ABSTRACT
There is a pilgrimage that happens in early April every year. People come from across the United States and across town, gravitating to a single city block. Usually it is bitter cold, but outdoor grills are fired up around the neighbourhood anyway. Glove-clad fingers wrap around bratwurst and hot dogs that steam mightily in the icy morning air. Chili and beer are served as early as nine in the morning, and smiling, red-cheeked men and women travel from tavern to backyard barbecue, greeting everyone along the way, ‘Happy New Year!'
