French la Vie

 

"Each year in Portuguese communities, especially those with an Azorean background, there are held Festas do Espírito Santo (Festivals of the Holy Spirit). They involve a dressed parade with some paraders carrying baskets of bread on their heads, the crownings of queens of the festivals and a community meal in each community. Prominently displayed during each festival is a crown topped with an image of a dove. This festival is usually held on the seventh Sunday after Easter, but could be held on any Sunday between Easter and Pentocost Sunday.

The participants and onlookers think of the festival as a quaint manifestation of Portuguese community spirit. It is usually organized and presented by a local non-church organization but utilizes church facilities. Little do the onlookers know that this festival had its origins in a radical theological movement that was wide-spread in Europe but survived largely only in Portugal because the King and Queen in Portugal moderated its radical elements and supported its observation." Via SJSU

 

 

 

 

Yesterday was the Princeton Festa (to see more photos of this wonderful community tradition click here.)

 

 As a child I attended the Festa every June without fail until I moved away from home to a distant land. Since, then I have only attended a hand full of times. Once being when Chelsea was; "Little Queen" because her Godfather (my brother Zane) was the President that year. Sadly, I have missed more than I care to think about, but at least when I do attend the Festa (like yesterday) tradition fills in the void and takes me back to that which I hold dear: Community.

I love the memories that the "Festa" brings to me, ones that I hold dear, memories that make the Festa more than the common eye can see, and the first time visitor hard to appreciate. 

The long wooden tables covered in white with benches to match under eucalyptus trees,

The calls given during the Chamarrita,

Orange soda,

Sweet bread,

The wood burning ovens linger aroma of spice and onions,

The auctioneer's rattling off the bid for the ever mounting price of the sweet bread my Aunts made,

The small parade with silk flags, pageantry, doves, traditional costumes representing saints, and the marching band playing the same song that has been played before I was born,

The crowns and capes, of the chosen girls who were the Queen and side maids of the day,

The closed door to the kitchen,

The cooler room.

The red and green aprons that the servers wear,

Yellow beans that pop at the beer stand.

Lining up for lunch, at the gate, with your ribbon. 

and when I was teenager it was a place to meet other young people, and the thrill was intensified as the day wore on and the dance began.

And the happiness of being with everyone each year celebrating.