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One of the hardest things to do when you're a planner is to let go, even for a second, of your planner mentality and just enjoy the moment. So much time is spent tracking what we've done and what we need to do that it's often hard to focus on what we're doing at a specific moment in time. Planning is second nature to some of us, and stopping 'to smell the roses' is difficult. We decided to make a concerted effort to enjoy parts of our Centennial celebration, even while we were immersed in the activities. So Jessica, the invaluable special events assistant who has kept me relatively sane for the last few months, made a laminated badge to go with our event credentials. That badge said simply "In The Moment."

When I was enjoying something in particular, something that had been a dream for months or even years and was finally coming to pass – like the landing of Rex Oregonus at Waterfront Park on the first day of the festival – I could turn my credentials around and reveal to the world that I was "In the Moment." Even our Oregonian reporter told me he'd leave me alone when he saw me that sunny day at Salmon Springs wearing my badge and grinning like a fool.

We all had the chance to be in the moment during this year's Rose Festival, although some may not have gotten to share it so publicly. It was such a treat, for instance, to see actual tears in the eyes of our Centennial Exposition chairman, Sue Bunday, as we stood and listened to the One More Time Around Again Marching Band doing their special 'Sentimental Journey' concert at that event. She probably didn't intend to share her moment, but I was glad to witness it.

The week leading to this year's Grand Floral Parade was a particularly difficult one for me as an event planner. We had never before attempted so many details, so many entries, so many participants and so many challenges. By Wednesday my carefully stacked patience was starting to totter. I felt like a character in one of my favorite old sci fi films, 'When Worlds Collide,' where the date and time of the end of the world is known, and a hand-picked team is scurrying to build a rocket ship to escape. Some guy with a microphone has the job to keep everyone on schedule by constantly reminding them of what needs to be done and that they're falling behind. "Hurry, hurry!" he resorts to announcing.

At our office that guy would be toast.

Probably the toughest thing I faced this year was the criticism about the military presence in this year's parade. By Wednesday a couple of action groups had targeted the festival and its sponsors, copying the media and City Council. As a child of the 60s, I thought it was ridiculous to have to defend the appearance of our fantastic WWII hellcat tank -- the first appearance of a tank in the parade since 1941 and one of the many highlights of our Greatest Generation section – especially since it would be decorated with flowers coming out of the cannon. The unabashed patriotism of this section of the parade was never intended to be any sort of a political statement, although I was personally accused of being part of the propaganda machine for the war in Iraq.

I have very wide shoulders as an event planner. Bring it on, I can take it! But I admit to a couple of shaky moments as things kept coming out of every field, even the left (thanks, Commissioner Leonard). Still, we made it to Thursday, and at Coronation rehearsal it struck me that the ballad being performed was a number called 'One Moment in Time,' a song I nearly vetoed. That night I got a call on my cell phone on my way out of the lobby of the Hollywood Theatre, where we had just witnessed the triumphant premiere of our motion picture, 'From One Rose.' It was the first of dozens of calls I would get over the course of the next 24 hours from the U.S. Navy Leapfrogs.

We wanted to have the Leapfrogs do a jump into the beginning of the parade, but we didn't realize they wouldn't be able to use our site because of federal restrictions on how close they can get to the crowd. So the suggestion on Friday morning that they might be able to jump on the roof of the Memorial Coliseum seemed like a long shot. The Coliseum is an old, albeit beloved, building, and the access to and from the roof is limited and tricky.

Here's a cyber hug for Howard Zuckerman of the Global Spectrum staff who was acting as our event manager that day! He managed to get his folks to drop whatever they were doing and respond when the request (demand?) came from the ten SEALs who were doing the site check to get us on the roof. And I do mean 'us' – there was no way Jessica was going to let me miss my once-in-a-lifetime chance to stand on top of the Coliseum, even if it meant riding a tiny elevator that only two people can stand up in, crossing a catwalk and climbing two ladders, all in my platform sandals. Thank goodness one of those stalwart SEALs was willing to lift me bodily from the hatch where I hung peeking out, terrified after making the climb.

The walls of that little elevator are covered with signatures and messages. One of those is "Jessica and Marilyn were In The Moment, June 8, 2007."

And finally, the day of our grandest of parades . . and long before noon the rain came pouring down.

It rained on our parade.

It rained and rained and rained.

And still the parade went on -- and it truly was the best we've put on the street in my 20-year career as the parade manager. Yes, people got wet, both the participants and the spectators (not to mention the behind-the-scenes workers). Yes the photos they'll see years from now of our Centennial parade will have umbrellas in every shot (and, yes, I worry about that kind of thing).

But I like to think we made special memories for hundreds of folks, both riding and watching the parade. Someday they'll talk about how wet they got and how much they didn't care when they share their favorite parade moments with friends and family – or even at our story blog. Today when I looked through the photo cds from our Rose Festival photographers of the parade spectators and participants, I imagined all of them wearing badges.

You already know what those badges read, don't you?