It took me a while to figure out what it was about my recent visit to St. Peter’s Fiesta in Gloucester that felt so satisfying. All the usual pleasures were on hand: the all-ages crowds; the timeless allure of the various rigged tests of skill and strength; the patter of the sun-browned, sleepy-alert carnies; the entertainers who sang joosta like Julius La Rosa or Connie Francis; the swooping passage high overhead against the darkening sky of riders on a giant aerial swing, putting up their arms all together as the machine banked for a suspended moment before swinging back the other way.
It was a street festival, a carnival, and a community ritual all at once — there were boat races and a greasy pole contest and the blessing of the fleet, too — and it offered joy and meaning to locals and visitors alike.
Comments
Come on Carlo...must you of all people stoop to such stereotypical stuff. Who speaks like that? The editors at The Globe surely wouldn't know. And as for the name of the "Fiesta", I remember as a child attending "La Festa di San Pietro". I know this may tee off folks who run the Feast now, and I do not mean any disrespect, but why and when did the Spanish "fiesta" replace the Italian "festa"?
People are indeed missing the fulol measure of life's experiences while texting/tweeting/phoning about them. I tell others that I am too busy living my life to spend so much time telling everyone about while it's happening.