Our Lady of Angels Feast, Portuguese

Saintly Intentions Again

Note: In 2013, I wrote about the Feast of Our Lady of Angels that occurs on Labor Day in my hometown. Nine years later it deserved to be updated.

Labor Day. Here in my village of Shelburne Falls, it’s a holiday weekend as summer fades and fall takes over. Earlier in my life, it meant the three-day Feast of Our Lady of Angels at the bottom of our street in my hometown of Fairhaven, Massachusetts.

First, a little history. At the start of the last century, the Portuguese migrated from the Azores and Madeira islands, an often treacherous trip by ship to the land of opportunity. Many found work in the textile mills or fishing industry in New Bedford. My grandparents on both sides of the family were among them.

Among the hopeful immigrants were four Azoreans who started the feast in North Fairhaven — across the harbor from New Bedford — to show their gratitude. They raised $800 to commission a sculptor back in the old country to carve a statue of Our Lady of Angels from wood. The 11-foot statue of Mary with cherubs at her feet arrived August 1930 and the first feast was held the next month. The statue is kept at St. Mary’s Church not far from the feast grounds.

The feast has Portuguese food, band music, games of chance, and auctions. (We kids hung near the auction, hoping someone would buy a large sweetbread and say “cut it up for the kids.”) We could hear the feast from our home, only three houses away, but we were at the feast grounds most of those days.

During the parade held Monday, men carry the statue from St. Mary’s Church up and down Main Street. The statue is adorned with wreaths of money given by the faithful as part of the promises they’ve made.

My father, Antone “Hawk” Medeiros, was one of the men who carried the statue for years — he is on the left, hoisting it onto his shoulder in the photo above — until he was 90. That was in 2013. He died two years later, around the time of the feast. We, of course, attended in honor of him. By the way, the tradition of carrying the statue continues with my brother, Tony Medeiros, who has done it for years. 

As a child, I marched in the parade. I was dressed as Saint Teresa, a costume my mother made. She said I had the round face for it. That’s me in the photo above. Frankly, it’s the closest I will likely come to sainthood.

My sisters, Christine and Kij, went as angels when it was their turn. My brother fittingly was Saint Anthony.

When we were older, Christine and I sold soda, candy, and ice cream in one of the concession stands at the feast. We were stationed next to the women who were in charge of the malassadas — delicious deep-fried, yeasted dough that was rolled in sugar. People stand in long lines to buy them. Our father worked in the beer shack. Late at night, we sat on the beer cartons stacked against the wall rather than go home just yet.

The feast was such an important and enjoyable part of my early life, and I am glad to share it with you.

MORE: If you are interested in reading more of my writing, here’s the link to Amazon, where you will find my books: https://www.amazon.com/Joan-Livingston/e/B01E1HKIDG

By the way, I use my Portuguese heritage in several of my books, including my Isabel Long Mystery Series. Following the Lead, no. 6, will have a Nov. 3 release and is ready for pre-order. Thanks if you do. Here’s that link: https://mybook.to/followingthelead

Western Massachusetts

Call Him Ishmael

Of course, I’m playing with the opening line to that great American novel, Moby-Dick. I was inspired by a visit to Arrowhead, Herman Melville’s home in Pittsfield where the author was his most productive. Melville wrote there for 13 years, including his most famous book, Moby-Dick.


A portrait of Herman Melville

I have a penchant for visiting the homes of famous creative people — homes such as Arrowhead, which was bought by the Berkshire Historical Society in 1975 — that are open to the public.

I want to see where these creative souls worked and lived. I want to feel their energy.

Arrowhead was definitely on my list.

First, a little background is in order. I’m originally from Fairhaven, Mass., which is steeped in whaling history along with its neighboring city, New Bedford. (Every January, the New Bedford Whaling Museum holds a marathon reading of Moby-Dick. My nephew, Paul, has participated in the event, which takes 25 hours.)

Growing up, I was immersed in whaling history. In fifth grade, I wrote a paper about the Essex, the whaling ship that sank and stranded 20 men in the southern Pacific. Crewmembers survived by cannibalism. Their story is supposed to have inspired Moby-Dick.

I also read Moby-Dick as a high school sophomore, a bit of heavy reading for someone that age.

But back to Melville, he was 21, when he set sail on the whaler, Acushnet, based in Fairhaven, in January 1841. He lasted 18 months, before jumping ship in the Marquesas Islands in the Pacific. He called that voyage his college education. When he eventually returned to the U.S., he drew on his experiences to write his first five books.

Melville is also supposed to have read an article about “Mocha Dick: The White Whale of the Pacific.” When that white whale was eventually killed, the crew found 20 harpoons stuck to its body from other attempts to kill the animal.

My theory: Good writers take what they know and have their way with it. I believe Melville did that.

Certainly, there’s enough written about Melville and Moby-Dick that I don’t have to repeat it here. I do find it interesting, however, an author of his stature was unable to profit from his writing. Reviews at the time of Moby-Dick’s publication in 1851 were iffy, even negative.

In debt, Melville sold off about 80 acres. Later, he sold Arrowhead to his brother and returned with his family to New York, where he was a customs clerk for 20 years. He had a desk job, working six days a week for $4 a day.

There is certainly a lesson here for writers, like myself, who are frustrated by the writing business.


Not the original desk but the spot where he wrote.

Last week, Hank and I toured the rooms in Arrowhead that were open to visitors. He admired the workmanship of the home built in the 1790s. I was most interested in the room on the second floor where Melville wrote.

Here Melville sat at a table facing a window that gave him a long view of Mount Greylock in the horizon. The story has it that the mountain’s shape reminded him of a white whale.

The original table is at the Berkshire Athenaeum — guess where I’m heading next — but as I sat in that room I got it. Through the wavy old glass and the overcast sky, Greylock indeed resembled a whale. Call me nuts, but I could feel the creative energy in that room.

That night we watched the 61-year-old movie Moby Dick, which was a bit dated. Gregory Peck plays the vengeful Capt. Ahab. The next day, I headed to the library to order a copy of the novel through the inter-library loan system. It’s supposed to come in Tuesday.

Didn’t I tell you I was inspired?

ABOUT THE PHOTO ABOVE: That’s Hank walking the grounds of Arrowhead. For more on historic site, visit http://www.mobydick.org

ONE MORE THING: I have been remiss in not posting info about my books for sale on Amazon, including my most recent, The Sweet Spot, set in Western Mass. They’re not free, but they are for the taking. Check them out: https://www.amazon.com/Joan-Livingston/e/B01E1HKIDG