Benedictines, Trappists, Truman and Burnt Ends.

Well. That was….quick. And full. And yes, fun.

The older of the two children I have living at home is now a junior, so we’re starting to think about college. He is perfectly satisfied – as am I – with choices here in Alabama, but Benedictine College entered our radar a few months ago as we searched for a strong Catholic college that might – just might – have an engineering program as well.

Enter Benedictine. 

Their open house was this past weekend (although you can visit any time and they have other “Raven Days” for prospective students throughout the year), so I made the executive decision that we’d go. Yes, it’s early, but I just figured that at this point, this is the primary out-of-state possibility, so we might as well check it out now – so that if he didn’t like it, we wouldn’t have to think about it any more.

It’s a hike from here, but in terms of driving time, no longer than Williamsburg, where my daughter went to school. Just in the other direction. And, I’ll venture, a more interesting direction. In that, there’s more to do on the way – I mean, Charlotte is fine, but on the way to Atchison sit Nashville, St. Louis and Kansas City (or Memphis if you go another, longer way), in addition to sights in between.

He didn’t want to miss more than one day of school, so we left Thursday after school and drove – part of the way through a really dreadful line of storms – to O’Fallon, which is on the west side of St. Louis. That was the least fun part of the trip. Leaving at 3:30, arriving at 11:30, driving through what seems to be a hosing from the gods? Not my favorite drive.

A new day!

Up the next morning to do the rest of the way – about 3.5 hours – to Atchison.

Entering Kansas for the first time in 45 years, I guess.

See, I spent a good chunk of my childhood in Kansas. My father taught at KU in Lawrence from 1968-1973. For those years – the ages 8-13 – Kansas City was “the big city” for me. I was a huge Royals fan during the Brett/Piniella era – listened to games on the radio and everything, which is hard for me to imagine today.  Listen to baseball? On the radio? Really? But I did. And my dad did take me to a couple of Royals games – my first MLB games (not that I’ve been any kind of baseball fan since…if I watch anything it’s basketball, which is also rooted in those years of being taken to Jayhawks games…). Every year we’d do Christmas shopping in Kansas City – perhaps in Country Club Plaza? I don’t know. All I know is that I was interested to return to the area, not to relive memories or see familiar sites – because there are none left in my memory except for the stadiums – but simply because, well, we might be drawing a circle of sorts here, and those circles of life always intrigue me.

But this is a different place:

I was impressed. We are a good while away from any kind of decision, but I would be very supportive of him going to Benedictine. A strong Catholic identity, a balanced understanding of young adults, and what seems to be a very interesting, growing engineering program, in which excellence is pursued, along with a strong grounding in the Catholic intellectual tradition.

There are numerous Catholic colleges that have added programs in the name of expanding, reaching out and diversifying, but hardly any of them keep actual Catholic formation and identity at the center as they do so – it’s really all about getting bodies in the seats and keeping the ledgers in the black. Not here, it seems to me. There’s a huge gap in American Catholic higher education, a place for strong professional programs of this type to take root and grow, serving students who seek to be formed both in their fields and in their faith.

So we’ll see!

We were at Benedictine all afternoon, and we saw pretty early that it wouldn’t be necessary for us to stay for Saturday’s session – it was basically a repeat of Friday, with additional programming being mostly of interest to present high school seniors. That wasn’t us – we were just checking things out and discerning a vibe. By Friday early evening, we’d done that, felt good about it…

….so it was down to Kansas City for the evening..

But first a stop to take a look at the exterior, at least, of the home of Atchison’s most famous citizen:

My only goal for the Kansas City leg was some Kansas City  barbecue, which we attempted to find – but it was Friday night and so all the popular places near our hotel had very long waits. And I was tired of driving, and didn’t want to poke around Kansas City in a rental van.  We put our name down on a list in a place in Country Club Plaza – the wonderful area designed in the 20’s – the first American shopping area expressly designed to accomodate the automobile, and bearing lovely Spanish design modeled after Seville.

As we walked around, waiting for our time, we came to a movie theater…and can we see the Thor movie? 

Sure. Why not. It’s vacation, sort of. So Thor was endured watched, someone else got our seat at the barbecue place and so the boys got some quick, good, late night burgers at Winstead’s  after the movie instead.

Having Mom let you wander into the movies at the spur of the moment and then take you for burgers at 11pm is probably more memorable than Kansas City Barbecue anyway, when you’re 12 and 16.

Now that I know about Country Club Plaza’s origins, the design of the Embassy Suites makes sense to me:

It’s not quite as gracious as the Plaza, but a bit of well-meaning kitschy fun.

I had offered, in some fit of temporary insanity, that we see about maybe going to the Mizzou-Gator game – being played in Columbia at 11am on Saturday , about 2 hours away from KC and on the way to St. Louis  – but the Gator fan just shook his head sadly at the suggestion and said, “Why would I want to go watch that mess?”

Wise man. 

So instead, we got out of the hotel about 10, and drove up to the WWI Liberty Memorial – didn’t do the museum, just walked around the memorial. The two sphinxes at the memorial are both covering their eyes – the one facing east (Europe) because of the horrors of war and the one facing west (representing fresh starts) because you can’t know what the future holds.

Because you can’t.

 

Then a quick turn around Union Station, with the added attraction of lectures about mass transit and interstates and tradeoffs and the beauty of older public spaces. Just call me the Fun Mom.

Then…to Independence.

I think I had been taken to the Truman library as a child, although it might have been the Eisenhower. Or both. I don’t know. Anyway, here we were. It’s a good museum- very instructive that Truman never attended college, which prompts more Fun Mom pep talks about being in control of your own education….

I do wonder why they seem to keep enjoying going on trips with me. The milkshakes and movies, no doubt.

The special exhibit on the renovation of the White House during Truman’s term was a revelation. I had no idea the building was essentially about to collapse.

Then…finally…barbecue! Not exactly in Kansas City, but close enough. I had the signature KC barbecue dish, Burnt Ends – charred chunks of brisket ends – WOW. It was fabulous. I might even say a revelation. Enjoyed here. 

We then settled in for the drive to St. Louis. Arrived just in time to check into the Drury Inn and Suites and then dash across the street to the Old Cathedral for Mass. We got there at about 5:37, and they were almost done with the Gospel.

On the way to Mass…inside the church….Lewis and Clark in the lobby of the Drury Inn and Suites. 

We then walked several blocks, through an outdoor sculpture garden (no photos of rabbits, but there were several, which echoed their previous memory of St. Louis – our last trip a few years ago in which we were constantly running across rabbits near the Arch) to the City Museum. 

I don’t have a lot of photos because the most entertaining elements are caves and outdoor catwalks and it wasn’t that important for me struggle to get photos in the half-light. But if you don’t know about the City Museum, you can read about it here. This was our third visit, stretching over probably eight years, which means people are growing older…but the place is still one where they can really have fun. It’s open until midnight on Fridays and Saturdays, which is GENIUS, especially considering they have a couple of bars – one inside and one outside, amidst all the high-flying catwalks – so that parents have no hesitation in bringing the kids and letting them run wild on a weekend evening.

We stayed until about 10:30.

Up Sunday morning, with one last stop on the way home – the Cahokia Mounds. You can read about them here – the largest ancient city north of Mexico. (I can’t say “in North America” because I will be quickly corrected – if I were speaking to the resident expert – because “Mexico is in North America, Mom!”)

The usual excellent interpretive center – quite extensive. We didn’t walk through the whole park, only taking in the largest mound, which is called “Monks’ Mound,” and once again…in the places I least expect it…there are Catholics.

This largest mound is called what it is because in the early 19th century, Trappists, exiled from France, made their way over and eventually built a small monastery on one of the mounds – and planted gardens on one of the terraces of this one.

Now, you know about me and rabbit holes. Here’s one for you, and I invite you to join me. It’s an article from the 1925 Records of the American Catholic Historical Society – a thorough examination of the life, journeys and ministry of the leader of the Trappist foundation, one Dom Urban Guillet. 

It’s lengthy, but fascinating. Guillet joined the Trappists at a young age, was sent to Hungary, then ended up in America where he attempted foundation after foundation, “failing” at every turn. The Illinois foundation was eventually done in by the toll of disease on its members.

But in between, as the article relates, are intriguing tidbits about the lives of these men and what attempting to set up shop in this country entailed – everything from petitioning Congress for a land grant to making watches:

Notice. — Several persons having showed to the monks of La Trappe a desire to purchase watches, if they would sell them trade, the said monks in order to satisfy everybody, give notice to the public that until the end of the year 1811 they will sell watches, clocks, and other silversmith’s work, and also fine horses, for the following articles in trade, viz.: wheat, corn, linen, beef, pork, cattle, leather, tallow, blankets, etc.

“Urbain Guillet, 
“Superior of the Monks, 
“Cantine Mounds, •nine miles above Cahokia.”

“N. B. — The above-mentioned articles will be sold at a lower price to whoever shall pay cash.”

(Dickens passed through the Cahokia mounds on an American journey and made disparaging remarks about the “fanatic” monks who were no longer around – and whose presence, he suggested, was probably not missed….)

Well.

There’s a lot of poignancy in the story of Dom Guillet, but perhaps the most poignant  has to do not with his suffering and frustration on the mission trail, but with his mother.

Dom Guillet’s mother was Creole, from San Domingo. She had birthed him in France, then returned to the island to settle an estate….during which time her son grew through childhood into young manhood, joined the Trappists, was driven from France, traveled the world….

…and so when, after years of missionary activity, and after Napoleon was out of the picture, Dom Guillet returned to France to stay for a time in his brother’s house…he met his mother for the first time since his infancy….

She died soon after, and he died two years later.

*****

I had thought we might stop at the Parthenon in Nashville on the way back – neither of them have ever seen it – but then we got to the point at which I was presented with the choice….be home in 2 1/2 hours….or be home in four hours, if we stop. 

Time to go home. The Parthenon isn’t going anywhere.

I don’t think.