As a single man, I drove a Jeep. It
was a 1984 CJ7, and I loved it. I drove it with a hard top and doors for half
the year, and swapped those for their vinyl counterparts in the spring. The
best time was when I could put down the top and lose the doors all together! It
was a bare-bones model, with no insulation. The metal chassis was all that
separated driver and passengers from the elements, which was fine for most of
the year. However, living and working in Fort St. James made it tough to be a
Jeep owner in the winter. Really tough.
Not long before our first child
arrived, it became very clear that we needed a different vehicle. We replaced the Jeep for a sporty SUV. While
more appropriate than an off-road deep freeze, it was still stylish and
independent. I could see myself shuttling a family around town in this vehicle
for many years to come. But before I could realize that vision, circumstance
would step right in; before I had time to register the transformation, I was
the owner of a ‘minivan’.
It was green, with a sliding door
on each side. It had a third row of seats, and plenty of storage room behind
them. The back end was a full-size hatch which opened like a yawning mouth. It
was a very practical vehicle, and the first automatic transmission I ever owned.
The minivan made it official: I was
a family man.
Although we had only two children,
we travelled heavy. The sheer volume of bags, gadgets, and gear required to equip
our family on the road made the minivan indispensable, something I discovered
on its inaugural trip: the long weekend in April.
I have three brothers, and the one
nearest to me in age lives in the Fraser Valley. He and his wife have two
children as well, of similar ages to my own. Having been surrounded by many,
many cousins in our youth, my brother and I made every effort to come together
with our own families, so that our children could make memories, too. They are
‘Danyluks West’ and – with our home in the Kootenays – we are ‘Danyluks East’.
A frequent point of gathering over
the years is exactly mid-point between our homes; it is our father’s house in
Sorrento. For many years, our swollen minivan pulled into Dad’s driveway late
on Thursday of the April long weekend. My brother’s entourage would arrive soon
after. He and I would make several trips up and down the front steps, hauling inside
all we had brought with us. Dad’s house would be overrun by toddlers and toys,
and girls and boys, as we installed ourselves for the longest of the long
weekends.
Over the next few days, we would
over-indulge in so many ways: we ate too much, we played too much, we slept too
much, we laughed too much, we argued too much, we teased too much, and we loved
so much. We would spend hours at the kitchen table with candles burning
and kitska in our hands. We would later gather around the same table to
determine the Trivial Pursuit champion. These weekends were filled with
tradition and ritual, little of which had anything to do with faith.
On a number of occasions, I have
shared that my wife has her roots in Newfoundland. She was raised in a devout
Roman Catholic community. I, too, was raised in the same faith, but with far
less observance or adherence to its tenants. While our children are part of a
faith community at home, and they understand the significance for many of this
April long weekend, I believe it is fair to say that for us, this holiday in
spring is most bound up in feelings of warmth and love for family.
I believe it is also fair to say
that my children, as is true for many of their generation, recognize that the
calendar they grew up with is narrow and incomplete. While it may be only
thirty days, April is a month filled with the significant observances of many world
communities. For Muslims across the globe, these weeks in spring are a sacred
time for devotion, reflection, and celebration of mercy and love. April holds
the Festival of Ridván which is the holiest of days in the Baháʼí Faith. In this month, Yoam Hashoah
is observed with candle lighting ceremonies to honour and remember Holocaust
victims and survivors. Jewish communities commemorate the anniversary of
freedom from slavery during Passover this month. One of the most important Hindu festivals, Gudi Padwa, arrives in
April and is thought to bring good luck, success, and happiness. A time to
visit, remember, and honour family ancestors is found in Qingming Festivals,
celebrated within Chinese communities as April begins.
I could continue, for the list above is far from complete. Each of these
celebrations and observances, from diverse communities with many different
beliefs, is unique; however, the qualities of love, honour, devotion, and
connecting are present and woven across cultures. People find their essence of
'family' and 'home' in many places, and in a rainbow of formulations.
Each year, as we step through the days of the calendar, we hope that we
have learned something by the time we turn the page. In this year of our
learning and growth, equity calls us to draw up our calendars with space for
the observances of every community, and to better understand that the joy and meaning
felt in traditional celebrations are a human experience, common among all peoples.
And, for gatherings to come, our children will load their own vehicles –
likely battery-powered, perhaps even hovering – with bags, gadgets, and gear,
excited to connect and celebrate with family down the road. Their appreciation of
diversity will continue to deepen, and to
validate the purposes for which they gather on any day of the year.