Traveling with a secret agenda

One of my goals during my trip to Texas to visit my brother and his family was to have a long talk with my nephew who is now a Catholic Priest. I rarely travel with a secret agenda, but this time one was necessary. My one day illness deprived me of a chance to see my nephew's parish. Thankfully, he came to see me. My reason for this talk is in his position of church power he will have kids coming to him about gay concerns. I didn't want him to cause them damage.

We talked of many things, not just my secret agenda. His parish is 80% Mexican and he says he has 600 Mexican mothers who make sure he doesn't go hungry. He has endeared himself to them by being a gringo who at least is attempting to speak their language. He is fondly called Padrecito, the little priest (though he is easily tops 6-feet). He has preached in Spanish and does so by writing out what he wants to say in English and asking a church member to translate. He knows enough Spanish to be pleased with what he gets.

He says it is a stereotype that the younger priest, especially one just out of seminary, is assigned to lead the youth groups. In this case the stereotype is actually true and he is pretty good with the kids. Which made my secret agenda that much more important.

I asked, so he told me his bachelor degree is from a very conservative Catholic college. All Catholic seminaries range from somewhat conservative to very conservative. His was on the somewhat conservative side.

From the view, perhaps, of testing how somewhat conservative his view are now, I asked if any kids have talked to him about being gay. Yes, some have. He knows the Pope's position, and in spite of that makes sure the kids feel welcome. He says they have enough issues simply dealing with being gay. He won't make it worse -- he'll be as supportive as he can. He can't offer same-sex couple blessings, but otherwise he'll be as affirming as possible.

One of his good friends from seminary is gay. This young man had no intention of telling the church hierarchy. Both are aware that many gay Catholic men choose the priesthood to avoid having to explain why there are no girlfriends, and both are aware this is not a healthy reason for choosing a profession. This friend appreciated having my nephew as someone he could confide in. My nephew learned about the life and challenges of being gay.

All that was very good to hear. Agenda complete.

One last question for my nephew. What would his mother have said if he told her he was gay? This has long been a fear of mine -- if she found out would she ban me from seeing her kids? He had no idea. Homosexuality was a topic never discussed (the rest of the family knows what that's like).

The children of various other nephews were feeling much better so one family came to my brother's house on Friday evening and I visited the other on Saturday afternoon. Both visits were delightful. I was able to visit everyone I wanted to, though in some cases for a shorter time than I would have liked.

Pretty highways

The music project took less time than I anticipated. The tax forms are filled out, the check written, and all is in the mail. On to other projects, like telling you about all the things I've read about in the last couple weeks and haven't had time to write about.

First, the long-awaited trip report.

After attending the last in the series of Lenten Bible studies on April 1, I had lunch and pulled out of the driveway by 12:15. It took 7 hours to get to Charleston, West Virginia, putting me in Columbus during rush hour. The slowest traffic was actually in Nelsonville, Ohio.

Friday morning I took US-60 up the New River valley southeast of the capital. It's an industrial area and appears to be quite poor. My goal was the famous bridge over the New River Gorge near Fayetteville.

After lunch I was back in the car to drive to my cousin's house near Charlotte, NC. There were many redbud trees in bloom along the highway, especially in North Carolina -- which gave me something to look at while stuck in a backup due to an accident.

Cousin and family are doing well. I had the honor of reading bedtime stories to the 3 year old boy. We colored Easter eggs that evening and he tried to use a white crayon to decorate a white egg and was convince the crayon didn't work. His sister, age 6, was usually sweet, but knew how to antagonize her brother.

Saturday we all went to Rock Hill, South Carolina, which the guide book suggested was a pleasant place to visit. Other than a nice garden (which we found almost by accident) the town doesn't have all that much to offer. One reason for going is to check off another state in my lifetime list of those I've visited. In this trip it was West Virginia and South Carolina (though my only previous visit to North Carolina was sitting on an airplane at a gate at the Charlotte airport). The only state left is North Dakota.

The house got more full when Cousin's in-laws arrived Sunday morning rather than the originally anticipated Tuesday afternoon (yes, they were told in advance). The Easter crowd was complete with Cousin's former Michigan neighbors who have also moved to North Carolina.

On Monday we visited David Stowe Botanical Gardens in Belmont (where Cousin lives). The kids enjoyed the many fountains, especially the one with streams arching over the walkway. After lunch in downtown Belmont we drove around Charlotte. Since both Cousin and his wife work from home he hadn't seen much of Charlotte since his move there last August.

I headed north on Tuesday morning -- and hit another backup in NC. This time it was road construction. Once into Virginia I took the Blue Ridge Parkway on to Roanoke. It's a relaxing drive, but a bit early in the season. The famed flowers weren't in bloom and the service areas (food, restrooms) weren't open yet. I spent two nights in Charlottesville.

Most of Wednesday was at Monticello, Thomas Jefferson's home. Even then I didn't see all the exhibits in the visitor center. I took the tour of the main house, then one of Mulberry Row, which looks at the plantation from a slave's point of view. One slave, Peter Farley Fossett, didn't think slavery was all that bad -- until Jefferson died and he was sold to a cruel master. Fossett later wrote about his experiences. At the bottom of the hill is Michie Tavern (not related to Jefferson). That tour talks about the hotel industry in 1810. That evening I explored a bit of Charlottesville, including the part of University of Virginia built by Jefferson. Charlottesville hit a record high of 90 that day which was the earliest they've been that hot. Fortunately, the humidity wasn't high.

I traversed the Skyline Drive of Shenandoah National Park on Thursday. I stopped at nearly all of the 75 overlooks, though I didn't take photos at each one. The weather report predicted thunderstorms around 5:00 and I didn't want to still be on the drive then. I did the 105 miles in 6.5 hours, heading to the town of Luray at 4:30 -- when the rain began.

Luray Caverns, which I toured Friday morning, are among the most highly decorated (greatest number of stalactites and stalagmites) caves. Instead of guided tours they offer audio tours and I took my time. In one room they have a musical instrument in which soft mallets tap stalactites that produce the proper pitch. It seems an overkill that the big console has enough controls for 1650 notes, but only 37 are used (and many of them aren't working right now). Outside the cave is a Garden Maze, which was an enjoyable way to get lost.

From there I drove US-33 across the hills of southeast West Virginia and across the state to Marietta, Ohio for supper and Cambridge for the night. The air was much less hazy than when in was in Shenandoah.

I visited a few Amish furniture stores in Sugarcreek Saturday morning to get a replacement desk chair. There are a couple possibilities, but it will have to be ordered. I was home by 4:00, plenty of time to get to a Detroit Symphony Orchestra concert that night (I already had the ticket).

While I was gone my magnolia tree bloomed and began to fade. The forsythia around the house is in full bloom.