Grandma's Wisdom

A wise, older priest once told me that it is never a good idea to make people do math in the middle of a homily. He cautioned against doing what I’m about to do, but this is not a homily. There was a summer evening in 1973, when I was 12 years old. [Go ahead, do the math! If you answered “born in ‘61 and now 50 years old,” way to go!] It was the first summer that I was allowed to stay in North Dakota after our family vacationed there, near the town of Rugby. My older brother Michael and I were “hired hands” on the farm and it turned out to be a graced opportunity in that our Grandfather died the following winter. The farm was still a great experience after that, but obviously not the same. One evening, as the sun was setting, our Grandmother Elizabeth was out in the garden and she scurried back into the house. I recall that I was watching the Minnesota Twins on television and my Grandfather was snoring away on the couch. Grandma interrupted us both and told us to step outside. She had an urgency about her that was unusual. We did, indeed, go outside and she pointed out the brilliant sunset. She wouldn’t have used the word brilliant, but she wanted us to be there to take in the sight. My Grandpa asked what all the fuss was about, he would have used the word fuss, and she mentioned again the beautiful sunset. He said, “It’s just another sunset.” Then he returned into the house. When he was out of earshot, because she respected him too much to disagree in public, she turned to me and whispered, “He’s wrong.”

As one travels down the Oregon Coast, whether by foot or any other way, there are often brilliant vistas; so much so that one might be inclined to say, “It’s just another beach or outcropping of rocks or array of scenery.” And, of course, my Grandmother would properly whisper, “You’re wrong.” Today’s journey, all 11 miles, covered the area from Lincoln Beach (south of Lincoln City) to Moolack Beach (north of Newport). Right in the middle of this stretch is Otter Crest which, sadly, didn’t have an elevation marker at the top of the pass. It didn’t feel like the 752 feet north of Neskowin, but I wasn’t at sea level anymore either. As has been true over the first week or so now, it was a delightful climb and I was grateful for the walking stick (by the way, thanks for the early entries in the “name the stick” contest). Below are a few of the vistas to behold between Lincoln Beach and Newport.

Boiler Bay

Boiler Bay with Waterfall

Whale Cove

Beverly Beach

Otter Crest

One of the other “vistas” which stirred up a few memories today was found in Depoe Bay. Nearly 30 years ago, I visited Depoe Bay with some friends from the seminary. We arrived on a Friday evening and found out that a place called The Sea Hag offered a Friday Night Seafood Buffet. Well, we were tired of the usual offerings at the seminary cafeteria (I hear the name has been changed to “refectory” now, perhaps indicating that the food is better), so we were intrigued by the thought of a wide variety of any food, especially seafood. Five and a half hours later, we decided we’d better find where our lodgings were . . . or just plan to help open The Sea Hag for breakfast the next day. I don’t recall ever telling and hearing so many stories, laughing until I almost fell out of the booth, nor making so many trips to the buffet. About every hour or so, they would announce a whole new assortment of food, maybe the same type of seafood, but cooked a different way. Obviously, we repeatedly said, “Never had that before -- might as well try it!” [Editorial note: There may have been a few adult beverages shared that night, but let’s not let that steal the memory of growing friendships which, as I said, are now going on 30 years!]

The Scene of the Crime

The Sea Hag Restaurant

With those priest-friendships in mind, and I was thinking about them before arriving in Depoe Bay, I dedicated myself to praying for the priests of our Archdiocese today and for our seminarians, too. Our priests were on retreat this week at Mt. Angel Abbey and I missed having a chance to be with them in a direct and personal way; being with them in prayer, however, was fulfilling. May the good and holy St. John Vianney, patron of parish priests, be generous in helping us be good shepherds.

When stopping at a store today to get some water, at the beginning of the walk, the clerk asked if I was going “hiking” today. I wasn’t sure how much of the story she needed to hear, so I mentioned 300 miles and 1^st Way and the 11 miles that awaited me today. Her response was, “Alone? That must be lonely.” Well, at least she didn’t say, “That must be boring!” The fact is that there is a big difference between being alone and being lonely, at least in my experience. I have what I often describe as “an inner monk” inside of me who longs for silence and solitude. It would be difficult to be a parish priest if silence and solitude were all that I longed for, as you can imagine. Nonetheless, I nurture that introverted part of me and the retreat part of this Pilgrimage has been a generous blessing from God. There is a quote which has been credited to many people over the years, but I think it’s true that the novelist and poet Leon Bloy first said it: “Joy is the most infallible sign of the presence of God.” Even when the stresses and strains of parish life are evident and even when tired soles and aching shins are constant features on this journey, I am glad to testify that my days, these days, are filled with joy. If anyone were to tell me otherwise, I would say with at least a whisper, “You’re wrong!”

Rhodies at Lincoln Beach

My friend and helper for the first 10 days of the Pilgrimage, Paul Swadener, is going to take a break for a few days and return to Eugene. Please pray for his safe travel. Meanwhile, my sister Paula and her husband David are going to accompany me into next week. We will be camping together near Waldport, but maintaining the 10-15 miles a day as far as walking goes. We will be looking for internet access, but please be patient if the posts are fewer or shorter until I get to Florence by the end of next week. I’ll be telling you Eugene followers when I will be in Florence and Reedsport. Some of you have asked about those dates. For now, peace!

Should Read:

"Next 200 Miles!"