News Photo by Julie Riddle Family members delighted in seeing their loved ones on Saturday as a drive and honk parade at MediLodge of Rogers City brought carloads of people to say a socially distant hello.

ROGERS CITY — “Hi, Mom,” the sign dangling from a car’s passenger window read.

Four rows deep, cars, trucks, and a few motorcycles paused in a parking lot near the long-term-care facility, their drivers waiting eagerly for a glimpse of loved ones.

Around the corner, 39 wheelchairs lined the edge of a semi-circle driveway, their straw-hatted, flag-holding, mask-wearing occupants peering toward the road.

Early Saturday afternoon, family and community members eased past the residents of MediLodge of Rogers City in a Memorial Day weekend honk-and-wave parade, organized by the facility’s staff to honor their residents.

“Here they come!” said one of the 20-some employees wearing long-sleeve shirts emblazoned with “I am essential” on the front, bending near a resident’s ear and pointing. “Do you see the lights? They’re all here for you!”

Children bring a smile to MediLodge of Rogers City residents at a drive and honk parade on Saturday.

At the front of the procession, young women in sashes and tiaras waved from convertibles.

“I love your hats, ladies,” one young pageant queen called sweetly. “You’re all so beautiful.”

From slow-moving car windows, drivers and passengers scanned the line of wheelchairs, trying to spy loved ones not seen in months, except through a window pane or digital screen.

“Where’s Lucy?” one asked a worker — then, with a grin and an energetic wave to a small woman wrapped in a blanket, “That’s my mom!”

Beside one wheelchair, a woman in scrubs and a mask crouched near its occupant, a woman in a gray shawl.

A mask can’t contain the smile of a MediLodge of Rogers City resident as family and neighbors roll by on Saturday during a Memorial Day weekend parade.

“You know them!” the woman in scrubs cried, waving cheerfully with a reassuring word to the people in the car, and a pat on the arm for the woman in the shawl as they drove away. “I knew they’d come and see you. How about that?”

“Jim, this is your family right here,” a worker called to a man in a straw hat, pointing to a trio of oversized pickup trucks with bright eyes peeking through the windows. “All these monster trucks. Geez-o-Pete, Jim, we’re going to be here all night!”

The parade snailed forward, horns honking, hands waving.

“Bushia is the best,” a sign slung from a motorbike read.

“Thank you, workers!” read another.

“Saw you on Facebook Live!” a man called to his mom as he leaned across his car’s passenger seat, as close to her as he was allowed. “Love you!”

Crayon drawings and hand-lettered posters hung from windows. From inside the cars, kisses were blown, voices called out I-miss-yous and I-love-yous, and eyes were dabbed with tissues.

As the last car slid from the driveway, workers in their “I am essential” shirts unlocked wheelchair wheels, tucked blankets around thin shoulders, and started the parade back into the building where no visitors — or viruses — are allowed.

Julie Riddle can be reached at 989-358-5693, jriddle@thealpenanews.com or on Twitter @jriddleX.