I can't remember all the names, but I recall they were frequently held in small churches, often in what seemed the middle of nowhere. Grandmom would charter a bus and load up a lot of family and friends to go to Vineland or Hammonton, NJ . I think one of these was for Our Lady of Mount Carmel. There was Saint Rocco's in Martin's Creek, PA. There was always hundreds of people crammed into churches meant for half as many people for Mass, usually followed by a procession and then the feasting would begin.
There was food and music and rides and vendors and people coming from far away to celebrate. I remember the smell of chicken grilling on open pits in Vineland, always served with a fresh tomato from a nearby farm and, I think, a bag of chips. The celebration of Saint Therese in Nesquehoning,PA was a big draw to another small town on the edge of the Pocono Mountains. It seemed to me that hundreds of buses would crowd the small streets of a town on the side of a mountain and the day always ended with a helicopter dropping rose petals over the town to remember Saint Theresa "The Little Flower".
But in my mind and my life The Feast was and continues to be in my little town of Norristown, in what was our family parish, Holy Savior. Held every August, it signals for me the winding down of summer celebrations. As with all the others, the Mass is followed by a procession which used to pass by our front door, For years my Mom would hand out cold water to the people walking to honor God. But as a kid and, even now, it's about food and tradition. If you've ever attended, you know the year is not complete unless you've had a roast pork sandwich and fried dough at the feast.
When I was little I remember the excitement of being allowed to go with my friends or by myself and wandering around in the crowd. Everyone was lost in having fun, good food, company and music. It was a community party. I guess that is still the joy in summer gatherings, whether it's a local music festival, a PowWow. state fair or motorcycle races. Anyway, I'm getting off track.
Last night I met my Mom and my sister at Mass before the Feast. I parked around the corner on Sandy Street, half a block from where I grew up, right next to Holy Savior school. I walked past Penn Street where Charlotte, my best friend from grade school lived. I'm so glad that twenty-first century media has allowed us to reconnect. After Mass, I ran into another classmate, Linda, who has stayed in touch with my Mom over the years because they still attended church there. She reminded me of sharing test answers back in seventh grade, which I didn't remember. Funny thing is I remembered jamming fingers and breaking my glasses because I would literally run into her playing basketball. We would both go for the ball but she was always stronger and faster. I never was much of an athlete, but I'm glad to know I helped her pass that test. I sometimes run into another classmate at The Feast, but I didn't see Josephine there this year.
Every year we say we have to go to the feast because it might be the last time to attend for Mom who is ninety-four. Every year it gets harder to find a seat to sit and enjoy our pork sandwich and fried dough. Every year there are fewer people for my Mom to connect and reminisce with . Right now as I'm wiping away tears as I write, I know that we will probably go again next year as long as Mom is still able, and maybe I'll continue long after that.
I had planned to write today, maybe even start on that book I've been thinking about. These thoughts will likely find their way into that book, but I needed to share this today. It's only been a few months since I started writing, but it had been so rewarding to let new people into my world and reconnect with lost friends. I am grateful to my writing community, which continues to grow, for your support. and especially to the person God placed in my path to get me started - Thank you Michael.
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