Is this the most exotic part of Ohio? (Project 88 report)

Twelve more counties visited in three days. Only four left to see.

Last weekend I joined some friends on a visit to Nashville. That was fun! We got back Monday afternoon, and -- because I had originally blocked off more time for that trip, I planned to use the remaining time for a jaunt across Ohio, to take in some of the remaining counties.

My first stop was Hocking County, where Hocking Hills State Park is located. Several folks here have told me how beautiful the area is; they go regularly. They were correct. I stayed at a hotel near Logan, the county seat, and found dinner at Jacks Steak House. I have to admit, when I walked in, the place looked more like a diner than a steakhouse, but the food was good and the service was great, and prices very fair.

There's a lot to see and do in this area; there are cabins everywhere, with lots of opportunities for fishing, hiking and maybe hunting. I took in several of the sites, all of which involved some hiking. Here is "Ash Cave," so called because of ashes found on the floor, presumably from millennia of human habitation.

You can't see it, but there is a stream that trickles down from the rocks above. Things are very dry in Ohio these days.

You can hike all around to these sites; or you can do as I did, drive from place to place, and walk shorter distances. The next stop, Cedar Falls, involved some down and up. Again, the falls were only a trickle:

Here are the walls of the valley I walked through to the falls.

My last stop in the park was "Old Man's Cave," so named because some fellow with two dogs lived some while in these environs:

This picture doesn't do it justice. This vista reminded me of one of the elven habitations in Tolkien's works.

I will return there! But for now, we press on to Perry County My intended destination were Shawnee, a kind of "ghost town," and San Toy, of which only bare remnants remain. First, however, I passed the New Straitsville library, which looked a lot like a train station:

According to Wikipedia, striking coal miners started a fire in the coal mine there in the 1800s that burns to this day! Sorry I didn't get to see that! Over some serious hills, I made my way to Shawnee:

The whole downtown is two blocks, this shows you one side of one block; the rest is about the same, although there are a few buildings still occupied, including by the local historical society. In the middle of this photo is a tavern that almost looks still in operation. But look closer: the entrances are boarded up; yet a grill still sits on the front porch. People still live around here, however.

As I made my way to San Toy, more decay:

There was a lot of this. As it happens, I never found the remnants of San Toy, but I did find this church. A sign of hope:

As I drove over the hills hereabouts, passing into Morgan County, I paused to capture this vista: 

I'm not good at photos; it was beautiful. Ohio doesn't really have mountains, but this area and the rest I passed through comes closest. 

From San Toy I headed east to cross the Muskingum River at McConnelsville. I stopped by the river to get a nice shot of a bridge, which involved walking the plank, as it were. This walkway was very rusty, steeper than it looks, and made some distressing sounds as I stepped onto it.

Here's the bridge:

Here's the village square, which was pretty busy when I took this photo; also some fun looking places nearby. In the background you can see the Opera House, where William Jennings Bryan held a meeting at one time. Despite being the county seat, McConnelsville is only a village -- not large enough to be a city.

Now it was time to head for Washington County. My original plan was to make for Marietta, on the river, but I decided to skip that. Sorry Marietta! Instead I decided to stop in Beverly, several miles down the river, and then turn north. At Beverly, I noticed this lock near the gas station where I stopped:

 Apparently a boat had just come through the locks; here are the fellows working the lower gate. A sign said I wasn't supposed to be standing where I was, but no one said a word.

Also, a boat blew up here some time back:

My next stop was a town called Fulda (and Noble County), where I wanted to see an old Catholic church. There was no direct route; I had some ups and downs and arounds over Ohio's not-quite-mountains. As I drove down State Route 564 -- a newly paved road that I seemed to have all to myself on a beautiful Tuesday afternoon -- I passed the Ashton Inn. Pausing to take a photo, I first asked the fellow standing on the porch if it was OK. After a pause he said, "Don't matter me none."

More twists and turns, including over some gravel roads; then the spire of St. Mary of the Immaculate Conception loomed over the treetops as I turned into Fulda:

The church looks like it might have been designed for a steeple that was never added. Next door was a sizeable rectory, and what might have been a small school behind. Here are two photos from inside. This mural is in the vestibule:

There was a picture of Pope Benedict on the back wall of the nave; I did not find a portrait of Pope Francis.

From here I made my way over another hill to Carlisle; as I came down the hill, I found St. Michael Catholic church. The bulletin I picked up told me the pastor was responsible for both these churches, plus two more in nearby Calwell. The road I took over that hill was partly gravel; if that is washed out or snowed over, the priest has a much longer way around.

From here I headed east to Monroe County. I actually made it to Lewisville, but I can't find any pictures. Here's a lonely intersection as proof I was there:

This is Summerfield, on the way toward Cambridge, where I was staying the night:

Just beyond that was a huge industrial plant, I'm not sure what goes on here. Marathon Oil owned it. By the way, I did see a few oil pumps here and there, and signs referring to fracking.

Whigville:

Pleasant City (which brought me into Guernsey County): 

Sorry, no photos of the "Microtel," or the restaurant! 

Next day I drove up to the nearby Salt Fork State Park. After taking in the sites of Hocking Hills, I chose to do a quick drive through; but there are caves and trails here, too, and also a lake for swimming. After this, I drove back down to I-70 and headed east into Belmont County. 

I was going to find an old schoolhouse, only I drove past it before I checked the directions! I did find my way to an old bridge, from the days of the original National Road, which later became U.S. 40. And I took a picture (or so I thought). Anyway, here's a link at Wikipedia. (By the way, only with this bridge did I realize that when Wikipedia provides latitudinal and longitudinal coordinates, you can click on these and Google Maps will give you directions to that spot! Neat.) I did get a shot of the courthouse in St. Clairsville:

From here I drove north on U.S. 250. I stopped in Harrisville -- just inside Harrison County -- for this shot: 

From here I continued up to Cadiz (a local told me how to pronounce it: "CAT is"). I noticed this church, the Scott Memorial United Methodist Church:

If it's not clear, a lot of the church is underground, with just a narrow band of windows admitting light. I searched the website for more about the structure, but couldn't find it.

Here's the courthouse in Cadiz. I parked here and found a shop nearby for a sandwich.

From thence I continued northwest on U.S. 250, making for Tuscarawas County, past lovely Tappan Lake. Somewhere I read that all the lakes in Ohio -- apart from Lake Erie of course -- are man-made. My destination was Gnadenhutten, where a group of Indians, who had converted to the Moravian sect, were massacred; it seems they were mistaken for another band of Indians who had raided the area. Again, I thought I had photos of the burial site for those killed, but alas.

Here's a photo of the Moravian church in Gnadenhutten:

From here I made my way into Holmes County, a center for the Amish. But first I passed through Sugarcreek, locally termed the "Little Switzerland of Ohio," and home of the world's largest cukkoo clock; I arrived in time to hear it strike 2 pm:

(Here I want to note that many times I've taken video with my phone, unintentionally. On this occasion, when I wanted to film a video, I couldn't figure out how.) 

From here I made for Berlin, and the Amish and Mennonite Heritage Center. Fascinating fact: Amish represent 40 percent of Holmes County; and a majority of the residents speak either German or "Pennsylvania German"!

Both an inside and outside tour are offered at the heritage center; I signed up both; they are short.

Here's a mural on the outside of the center, depicting the Amish/Hutterite/Anabaptist immigrants arriving on these shores, thirsting for religious liberty:

Here's our guide (in red shirt) showing us the one room schoolhouse. First it was a public school, later an Amish school, now an exhibit. He told us many of these schools are still in use around the area; Amish children attend school through eighth grade.

Here's the barn, where they have an original Conestoga wagon which Amish would have driven across Pennsylvania to Ohio. He showed us the bucket that held the wheel grease; it still smelled of grease.

Here he showed us how the Amish "do" church: they don't have church buildings; instead, worship rotates from farm to farm, and this wagon carries the benches, hymnbooks and other supplies used by the congregation. One of the things he explained was that the austerities the Amish embrace -- such as not using electricity or owning automobiles -- are seen not as sinful, per se, but rather as things that threaten the integrity of their family life. Our guide told us his parents had been Amish, but switched to Mennonite. (Amish, German Baptist, Mennonite, and Brethren are all theological cousins belonging to the Anabaptist movement identified with Menno Simons).

After this came the inside tour, which involved a narrated tour of a massive circular mural named the "Behalt Cyclorama." Painted in 1992, it tells the story of the Amish and related groups from their beginnings in central Europe and their migration to many places around the world. Photos were not allowed, but go here for more about the mural. Given the origins of the movement, the narration wasn't exactly in line with Catholic belief; but I didn't think it would be winsome of me to argue with the gentleman every time he got history or Scripture wrong.

From here I drove south into Coshocton, my last county of the day. As I did, the near-mountains shifted to bigger, and then softer hills; this was more what people think of as Ohio. Here's the courthouse:

Then, on my way home, I passed through Newark; and I remembered, that's where Longaberger Baskets is headquartered. Here's their impressive, basket-shaped building, from the highway, at 70 mph:

After this, one more tour, back to the northeast, for the last four counties: Summit, Stark, Columbiana and Carroll. If all goes well, that will be at the end of the month. Stay tuned!

Project 88 update: two more counties

It's been pretty busy lately in the parish, although it's weird -- because it's not for any particular reason. It just seems like I've been getting more calls, and having more meetings and projects. Actually, I do know some of the reasons, but still it all seems to be hitting at once. So this will be a quick update on Project 88, my personal endeavor to visit all 88 counties in my home state of Ohio.

Some of my trips have involved going out on Sunday, staying overnight, and coming back the next day; that enables more. But last Sunday, I was looking forward to staying home, so I planned for a day trip Monday to Fairfield and Pickaway Counties. These are right in the center of Ohio, south and southeast of Columbus, our capital.

Since I was on a tight schedule, I took the Interstate all the way to Columbus, and turned south on U.S. 33 toward my first stop, Lockville, in Fairfield County. There's not much there, other than a park with several locks of the old Ohio and Erie Canal (not to be confused with the Miami and Erie, which passed north from Cincinnati all the way to Lake Erie, passing near where I live now). Here are some shots:

As I walked between these walls, I thought of how each of these stones was cut and shaped; such work!

This bridge was moved here, of course. It can be rented for picnics; there are tables nearby as well.

After this, I decided to investigate a place with a curious name: Lithopolis. On the way I passed some apple trees with their fruit being harvested . . .

. . . and a horse in a pasture. I wanted to get out and visit the horse, but I wondered if the owner would come along, and maybe the horse would object?

Lithopolis did indeed turn out to be interesting.

First, the war memorial, using lots of stone (lithos); the city was clearly a place where stone was quarried, although I didn't go looking for the quarry.

Across the street from the war memorial was this inviting sign; alas, the place was closed!

Then I noticed a store, and I went in to visit and maybe get something to drink. The store had water (75 cents! what a deal!); I asked about Coke Zero. "Oh, we have that, but she (referring to the unseen helper in the back) drinks it! We have Pepsi One." I stuck with water. Here's the friendly clerk:

I asked her about some signs I saw for "Honeyfest." Was it upcoming, or did I miss it? "You missed it, it was last weekend." There were bee keeping demonstrations and so forth! Sounded like fun. She also told me about the Wagnall Memorial which was just down the street, so I went there:

She explained this was in memory of Adam Wagnalls, who was part of the Funk and Wagnalls publishing company, which used to produce encyclopedias and dictionaries, among other books.  The clerk added that the books were printed there in Lithopolis at one time. I wanted to ask about the "mayonnaise jar" from the porch, but I lost my nerve. Anyway, here are two original Norman Rockwell paintings on display at the Wagnalls Memorial, which has a church attached, by the way:

The clerk also steered me toward the mill at Rock Mill, so I headed that way. I passed the Bloom Township offices, here they are:

Feeling a little peckish, I noticed this brewery -- maybe they had lunch? But it was closed:

And here was the mill, in Rock Mill. It is open for weekends for demonstrations, I think; but not open on Monday. I met a nice older couple looking around and we talked a bit.

Here's a view of the Hocking River, which powered the mill. You may not be able to tell from this photo, but it has high rock walls and the river spills down from an even narrower channel on the left.

Now it was time to head toward Pickaway County, which was named for a band of Shawnee Indians who used to live here. I meandered my way toward Marcy (right on the county line), where I found a store and restaurant in business since 1840. Here it is:

I ordered a burger and got a pop. "Do you have Coke Zero?" "Usually, but the truck hasn't arrived today." I settled for a diet Dr Pepper. While I waited, I noticed this display:

I took my lunch with me, planning to visit the working farm in nearby Slate Run Park. It was closed. I ate my lunch at the park, and decided to meander further. I found my way to Saint Paul, which seemed just a few homes grouped around a Lutheran church named . . . St. Paul. Here it is:

From there I wandered over toward a point on the map called "Little Chicago," near Ashville, but that turned out to be a bust. I am skipping over my unfortunate encounter with a tailgater -- nothing bad, actually amusing in a way, but no time. I passed through Commercial Point, where I saw this former IOOF hall -- that's the International Order of Odd Fellows, an esoteric fraternal organization something like the Freemasons. My great-grandfather was an Odd Fellow, and he's buried in their section at Cincinnati's Spring Grove. I have certainly seen many of their halls, some of which I've photographed for this tour. The IOOF still exists, with something like a quarter-million members worldwide.

From Commercial Point, I headed up toward Orient, where there is a massive "correctional institute." Sorry, no pictures -- it's illegal to take photos of Ohio prisons! From there I drove up toward London -- what a nice place, I should go back! -- but I was headed toward I-70 and home. Before I got on the interstate, I passed through Summerford, which was located right on U.S. 40, built on the old National Road. Here's another IOOF hall:

And here's a view of old U.S. 40, which might be built right on the National Road, that was so important in our nation's building:

That will have to do. That makes 71 counties, and if all goes well, I hope to pick up a few next week. Stay tuned!

The Eucharist is Jesus. We must risk offense and tell people what that means (Sunday homily)

In this Gospel, Jesus is very clear. And shocking.
To be his disciple, his follower, costs absolutely everything.
When he says “renounce” your possessions, 
that doesn’t mean do without them or walk away from them.

Rather, he means to treat what you own, as if you do not own it. 
It’s not your paycheck, from which you give Jesus 5 or 10%;
It is all his money which he entrusts to you to manage.

Most appalling is when he says, “take up your cross.” 
This is not a metaphor.
How do I make you feel the trauma of those words?
Imagine you are African-American, 
and people you know have been lynched, right in your home town; 
and Jesus says, “take up your rope and follow me.”

So: to follow Jesus is not a part-time hobby. 
Christianity isn’t for wimps or wusses.

So in that context, let me go back to my homily a few weeks ago, 
when I talked about the Most Holy Eucharist. 
I was very passionate. I got really excited. 
And I think I caused some discomfort.
For that I am sorry. Not for being passionate, 
but setting the dial at just the right spot 
between “boring” and “bombastic” is harder than you might think.

If you will recall what got me worked up 
was the news that 70% of all Catholics in this country don’t know, 
or don’t believe, the Eucharist IS Jesus. 
Further, some 37% of Catholics at Mass every week – every week! – 
similarly do not believe in the Eucharist, or don’t know.

This is not a minor thing. This is a catastrophe. 
This is an all-hands-on-deck moment.

So what do we do? 

I have seen people come forward for Holy Communion 
who clearly don’t know what is going on – 
which most likely means, they aren’t Catholic.
They take the Host, and they have no clue what to do.
When I see that, I will quietly say, “Are you Catholic?”
Or I will say, “you have to consume that, or give it back, please.”

This is awkward; I don’t want to embarrass people; 
but what else can I do?

Less often does this happen at Sunday Mass. 
More often at a funeral or a wedding. 

So I’ve decided I’m going to start including something in my homily 
on this matter at weddings and funerals. I’ve done this before, 
but from now on, I am going to try to do it every time.
But I know this won’t be enough.
I can give a ten-minute homily and people won’t get the message;
What are the odds a single 30-second announcement will do the trick?

So now I’m going to make an uncomfortable request; I’m sorry.

When your friends or family come with you to Mass, 
you must talk to them. And if you say, this is too much to ask, 
I refer you back to the words of Jesus you just heard!

It is true that some people take offense no matter what.
But Jesus didn’t let that stop him, nor should we.
Be polite; be loving; but be bold and clear – for the sake of Christ!
He comes first, before family, before everything!

That said, it isn’t necessarily true that people will be offended.
I was in South Korea many years ago, and my hosts 
took me to a Buddhist temple.
Most Koreans are Buddhists, although I was with fellow Catholics.

I did what any sensible person would do.
I asked, what is proper for me to do? What shouldn’t I do?
I wanted to show respect. Most people get this! Explain it that way.

Still, there’s a bigger question:
Why do we even care if people take Holy Communion who shouldn’t?
In fact, lots of people, lots of Catholics, really don’t care;
They figure, what’s the big deal?
If people act with innocent intent, is God angry? No.
So again, why not just let it go?

Suppose I invited you over to my house, and you met 20 or 30 people.
Then, after they left, I told you, one of those people 
was the Governor, or, one of those people was a top golfer, 
or one of the greatest professional dancers or musicians in the world.

And then you say to me: why didn’t you tell me? 
There are questions I’d have asked, things I’d have wanted to know?
I wish I had known I was meeting that person!

In the Eucharist, they are meeting the King of Kings!
Shouldn’t they know?
More than that, shouldn’t they be ready? 
Because it’s not just meeting Jesus, 
they are entering into communion with Jesus. 
And, more than that, they are entering into communion – 
into a covenant – with all of us. 
That’s why Catholics don’t receive communion in a Protestant church; 
and why we don’t invite non-Catholics to receive Holy Communion here.
Not because they are unworthy – ALL of us are unworthy! –
But rather, because they aren’t just uniting with Jesus,
But with the whole Catholic Church! 
That’s what “Holy Communion” means.

Shouldn’t our friends and visitors know what it means?
Who they are meeting? 
What a solemn act it is to eat his Flesh and drink his Blood?

Shouldn’t they also know what Jesus asks of them?
When did Jesus ever say, I invite you to have a casual, 
now-and-again relationship with me? He never said that.
Rather, he said: put aside everything and take up your cross!

What service are we doing our friends if we invite them 
to do the exact opposite of what Jesus said his disciples should do?

It is never my intention to give offense in a homily or any other time.
But if I’m not willing to risk offending you, then what does that say?

So I ask you, are you really looking out for your family and friends, 
if you don’t explain to them 
that the Holy Eucharist is not a “what” but a “Who”?
And not just any “who,” but the one who forgives sins 
and grants eternal life? The gate of heaven? Our only hope?

The Eucharist is Jesus; he is our King. Without this, we aren’t Catholic.
Jesus calls each of us to bear witness. 
Let’s take up the Cross together; together with Jesus!

Ohio State Band: pretty cool!

Father Fox's Special Salad: what do you think?

So here's a salad I made the other day for dinner:

This is a variation on a salad I make pretty regularly, using either Boston or Red Leaf lettuce (as in this case), tomatoes, avocado, hearts of palm, sometimes bell pepper, sometimes radish, usually bacon (but not in this case -- it would have a definite plus), and my own dressing which I will describe shortly. Since this was dinner, I ran to the store next door and got some chicken breasts, which I poached in Budweiser (because that's what I had handy, I figured it would add more flavor than water). After poaching, I cut up half a breast and seasoned the meat with salt and pepper.

Here's my dressing -- fair warning, the quantities are sketchy and you are warned to figure it out:

- Juice and pulp from half a lemon or a lime (the pulp is just extra, not critical)

- 2-3 tablespoons olive oil

- 1-2 tablespoons red wine vinegar (white vinegar will do in a pinch)

- 2-3 teaspoons of anchovy paste

- 2 teaspoons of garlic paste (the equivalent of fresh garlic is fine, but you may need want a little water or other liquid for the right consistency)

- 2 teaspoons grated parmesan or romano cheese

- generous amount of fresh ground pepper

- a good pinch of Kosher salt

- a few red pepper flakes if you want

All this gets stirred up into a reasonably smooth consistency and makes enough for two salads.

Yes, this is similar to Caesar dressing, but not the same; Caesar includes Dijon mustard and egg yolks, but no vinegar. I simply came up with this as something easy to put together, and which is pretty good even if some of the proportions shift (i.e., more of this, less of that). 

I've made this salad many times, so obviously I like it. Any suggestions? If you try my dressing, let me know what you think.

Who do you think you are? (Sunday homily)

When we are children, we all have those moments 
when we are trying to get mom or dad’s attention. 
Look, mom! Look! Look! Look!!

Of course, our parents want to look and see what we’re doing;
But they might be driving, or fixing dinner, 
or getting other work done, and they can’t always look. 
They might even get irritated.

But let me tell you something, and this is true no matter how young, 
or how old, you are: 
parents never stop wanting to look at their children. Never.

Last Sunday I had a baptism, and afterward, as I always do, 
I ask to hold the baby, the newly christened saint.

And there’s something that often happens: 
the baby that is peaceful and content 
in her mother or father’s embrace, 
slowly starts getting agitated and cries. 

Then, when I give the baby back, he’s calm again.
Why is that? Because in various ways, 
that infant recognizes her parents, but doesn’t recognize me.

There is a connection, that literally begins with conception, 
and is nourished a thousand ways from that point on; 
and whether we realize it or not, whether we acknowledge it or not, 
that connection with our parents, that love, 
sustains us and gives us peace and confidence. 

It makes us able to be complete people.  
Even decades later, when you and I become full adults, 
and seem to be on our own, that bond remains, and it is powerful.

On the other hand, if all that doesn’t happen in the way I describe: 
if there is some distance or rupture, if there is a wound?
That can be very painful, and it can have affects long after.

Many of us, as adults, have had to find healing for those wounds.

The point I am making is that what happens on this natural plain, 
also happens on the supernatural level.

In the Gospel, Jesus describes a scene: 
people are jostling for the best seats. 
It’s not that they are most comfortable places; 
it’s that they are closest to the host of the party; the big-shot.

Jesus might as easily have been talking about 
someone trying to impress the boss; 
or in school, when certain kids seem to be cool, 
so they’re the ones you want to hang out with.

But if I have a good relationship with my boss, I can relax; 
I don’t have to impress him. 
And the point of the Gospel is, 
if you have a good relationship with Jesus, then what else matters?

Who cares where you sit? How you dress?
So what if you go to your 20 year reunion, and you’ve put on weight, 
Your hair is thinking, and you don’t have an impressive job?

Look at what you and I are doing, right now: we’re at Holy Mass.
We are going to have an audience with the King of Kings, almighty God!
He’s going to be here, right here, in our midst, on this altar!

Nothing else comes even close to that!

I hope you go to our festival, I hope you have a good time – 
and spend a lot of money! – but this, here, is so much more important!
There’s no comparison.

Our relationship with Jesus is our treasure.
If there’s a wound, we can fix it immediately in confession.
How good Jesus is to us! 

If you get crosswise with your boss, or your spouse, 
or your neighbors, that can be hard to put right.
But when we commit mortal sins, what does Jesus do?
Kick us out? Say, “I’m done with you?”
No, he invites us, he prays for us, to seek him out in confession.

It is such a great gift, that sometimes we take it for granted.

Why do we try to impress other people? 
The boss? A girl or a guy we’re interested in? Relatives?
Why do we envy what other people have? Their good looks or talents? 
Their youth? Their opportunities or advantages?
It all boils down to one thing, really: whether you and I are at peace. 
Peace with what we have and who we are.

What you and I have is Jesus. Who we are is his friends.
That can and will be ours forever! What else do we need?