The Saint Rides Through Town

A town that sets a table for the dead values memory.

By Neil Solomon · 3 min read

Picture a couple named Linda and George, three months into a new town. One morning the street is full of drums and marchers in ironed uniforms. Nobody warned them. George, who dislikes surprises, takes a step back. Linda takes a step forward.

I think holidays are where a place shows itself most openly. They are also where a newcomer finds out whether they want to stand at the edge or walk in.

Three countries, three kinds of day

Panama. One retiree wrote about November, the month of parades. The streets filled, and the uniforms were ironed to a sharp edge. The tone of the account was amused. She seemed charmed by how seriously and how happily the whole town took it. A month of parades is a lot, and she seemed to like it anyway.

Paraguay. The stories here are the warmest of the ones I read. In one, a saint rides through town. In another, a small party marks San Juan, and a newcomer is simply part of it. In a third, a caravan of cars follows the big win of a football match, horns going, and a newcomer finds herself in the middle. In all three, the feeling was belonging. Nobody gave a lesson. People were pulled in.

Bolivia. A retiree there described a table set for the dead at Todos Santos. The tone was tender. A table with food, a place for someone who is gone, and a neighbor who explained what each thing meant. It is a reminder that holidays also carry grief, and that a stranger is allowed near it.

My reading

What stands out to me is how little preparation these days needed. Nobody had studied. They were asked to stand next to someone, to carry something, to taste something. The invitation was the lesson.

I also think it helps to be a little less afraid of getting it wrong. In every story, the locals seemed glad someone showed up and not very concerned about the details.

I would add that a holiday is a way to see what a town values. A town that irons uniforms for a month of parades values pride. A town that sets a table for the dead values memory. A town that follows a football win with a caravan values joy shared in public. None of these is better than another, but knowing which one fits you seems useful before you choose where to live.

Back to Linda and George. The drums come closer.

"Do we go in?" asks George.

"We watch from the front," says Linda. "If someone waves, we go."

A woman waves.