The Adjusted Normal, 49. The Miracle Virgin.

Today is the first Sunday in August. That means it's the Romería dos Milagros in my father's parish of O Araño, the pilgrimage of the Virgin of Miracles.

I think that only in Spain does the Virgin Mary have just about every atribute. Virgin of Snows, Virgin of the Pilar, Virgin of the Miracles, Virgin of Carmel, Virgin of Guadelupe, Virgin of the Forlorn, Virgin of Mercies, Virgin of Heads, Virgin of the Oak, and the list goes on and on, passing through some very strange attributes (heads? really?). 

More than anything, I assume that the Virgin Mary has taken on the names, attributions, and locations of ancient deities once venerated widely in certain areas. The spot where the chapel of the Virxe dos Milagros is in O Araño, is next to a pre-Roman hillfort, and may very well have had religious significance before Christianity came by. 

Because the Virxe dos Milagros is not the patron saint of the parish. That's Santa Baia (Saint Eulalie), and her feast day is in December, not that much is made of it. The Virgin has a chapel that was built in 1972, to probably replace a much older one, now lost to the ages. 

There are Masses all morning, from the first one at eight, to the Solemn Mass at one o'clock, after which noise bombs are knocked into the air, to let everyone know the Virgin is going out in procession. On the lane near what's left of the oak grove where the chapel is, there usually is a vendor of candles. There are long candles for sale, tied to a stick so the candle doesn't buckle in the normally hot sun that shines down on this day. There are also shorter candles, and wax figures of body parts. In previous years, there was also a truck selling watermelons. That was when they weren't grown year-round in greenhouses, and only started appearing in August. There also used to be stalls selling toys and snacks, many years ago.

This morning.

Our daughter has gotten into the habit of walking to the first Mass with her grandmother every year. This year, she didn't make an exception, and set out early to meet her grandmother and make the trek. When they arrived, they watched from the lane above the grove. There weren't many people, and they kept well apart, at least down in the grove. On the lane above, people tended to stand together to have a clear view down to the chapel.

August, 1982.

I think I haven't gone since I was pregnant with her, and my mother made me go. Before that, I used to go every summer we came on vacation. We would go to one of the later Masses, and once, at least, we went to the Solemn Mass. After that, we were invited to eat at my grandmother's house. For dessert, apart from cake or pastries, there was always a watermelon bought from the truck. In normal years, it was very crowded. Of late, the local police have had to direct traffic. I remember one summer, my parents bought me a doll I begged for. Another year, they bought me and my small cousin a guitar, each. After that, I was too old for toys, but I started to carry a pocket camera with me. In 1982, I had a new Kodak Disc camera, and I had brought it with me to Spain for the summer. Of course, I took some photos of the procession, and of the saint, covered in bills. Back then, the currency was still the peseta, and there was (still is) the habit of pinning money to the saint's clothing, as an offering. I remember one year an emigrant visiting family pinned, in a very prominent spot, a hundred dollar bill. But I don't think it was in 1982, from when I have a photo.

1982. There are bills of 100, 500, 1000, and 5000 pesetas.

At night there was the usual festival held in an open area of the parish, either at the oak grove, or in the open space in front of the local two-room school building. Later, a larger area was cleared above the village, expressly for the festival But the festival hasn't been held in these past years, because either a commission hasn't been set up to organize things, or they didn't gather enough money from all the parishioners. This year, the pandemic took care that there wouldn't be anything else. I remember going at night to the festival on my vacations, and how it seemed to be one of the biggest festivals around here. It may have been, but it's since lost that distinction. 

People keep showing up for the Masses, though, to ask for miracles to happen, just like they've always done. That's why my mother obliged me to go when I was pregnant, so everything would go well. I do remember the cold I suffered that weekend, and that it was cool and foggy. Many years, the sun shines like the merciless hand of God, and people try to go to earlier Masses, unless they've offered themselves to the Virgin at the Solemn Mass at one. The candle seller makes brisk sales as the morning grows, as those who have offered themselves buy a candle to light during Mass. I have a faint memory of holding one one year, or at least of the hot wax, but I can't be sure. But I wouldn't have been surprised if my mother had prayed to the Virxe dos Milagros for anything related to me, and then obliged me to carry a candle to Mass on our next visit here. She was like that. I remember one night of violent thunderstorms in Boston, first being frightened, and then mystified, by the vision of my mother walking up and down the apartment with a lit candle, praying to Saint Barbara for protection. 

Wasn't Saint Rocco the patron saint against the plague? Hmm. His saint's day is coming up on August 16th....

Life continues.

This morning.