"Whan that August"

This summer I packed up my books and bags and made my way back to the province I love – Alberta! I start my Masters at the University of Alberta in Edmonton in September so August has been about visiting family and prospecting the prairies. It’s been great to come back home and rediscover the places where I grew up. I really wanted to make sure that I was here in time to not only set up in an apartment and settle down before the school crunch began, but also so I could go to the annual pilgrimage in Skaro.

In 1914 around 100 000 Ukrainians and Poles immigrated to Canada, many settling in the prairies. I don’t claim to know all about the history of these people, and instead of plagiarizing my pilgrimage program I will sum up by saying that the Polish and Ukrainian community in Skaro, Alberta began building a Grotto to Our Lady of Lourdes in June of 1919. That August 14th and 15th the first annual pilgrimage was attended by 4000-5000 people. This year was the 92nd annual pilgrimage to the Grotto of Our Lady of Lourdes in the sleepy little district of Skaro. This pilgrimage is important to me for three reasons. First, August 15th is my birthday, so when I go to the pilgrimage it feels like a giant birthday party for me. Second, my grandfather helped build the Grotto when he was a boy, and finally, both he and my grandmother are buried in the cemetery there.

Now, say what you will about religion. Actually, don’t. I’m not interested in starting that debate. Believe what you want or don’t. It’s none of my business. But pilgrimages, that I have an opinion on! You all know by now that Chaucer is my main squeeze. (Ok, I guess my secondary squeeze since I do have a husband and he squeezes better than a 600 year old dead guy.) So the word “pilgrimage” perks my ears and peaks my interest. The idea of a group of like-minded people, whatever their differences, convening in one place they consider sacred to find peace is, to me, the epitome of community. Whether it’s to Jerusalem or Graceland, the journey with strangers of a place of commonality is wonderful.

And it could be because I’m about to start yet another year of school, but it makes me think about other journeys of convergence. Concerts, festivals, protests, gallery openings, school orientations, cooking classes, poetry readings, lectures, Sunday dinners, parades, and so much more – all the places and purposes for getting together. On one hand we do these things because, personally, we want to see them through. We can’t wait to see that band or speaker because it will make us better, more thoughtful and experienced people. But isn’t the act of doing these things with likeminded people just as exciting? Don’t we relish in the idea of joining a group of strangers and becoming, just for one night, for one moment, something bigger? Sure, the spiritual or at least prominent end of the journey is meaningful to us, but the act of moving with a deliberate group whose names you don’t know and whom you’ll never see again takes these moments from simply going to going on a pilgrimage.