For me, it's the annual trip to the big outdoor flea market held at a local fairgrounds.

Now, I don't go during the day. As much as I can putter around looking at old bits of this and that as much as the next guy, I'm afraid that my interest tends to taper off pretty quickly. Especially since even my dad would have had trouble identifying some of the odds and ends that are carted from one location to another at this event. But if this is your passion, there's no better place to spend a spring weekend.

No, I go on Friday evening, and for the sole purpose of hanging out with friends that I seldom see for the rest of the year. I go late enough to make sure that they've set up their camper, arranged their assorted offerings on the ground in their vendor's space, and have retired to lawn chairs to enjoy conversation and an occasional beverage.

It’s a ritual that we've repeated for many, many years now.

When we started, we talked about jobs and kids, and took a trip down memory lane. Now, we talk about jobs and kids and grandkids. And take an ever longer trip down memory lane. They say that our memory gets stronger when we use it, so we could argue that we're engaging in a little preventative medicine for our old age. Somehow, however, it seems like the stories we tell for the umpteenth time are just a little more colourful each year. And there are some stops on that road that I'd just as soon forget. Ah well.

There will no doubt come a time when this ritual will cease. It might be because organizers decide to stop holding the event, or more likely because one of us, willingly or otherwise, fails to show up some year. Hopefully that time is many years in the future.

But when it does happen, it will no doubt be for good reason and we will no doubt adapt to changed circumstances. All good things, as the saying goes, eventually come to an end.

Rituals bring us comfort. They provide a familiar pattern and rhythm for our lives. Rituals help us find meaning in a world where meaning often seems hard to come by.

The best rituals, like my annual outing to the flea market, strengthen our relationships. In fact I would suggest that rituals that don't do this have no purpose at all. Rituals that do not bring us together in community in one way or another are empty indeed.

We often express concern that the organizations we belong to don't seem to attract people the way they once did. Be it our church or our favorite service club, we look around and see dwindling numbers and aging members.

We have failed to adapt our rituals to the changing circumstances of the world we live in. We've made the mistake of thinking that the world should adapt to us, or that it should at least acknowledge the heritage of our presence. We believe that, since we find meaning in long standing tradition, that others should as well.

But there is no second generation of friends in lawn chairs at the flea market. This is a ritual that will be for one special group of friends and it will pass into oblivion with us.

The rituals around which we build our communities must change with the people who live in them or suffer the same fate.