One day, my daughter started talking about Pere Marquette. I assume
she learned of him during Michigan history classes in grade school.
The peerless Pere has always caught my imagination. So I was showering
Saturday morning, late already for picking her up for vacation. And I
have runs of thoughts in the morning that are not under conscious
control. Shouldn't we "visit" Pere Marquette when in Ludington,
driving to the shrine established on hill between the river that bears
his name and Lake Michigan. The shrine stands on the legendary site of
Marquette's passing. His body traveled by Indian cortege to its final
resting place in St. Ignace, MI. My daughter had been to Mackinaw Island, where Marquette served as
missionary. She had enjoyed the mural of Marquette in downtown
Ludington too. In the end, she insisted we go before we had our
dinner. My older brother received all the Catholic education before my
parents joined the Lutheran Church, so I remember times when he talked
about Christian saints as if they were best friends. He is now married
to a partner who has a research collection on the lives of the saints
worth thousands of dollars, kept in a special library in their home.
Back in the day, he thought nothing of creating and decorating a
shrine in our back yard. I helped. For my daughter's great grandmother, going to Pere Marquette's shrine
would be tantamount to knocking on the Peerless Pere's door and asking
for tea and conversation. I remember taking my daughter to a Grotto on
grounds of Orchard Lake Saint Mary's. I had taken my daughter to more
than one labyrinth, as a spiritual exercise, too. We also toured the
chapel at Manresa on Woodward and kept silence inside. We had gone to
Renaissance Unity to hear the great Marianne Williams share, as her
sermons during services were called, "Marianne's Share". At the grotto, a woman saw her approach the altar, a woman who had
been praying, grieving. Her child was ill. Believing that God would
notice a child at the shrine, she asked my daughter to toss a coin
into the fountain there. And I encouraged my daughter to carry out
this wish. If my daughter was fighting a terminal illness, I might be
moved to make the same request. What if Pere Marquette, working his
way up to Beatification, could keep an eye on my daughter as she made
her inevitable travels. I was always answering back these thoughts,
"But are you not a logical positivist, a secular humanist?" Isn't this
as much an abdication of responsibility as singing, "Jesus, take the
wheel" and not counter steering? We drove back to Ludington proper and I shared these thoughts with
her. My daughter attends church on some weekends and week nights with
her friends, one of those more modern Christian churches with
multi-media presentations and great musical ministries.
We stopped by Old Hamlin, where we had dined a year before, the night
before we boarded the Badger. The Old Hamlin looks like a German
restaurant, but it is run by a Greek-American family with three
generations of experience. It is probably called the Old Hamlin in
honor of the man - made lake north of town called Hamlin Lake, made by
restricting the flow of the Big Sable river towards Lake Michigan. She
ordered the salmon, which surprised me, but it's a good diet choice. I
ordered the young broiled chicken, and turned away the gravy. The
chicken could have used it. We were told to check in our car at 7:30
at the ferry docks. We ate with unnecessary speed because only 10 - 20
cars boarded the Badger. I think I counted no more than 20 people on
the entire ship, our private cruise. We strolled through the two photography stores of the Reed family,
and these stunning images transfixed her and I didn't like moving her
along, thinking we could be denied boarding. We had time to note
images from their one photo a day series, one including the cross and
clouds of Pere Marquette's shrine. I reminded the daughter that a
photographer up in Leland MI had posted a photograph a day upon his
website since September 11, 2001. As we pulled away from dock, the steam whistle of the Badger blew
farewell. I guess I should give her kudos for being a thoughtful
parent, but a woman had made her son wear earplugs? She wanted to know
if the horn would blow again and I answered her without irony, "just
before we dock, and periodically if we are sailing through fog". As
for me, and I am considering a hearing aid, let that steam whistle
blow. I love it as much as loud rock and roll. Some fresh young man on
the Ludington South Breakwater, a shorter one, shouted out to my
daughter, "I love you", and for a second I thought he was balancing on
a low rock, ready to jump in and swim after our ship. On the North
Breakwater, I couldn't count the number of people on the pier's end.
Literally, if a person fell over, several would be knocked in the
drink like dominos.
she learned of him during Michigan history classes in grade school.
The peerless Pere has always caught my imagination. So I was showering
Saturday morning, late already for picking her up for vacation. And I
have runs of thoughts in the morning that are not under conscious
control. Shouldn't we "visit" Pere Marquette when in Ludington,
driving to the shrine established on hill between the river that bears
his name and Lake Michigan. The shrine stands on the legendary site of
Marquette's passing. His body traveled by Indian cortege to its final
resting place in St. Ignace, MI. My daughter had been to Mackinaw Island, where Marquette served as
missionary. She had enjoyed the mural of Marquette in downtown
Ludington too. In the end, she insisted we go before we had our
dinner. My older brother received all the Catholic education before my
parents joined the Lutheran Church, so I remember times when he talked
about Christian saints as if they were best friends. He is now married
to a partner who has a research collection on the lives of the saints
worth thousands of dollars, kept in a special library in their home.
Back in the day, he thought nothing of creating and decorating a
shrine in our back yard. I helped. For my daughter's great grandmother, going to Pere Marquette's shrine
would be tantamount to knocking on the Peerless Pere's door and asking
for tea and conversation. I remember taking my daughter to a Grotto on
grounds of Orchard Lake Saint Mary's. I had taken my daughter to more
than one labyrinth, as a spiritual exercise, too. We also toured the
chapel at Manresa on Woodward and kept silence inside. We had gone to
Renaissance Unity to hear the great Marianne Williams share, as her
sermons during services were called, "Marianne's Share". At the grotto, a woman saw her approach the altar, a woman who had
been praying, grieving. Her child was ill. Believing that God would
notice a child at the shrine, she asked my daughter to toss a coin
into the fountain there. And I encouraged my daughter to carry out
this wish. If my daughter was fighting a terminal illness, I might be
moved to make the same request. What if Pere Marquette, working his
way up to Beatification, could keep an eye on my daughter as she made
her inevitable travels. I was always answering back these thoughts,
"But are you not a logical positivist, a secular humanist?" Isn't this
as much an abdication of responsibility as singing, "Jesus, take the
wheel" and not counter steering? We drove back to Ludington proper and I shared these thoughts with
her. My daughter attends church on some weekends and week nights with
her friends, one of those more modern Christian churches with
multi-media presentations and great musical ministries.
We stopped by Old Hamlin, where we had dined a year before, the night
before we boarded the Badger. The Old Hamlin looks like a German
restaurant, but it is run by a Greek-American family with three
generations of experience. It is probably called the Old Hamlin in
honor of the man - made lake north of town called Hamlin Lake, made by
restricting the flow of the Big Sable river towards Lake Michigan. She
ordered the salmon, which surprised me, but it's a good diet choice. I
ordered the young broiled chicken, and turned away the gravy. The
chicken could have used it. We were told to check in our car at 7:30
at the ferry docks. We ate with unnecessary speed because only 10 - 20
cars boarded the Badger. I think I counted no more than 20 people on
the entire ship, our private cruise. We strolled through the two photography stores of the Reed family,
and these stunning images transfixed her and I didn't like moving her
along, thinking we could be denied boarding. We had time to note
images from their one photo a day series, one including the cross and
clouds of Pere Marquette's shrine. I reminded the daughter that a
photographer up in Leland MI had posted a photograph a day upon his
website since September 11, 2001. As we pulled away from dock, the steam whistle of the Badger blew
farewell. I guess I should give her kudos for being a thoughtful
parent, but a woman had made her son wear earplugs? She wanted to know
if the horn would blow again and I answered her without irony, "just
before we dock, and periodically if we are sailing through fog". As
for me, and I am considering a hearing aid, let that steam whistle
blow. I love it as much as loud rock and roll. Some fresh young man on
the Ludington South Breakwater, a shorter one, shouted out to my
daughter, "I love you", and for a second I thought he was balancing on
a low rock, ready to jump in and swim after our ship. On the North
Breakwater, I couldn't count the number of people on the pier's end.
Literally, if a person fell over, several would be knocked in the
drink like dominos.
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