100 pieces of candy.

Ten kids, 100 pieces and you&8217;ve got 1,000 pieces of candy flying from our float alone.

The parade had what&8217;s got to be a recent record of over 100 entries in it.

A hundred floats, 1,000 pieces of candy and you&8217;ve got 100,000 pieces of candy.

Maybe my estimates are off, but the look of the streets during the first few blocks of the parade leads me to believe my numbers are a good ballpark figure.

Our float was near the end of the long string of parade entries. So, we spent probably close to 45 minutes on Broadway waiting to move.

By the time we hit Canal, then Main, the streets were literally covered in candy. But our children had been sitting stationary on a float for too long, and their arms were more than ready to launch the candy they had. So they did.

Much of it fell to the ground untouched. The crowd had learned they could be picky. From what I could tell, chocolate was grabbed. Tootsie rolls passed the test. And lollipops and gum were worth bending over for.

Other things &8212; especially peppermints &8212; were left to sit on the pavement.

Quickly, the adults on our float started cautioning our children to conserve their candy for the end of the route, where there would be more people and less candy.

Most of our kids couldn&8217;t resist the urge to chunk what they had, but Allyson (who was firmly planted in my lap) listened.

As we eased past one group of boys, a 10- or 11-year old screamed out &8220;throw me some candy.&8221;

By this point my innate stinginess had rubbed off entirely on Allyson, so she just stared back at him.

Since our float had come to a complete halt, and the boy was standing only a foot away, I answered his request.

&8220;Just look down and pick it up,&8221; I said.

Confusion ran across his face first. Then he looked down at the near sea of candy around his feet, looked back up and replied, &8220;I don&8217;t want that kind.&8221;

Now, I&8217;ll save the commentary on ungrateful America for another time, and point out the good in this situation.

Too much candy is a good problem. Too many floats is a good problem.

Three months ago, it was a real possibility that there would be no Natchez Christmas parade. The longtime organizer, Downtown Development, decided not to coordinate the event.

About a week later, the tourism department stepped up to the plate and saved the day.

And when they decided to organize the parade, they decided to go all out. Word of mouth, letters, press releases &8212; tourism and parade organizers did everything they could to boost the number of entries and the number of attendees to this year&8217;s parade.

The flood of candy on Main Street was evidence of the parade&8217;s success.

Church groups, clubs, schools and scout troops lined up to create elaborate and simple floats.

And the result was the talk of the town all last week. Everyone remembers this parade as the longest they&8217;ve ever seen.

Tourism Director Walter Tipton and his team set the bar high this year. They likely won&8217;t &8212; and probably shouldn&8217;t &8212; lead the parade next year.

But that&8217;s OK, this town has proved it has Christmas spirit (even when it&8217;s 80 degrees), and we&8217;ve proved we love our parade.

The next organizer has a whole year to get ready.

So start planning.

Julie Finley

is the managing editor of The Natchez Democrat. She can be reached at 601-445-3551 or

julie.finley@natchezdemocrat.com

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