Chapter 1
João didn’t remember the silver crown of the Holy
Spirit being this heavy. It was digging into his scalp. Praying
it wouldn’t fall, he looped two fingers of his right hand over
the rim, adjusting it slightly. In his left hand he held the silver
scepter. The whole village was milling about in the courtyard in
front of Nossa Senhora das Neves,1 the parish church of Norte
Grande, São Jorge, Azores Islands, awaiting the beginning of
the procession. The whitewashed walls of the eighteenth-century
church gleamed in the sun on this blustery May day. Women
and girls held down the billowing skirts of their best floral print
dresses. Men and boys were uniformly attired in dark pants and
white shirts. João and a few others had also donned jackets and
ties. All of this was heady stuff for a ten-year old who had been
given the honor of carrying the crown. The uncomfortable tie,
as well as being the center of attention for the entire parish, was
making him light-headed. In spite of it, João preened, enjoying
the moment. To his side stood a boy cousin fidgeting with the pedestaled
plate upon which the crown and...
1 Nossa Senhora das Neves—Our Lady of the Snows