Maximizing the plenitude of PTO provided by Pfizer, I put together a seven-day vacation centered upon the Upper Mississippi River. It is an area I enjoyed immensely when driving semi-truck over-the-road. I also spent time in the area with Father David Mary and the Franciscans when we visited the seminary at the University of Saint Mary in Winona. Four states: Illinois, Iowa, Minnesota, and Wisconsin were explored. The cities included: the Quad Cities, Muscatine, Dubuque, Prairie du Chien, La Crosse, and Winona. I know the Great River Road—a route traveling from the origins of the Mississippi in Minnesota down to its eventual end in Louisiana is popular with driving tourists, especially Harley riders, yet I did not stick to the route, following a randomness and highways I vaguely remembered: Illinois Hwy 84, Iowa Hwy 52, Wisconsin Hwy 35, and Minnesota Hwy 14.
Photos galleries will be posted soon.
Throughout the week, I traveled up and down the Great River, exploring several routes after starting in the Quad Cities, going south to Muscatine, then north to Winona, then back south to La Crosse and eventually a return to Dubuque via Prairie du Chien, landing at Our Lady of the Mississippi Abbey. Unfortunately, I did not make it to Red Wing, Minnesota. One drive was a late-night excursion in which I saw basically nothing. The delay causing the late-night driving occurred due to the extensive hiking trails in the exceptional Mines of Spain south of Dubuque. I planned on an hour or so of hiking yet ended up spending over four hours wandering. Afterwards driving through the night, my goal was simply not to fall asleep while intent upon waking in Winona, conceding to a hotel room, stalling tent sleeping at the Prairie Island campground. The Great River Shakespeare festival at Winona State University was my intent. The annual theatrical endeavor was the foundation in which I built my vacation upon.
I saw three plays, two by Shakespeare: ‘Winters Tale’, and ‘As You Like it’, as well as local playwright Melissa Maxwell’s ‘Imbroglio’. The final play I was highly impressed with. The message I perceived: ‘our true battle being internal’ is a profound and difficult one. Memorable moments of the theater festival included the following. In ‘Winter’s Tale’, the young son Mamillius accomplished with the delightful use of a mesmerizing puppet manipulated and voiced by a charming actress. Overall, the festival’s use of females to play male roles, turning the table on the traditional Shakespearean theater proved intriguing—mixing well with Shakespeare toying with Rosalind disguising herself as a male as she flees to the Ardennes Forest. Respecting both male and female natures, the duality of genders was rousingly explored throughout the Shakespeare performances. Also, in ‘As You Like It’, the Great River theatrical troupe had an actress playing the male fool Touchstone, while his romantic pursuit was transformed into a role clownishly embraced by a stupid hunk. I was not sold on the Touchstone effort, yet there was a boldness that had to be admired. Overall, I think ‘Winter’s Tale’, a simple epic grounded in the destructiveness of jealousy, while providing hope in the form of a transformative reality based upon love, is a difficult play to do wrong. On the other hand, the comical free-spirited multi-character romp, ‘As You Like It’, I am convinced, is a difficult play to pull off. The Great River theater troupe did achieve some unique moments in ‘As You Like it’. The wrestling scene was a comical unforgettable event. The seasoned actor who played Charles the master wrestler did an outstanding job. In Ms. Maxwell’s play ‘Imbroglio’, the actors playing the lead and the antagonist gave memorable performances. The lead male character, Herman, I found highly impressive. His embracing of his character struggling with mental illness left a lasting impression. Overall, the actors, actresses, and artistic directors (Ms. Maxwell one) were an appealing bunch—devout, enthusiastic, and dedicated to the festival.
As a Minnesota small city, Winona proved comfortable and entertaining, easy to explore on a bicycle. While camping at Prairie Island, I was able to wake in the morning, bathe in the Mississippi before hoping on my bike and heading downtown. Bicycling, I passed wonderful lush green waterways, marshes, a bridge to Wisconsin, plus industrial grain mills connecting the river to railroad tracks. Forested bluffs envelope Winona’s quaint downtown. There is a light and easy vacation, plus collegiate, atmosphere. Folks leisurely mill about, while conversation is invited and easy to come by.
The Minnesota Marine Art Museum (MMAM) sat conveniently upon my bicycle route. Museums and Art galleries, always a favorite pastime, proved meaningful throughout my Upper Mississippi River time. The impressive MMAM is a must experience for anyone traveling through the area. I spoke with the two MMAM greeters, extending my praises, informing them of my recent Manhattan visit and the Hispanic Society Museum. I was convinced the Spanish artist Joaquin Sorolla would fit nicely into their theme of artistic expression concentrated upon water. Both museums possessed a similar refined high-quality ambiance—obviously educated and intelligent curators who knew what they were doing. Also connecting the MMAM to my NYC visit, a current exhibit: The Poetry of Nature—Hudson River School Landscapes from the New York Historical Society brought immense pleasure when I was able to recall my recent ferrying across the Hudson River. I have also been reading Tocqueville’s ‘Democracy in America’ which aligns nicely with the exhibit’s time period.
I would like to point out two other museums of high worth. First, dipping south of the Quad Cities on the Iowa side to the small town of Muscatine. I thoroughly enjoyed the Muscatine Art Center (MAC). A sheer delight. The MAC offered a plentitude of exhibits: Birds in Art, Iowa Watercolor Society, life on the Mississippi, Iowa life, plus buttons. The small Iowa city was once known as the Pearl Button Capital of the World. A former mansion, the MAC provides a view into the life of a wealthy Iowa family during the ending of the nineteenth century. I was disappointed to find a similar historical gem, the Louis Villa mansion in Prairie du Chien, Wisconsin closed. Even with the mansion closed, Prairie du Chien proved a worthy island stop. There is an extensive waterside park—including the quaint Mississippi Statue Garden, as well as several historical buildings, one turned into a restaurant/bar, as well as railroad tracks and informative plaques.
The second museum that left a lasting impression was the Figge Art Museum in Davenport, Iowa (Quad Cities). I would like to point out Davenport was named after an early military founder. The name has nothing to do with the Davenport Furniture company (New England), nor furniture in general—a sofa or a British desk. The Figge is a high dollar cosmopolitan museum. Highly visible from across the Mississippi River, it is truly a landmark. Memorable for myself was the driftwood horse, the Grant Wood Collection (creator of the iconic American Gothic–pitchfork farmer couple painting), a harsh wind dark themed depression era painting being observed extensively by an elderly gentleman, and of course the Charles Schultz Peanuts collection. For someone my age the origins of Charlie Brown brought pure joy. Early Peanuts cartoon strips were a thrill that brought a tear to the eye.
Going back to the Shakespeare Festival held on the Winona State University campus, it was lovely to encounter the playwright/multi-talented Melissa Maxwell about everywhere I went. However, I did not work up the nerve to approach her, though I was desiring to speak with her. In later reflections, delving into weirdness, I felt I would meet her in the future. In a reactionary world in which so many individuals are convinced the battle is outside of themselves, I found a profound theme in her play’s ability to turn the focus inward. Our greatest battle is an interior one. Nietzsche, ‘From Beyond Good and Evil’: “Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.” The abyss is within. The abyss demands proper self-awareness. If we are to advance in viewing ourselves, we must be able to touch upon the profoundness such a view deserves. One cannot effectively stare into the abyss if one lacks self-awareness. Self-destruction and/or external damage occurs when delusion dominates. The play, in a roundabout way, also resonated with the mighty influence Don Quixote rendered. The idea of a virtuous delusional man wandering insanely through life fighting battles that were never truly battles proves insightful. I identify the insanity everywhere anymore. No matter how committed to honor, delusion is still delusion. I recall the message of a Trappist monk from years past. He told me of his time as a first-year novice, assigned to the infirmary ward. Caring for an elderly monk facing his final days, he recalled words from the monk: “As I approach death, I realize few things in life were truly my business.” Individual healing is the call the world deserves to hear. I think there are possibilities, possibly once engaged at Western Michigan University, to advance the play into a film. Reading about Ms. Maxwell, I noticed she played in one of Gail’s favorite films—one she watches over and over: ‘The Thomas Crowne Affair’.
I would like to extend thoughts, branching off the seriousness ‘Imbroglio’ produced, by touching on the end of my Upper Mississippi River vacation. I landed at Our Lady of the Mississippi Abbey. Monday morning, I had planned a kayaking excursion in Winona, however Sunday night I determined to head toward La Crosse first thing in the morning, making the early morning Mass at Our Lady of Guadalupe Shrine. As much as I enjoyed Winona—beautiful weather every moment—it was time to leave. The spiritual life called. I attended a Sunday Mass at the SSPX seminary, curious what the community would produce on the Sabbath. Overall, I was impressed with the SSPX seminary. Prejudiced a bit, I was leaning toward criticism. I experienced a humble celebration, well attended, serious intelligent psychologically sound young men participating as religious hopefuls—an authentic devotion to Our Lord and perceived traditions of Catholicism. The Culture of Contempt, a Bishop Barron term, I associate with the online offerings of the Traditionalist movement were not evident. I am pleased to leave it at that.
This was my third visit to the Our Lady of Guadalupe Shrine. The impressive Shrine spearheaded by Cardinal Raymond Burke is a wonder of Catholic splendor. Donated land and means by a wealthy Wisconsin family, the Shrine sits amidst some of the finest Upper Mississippi River bluff lands I encountered. I was unable to explore La Crosse as intended, yet the reasons why will be explained shortly. My first visit to the Shrine occurred while driving semi-truck over-the-road. I made a delivery to Potato King, a wholesale distributor of northern Wisconsin potatoes. Potato King sits right at the mouth of the lonely road leading into the Shrine. I am convinced I was brought to the Shrine I knew nothing about. It was obvious it was my duty to visit. The second visit came with Father David Mary and the Franciscans, sporting a Franciscan gown as a postulant, driving the former prison bus for the community—different times that bring a meaningful sadness—a loss. I recall Father David meeting a former seminary instructor, an aged Franciscan professor from New York City. The wise priest, or more accurately the Franciscans, had been given care of the Shrine. Now here on my third visit, I found Norbertines from California in charge. The Franciscans had been called back to New York City. The Our Lady of Guadalupe Shrine is the finest shrine I have ever encountered.
While in La Crosse—my intentions to stay one night at Our Lady of the Mississippi Abbey before returning—I paid a quick visit to Viterbo University, home of the Franciscan Sisters of Perpetual Adoration. The campus is nothing short of remarkable. The Church/convent is spectacular in size and design. My brief walking tour led me into a smaller church San Diamino Chapel. I learned it was the original church. Inside, I discovered to young men praying the Divine Office together. Everything about the interior spoke of St Francis. Two lovely soft-colored paintings of St Francis and St Clare, as well as a St Damiano cross, highlighted the obviously defunct church. Concluding prayers, the two men introduced themselves as a seminarian and diaconate students. They informed me that if I returned to Mass the following day, I could locate a Franciscan sister who would be delighted to give me a tour of their facility. Departing, it was my intention.
I made my way back to Our Lady of Guadalupe Shrine for a confession before setting off for Our Lady of the Mississippi Abbey. My travels would be interrupted when I reached Prairie du Chien, a charming historic settlement. St Feriole Island Park, a part of Prairie du Chien, provides a bountiful feast of attractions: early 19th century buildings, a statue garden of memorable characters (both native and European) from settlement times, railroad tracks, picnic areas, and walkways setting upon the water. There is a certain type of dead tree forest one will encounter on the shores of the Mississippi. I find them fascinating, recalling similar sights in central New York. The occurrence is due to the building of damns and locks causing the rising of water levels. Such a dead forest sat across the river from St Feriole Island. The stop occupied more time than I anticipated.
Back on the road, enjoying a wonderful river crossing, my journey took an ugly turn. Road closings in Iowa would stymie my progress to an absurd degree. My disposition was riled as I realized I would not only miss my meeting with the Trappist sister, yet I would not even make the start of Mass. The second road closing, this one with no detour guidance, irritated me so immensely I decided to drive through it until I could no longer advance, or someone forced me to turn around. After five or so miles of heavy construction, passing two road crews who never paid me the slightest attention, I finally made it through. Keep in mind, the first road closing disaster detour, twenty minutes or so of misadventure, found me right back at the road closing I was trying to go around. Even with the immense frustration, I found the rolling hills, bluffs, cultivated fields and farms in Iowa beautiful. The blessings and sights would increase once arriving at the abbey.
I would decide to end my Upper Mississippi River adventuring at the abbey. Although, my drive home still provided more natural splendor in Iowa and the crossing of the Mississippi into Savanna, Illinois. My novice camping effort found me mosquito ravaged, plus my trying schedule and bountiful experiences produced an exhaustion. The abbey’s comfortable guesthouse, the view from atop a bluff—the second highest on the Mississippi in Iowa, the cattle, and a relaxed profound peace inundated my soul. I was content. The visit assumed an authenticity, something set apart, when I realized how important the Feast of St Benedict was for the Trappist sisters. During the feast day, one of the sisters proficiently accompanied prayers with a harp. Nowhere else beckoned. The return to La Crosse, on into Madison, Wisconsin and a Sapsuckers concert was negated.
I had been listening to a local radio news station in the guesthouse. Talk of a draught was constant. My final night, before Vigil prayers at 3:45 AM, a thunderstorm broke. Thunder woke me. I made my way to prayers enjoying a heavy downpour protected by my LL Bean raincoat. As the heavy rain fell, a sense of celebration filled the church. Thunder strikes could be heard as lightning sporadically lit up the night skies. The harpist played. The sisters chanted and sang. A profound prayerful end of my vacation was experienced. The rain would fall throughout the day and during my drive home. Dramatic skies would accompany me home.
