Religion and Faith

Standing Tall for the Odalen Church

editor — Fri, 22 Aug 2008 17:19:06 -0700

An 80-foot cross marks where the historic Odalen Church once stood,
near Edinburg, N.D.
Photo: David Monson

Last June, fire took the Odalen Church, outside Edinburg, North Dakota, the last public building in this Norwegian community "at the end of the coulee." The historic church six miles from town was lost just weeks before Edinburg's 125th anniversary celebration, but the community soldiered (and danced) on.

Dave Monson, who sent us the unforgorgettable photos of the church fire a year ago, has been in contact again -- with a picture of the 80-foot steel cross the community commissioned. It was installed two weeks ago amid the pioneer gravestones, where "The Church by the Lake" used to be.

The fire "was a terrible blow," writes Dave's sister Rita Mielke. She says that the community raised $40,000 for the steel cross -- "a landmark, as was the steeple of Odalen" -- and will raise another $17,000 to illuminate it. "We think this tribute to our Norwegian ancestors and immigrants will also honor the state of North Dakota." Odalen Lutheran Church was on the National Historic Register.

To learn more about Edinburg and its effort, see the community's website.

Speak Your Piece: My Own 'Big Sort'

editor — Tue, 5 Aug 2008 16:18:44 -0700

When lifestyles clash, even a well-intentioned guest may lose his cool
Image: via Hot Diggety Blog

“If you want, my Aunt Vicky and my Uncle John are having a cookout at their house, then we can go see the fireworks downtown.”

That was the proposal from my girlfriend, Kami, for what sounded like a lovely way to spend the 4th of July holiday in her hometown of Mansfield, one of Ohio's 60 billion mid-sized cities.

In retrospect, we probably should have just gone to the Mansfield Cinemark and watched Ed Norton try and redeem the Incredible Hulk movie franchise with his 2008 version. Marvel botched the first adaptation since the Lou Ferrigno days, in 2002. Besides, you've seen one fireworks show you've seen them all, right?

The cookout, however, seemed like a great opportunity to meet her family, and while I can take or leave fireworks, I've never shied away from hamburgers and hot dogs.

We've all heard the old adage: You don't discuss two things -- religion and politics. I had no idea how these two themes would dominate this Independence Day.

St. John Picnic: Follow That Tuba

editor — Sat, 5 Jul 2008 18:21:57 -0700

The biggest thing that ever hit St John, Texas, was a rainstorm on June 24 back in the 1940s. It didn’t damage anything, but sufficed to move the date of the church picnic from the feast day of St. John the Baptist to ten days later -- July the 4th. Ever since, the Independence Day celebration here has been a double-whammy event, a homecoming to the tiny Catholic parish and a patriotic blowout, Czech-American style. (There’s nothing quite like “Anchors Aweigh” played by a polka band.)

Backyard Burial ~ What a Way to Go

editor — Tue, 13 May 2008 09:18:09 -0700

Wisteria, spring 2008, Blacksburg, Virginia
Photo: Jennifer Schwanke

When you’ve reached a certain age and leave a place you’ve loved, keeping in touch with friends left behind can involve as much heartache as pleasure. Deaths become a depressing staple of the news they pass along. And given that the place I left a little more than three years ago is Blacksburg, Virginia, there’s been awfully much in that category to report, most of it inspiring as much bafflement as heartache.

Even before last spring’s massacre at Virginia Tech, there was the still-unfathomable rampage by a young local named William Morva. I didn’t know Cho Seung-Hui or any of his victims, but I did know William. Blacksburg’s a small town and I was a regular at the same downtown coffee shop he haunted. I talked to him often. He charmed my toddler daughter. He had some strange ways noticeable even to her; she once wondered aloud why she had to put on her shoes before going out to play when had we both witnessed William strolling barefoot in a snowstorm. But harmless eccentricities were all they seemed to be.

Then William went bad crazy. First he got himself locked up in the local jail for attempted burglary. One night a while later he allegedly gunned down a hospital security guard during an escape. The next morning, the first day of Tech’s fall semester, he allegedly ambushed and killed a local deputy searching for him along a nature trail near campus. He cowered in the woods until he was caught hours later, but not before Tech went on lockdown and rumors swirled about a gunman taking hostages in various campus buildings.

Only months later, of course, that very situation would come eerily to pass.

Considering all that, the news in January of the death of my friend Trev Smith’s 73-year old mother Dawn came as a kind of relief. It wasn’t a happy occasion but it was expected, and peaceful. And if not for a rich vein of self-sufficiency pumping through at least a couple of generations of the Smith family, it might even have been ordinary.

But it wasn’t ordinary at all, at least not by modern American standards.

Rural Route Church

editor — Sun, 13 Apr 2008 09:39:37 -0700

Pastor Waddey of Cottage Grove, Tennessee, sips sweet tea, visits the nursing home, and grills the candidates on preferred color of pickups (red or green?).