Festival shows power of a parish touchstone

Carmella Romanelli may have missed a few of the processions in her 84 years, but she can't remember when.

In tiny Bridgeport on Sunday, she sat on her rolling walker outside Our Lady of Mount Carmel Catholic Church - where she was baptized and where she and her parents had their wedding ceremonies - and her tears welled in anticipation.

Mass was over, and men were carrying the statue of Our Lady of Mount Carmel down the steps to a crowd in the street, where the 87th annual procession would be held on the last day of the church's Italian festival.

Romanelli got out her handkerchief to wave at the statue, a tradition, but also to wipe her eyes.

All around her, others were doing the same, overwhelmed by the memories. People like Vince Iacavino, 70, and Connie Pizza, 84, and Helen Mardi, 83, who was accompanied by four generations of her family.

When the statue, adorned with roses on this special day, reached the street, Romanelli stood up and moved toward it, supporting herself with her walker.

"I have to touch the statue," she said.

She stepped between two men shouldering the statue and rested her fingertips on its base. Other women, older women, did so as well.

"It's a special indulgence," Romanelli said. "An extra blessing."

For decades, men have carried the statue of Our Lady of Mount Carmel and others out of the church and through the heavily Italian borough. Years ago, they continued for hours, up and down many streets.

The women walked barefoot, just as women did in the villages of Italy. People would put little tables in the street so the men could set the statues down and rest.

The procession is much shorter now, just a few blocks - and the heavier statues are wheeled on carts. But just as always, it ends back at the church, where everyone can feast.

The event is the climax of the celebration known as La Grande Festa Italiana in honor of the church's patron saint.

"Father!" Romanelli said, waving to a priest. She walked over to see him. Romanelli is sick and relies on oxygen from a tank she carries in a basket on her walker.

As she approached the priest, the oxygen tube stretched as far as it could go. Romanelli's walker dragged behind her.

"Good to see you!" said Msgr. Charles Vance.

"Our Lady of Mount Carmel brings me," Romanelli said.

Overcome, she sat back down on her walker. She was crying.

"God still takes me here. I can't miss this day."

Romanelli's parents cooked suffritto - beef liver and heart, in a nice tomato sauce with peppers and onions - for 50 years at this feast. When the procession would pass their house, the men would stop and turn the statue toward her mother as an expression of thanks.

Then they would turn the statue across the street, toward the DiBonaventures' house, because they did an awful lot, too.

Romanelli's parents are long dead. Their old home, a few blocks from the church, was sold years ago. Romanelli lives in Skippack now. Of seven sisters, the surviving four always return for the festival of Italian heritage and celebration.

"This is the biggest holiday in our family," said Toni Piccirilli, 69, her younger sister, who pushed Romanelli in her walker.

They watched the procession from a former neighbor's front porch and looked for childhood friends they see just once a year.

"Suzie, Suzie!" Romanelli yelled to Sue Dayoc, 74, who still lives in town, as she passed by.

Bands would play at the stage on Union Avenue well into the evening, but Romanelli wasn't sure how much stamina she would have.

She belongs to another church near her home, and truth be told, she will have her Funeral Mass there when the time comes.

But there is no doubt "this is where my heart is," Romanelli said, and she will come back to Bridgeport for as long as Our Lady of Mount Carmel wishes it.