Cinderella at the Feast
Posted Sunday, July 20, 2014 09:58 AM
 Does a woman ever get too old to be "Daddy's Little Girl?"  At age 58, I found out the answer. 
 
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The summer of 2003 found me  visiting my Dad and family in New Bedford around the time of the  Portuguese Feast in my old neighborhood. It was Saturday, Cecilia, Terry and I had watched the Folkloric dancers, caught some of the mainstream entertainment, ate to our heart's content, strolled the grounds, laughed, chatted with different people for hours.   Around 9:30, we were at the Fado tent, listening to the music when Cecilia and Terry decided they were getting tired and wanted to  call it a night.  We agreed that I'd be all right and would stay  a little longer.  My Dad and Terry lived on Collette Street, a short walk from the feast grounds.  Cecilia had a little bit of a drive to North Dartmouth.  I assured them that I would be safe and sound at the feast and would walk safely home in a little while.  I wasn't scared at all to walk the couple of blocks at any  time, after all, I've taken several defense courses for women.  At the tent, the authentic Portuguese music brought back so many memories of growing up listening to my parents singing.  I was lucky to have been brought up by people who loved music.   Listening to the fados and ballads was such a pleasure.
 
The guitars players strummed songs, some of the audience got up and danced in the round and as we did a version of the "chama rita" to  "Oh,  Rosa redonda a saia," I see Terry coming back into the tent, so I smiled  shimming up to her whispering that I was glad she returned to join me.  She said, that, no Father sent her to bring me back home.  He told her that I was a woman alone and unprotected at the Feast and how could they leave me  unguarded?  All alone?  I laughed asking, "Terry, who protected you,  on your way coming here?"   She added that he wouldn't be able to sleep if he thought I was in danger or could be.  She described his distress.   So sweet of him. I felt  like Cinderella at age 58.  I told her, let's just do one more song, one quick gulp of wine and we'll go, I had just bought some pastry.  I wasn't going to throw it away.   But I respected Dad's wishes. I felt like Dad's girl for a minute, not old enough to be a grandmother.  Saying good-bye to the group at the table, cleaning up my area, we got up to go.   When I got to my Dad's house, I apologized for making him worry.  I never would have given trouble, I thought he was long asleep. He said OK, and it was over.   The next day was the parade and more dancing but I got home at the agreed upon time with Terry and Cecilia.
 
I've lived in Florida since 1968, but still the Feast is something I try to attend at least every few years.  Since coming to America, the first weekend in August meant "THE FEAST." It meant walking a couple of blocks to the Feast Grounds to be dazzled by lights, entertainment, food booths, games, carnival rides and seeing friends, so you had to look good. It meant maybe a cute boy would walk with you. There was a fireworks show on Saturday (growing up years) and the biggest best parade ever on Sunday.... I brought my husband,  and in later yeas, my own kids.  I have gone as often as I can since 1958. It never got old for me, only better. Thirty years ago, the folkloric dance groups brought more of the rich culture. In the early years, we had to be careful about money, but there was always enough for four carnival rides, a drink, ice cream each day of the feast, but the biggest attraction was seeing your friends. The Madeira Feast (A festa dos Madeirenses) as we used to call it growing up, are among my favorite memories.
 
Our house was "feast central " in those days I'd say today.  All the friends and relatives from Taunton, Somerset, Fall River and Fairhaven would stop by on their way. One year Ted Kennedy marched in the Parade.  We used to walk up Nash Road to Acushnet Avenue to watch the parade and marvel. I am grateful to be able to enjoy it and am proud to be connected to the City of New Bedford and appreciate it supporting such a wonderful event.  Now it's one hundred years of tradition.  How special.  To the Feast of the Santissimo Sacramento, Thank you!