Friday 6th November 2009 - Princes and (Pill) Poppers

          I have fallen among a nest of catholics.  I kind-of knew before I came that there had been a very special missionary here in the nineteenth century, but I didn't think it would be so obvious.  There are large brick churches everywhere. 

          There are also more bars and taverns than I've seen elsewhere.  I don't suppose there's any connection.

          All of which reminded me that I had looked up something about this missionary before I came.  I spotted him because the local State Park is named for him.  His name was Prince Demetrius Gallitzin. 

          He led a quite spectacular life.  His father was the Russian ambassador to Holland and to France. and a friend of Voltaire.  As a baby, he was cradled in the arms of Catherine the Great (I didn't really need to put in the bit about being a baby, did I?).  His mother, a German Princess, unlapsed her catholicism during a serious illness, and seems to have induced Dimitri to do the same. 

          He threw up a career in the Imperial Rusian Army to come to America and become a priest.  I think at this point his bishop found him a bit of a handful.  It is interesting to speculate about just how humble and obedient a nineteenth century Russian prince could be.  However it happened, he ended up in the Alleghenies, ministering to a tiny flock.

          In what seems like no time at all, it seems most of the population was catholic.  And to this day, breakdowns of religious affilliation show and enormous catholic spike in this neighbourhood.  He became known as the Apostle of the Alleghenies, and is on the road to sainthood.  He was clearly a very inspiring man.

   

          The place he was centred in he finally called Loretto, after the Italian pilgrimage town (although it's at the very northern edge of what is now called the Laurel Highlands).   It is in between Ebensburg, where I'm staying, and Glasgow.  I thought I would go and look.  Although a relatively small town, it has a university, a seminary, and a nunnery and two pubs.  It is very well laid out and wealthy-looking.

          But it is the latest version of the prince's church which is so outstanding

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Inside is equally spectacular

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They also have a museum (sort-of) in his chapel house.  It has a copy of his instructions to visitors

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It was noticeable that catholic grown-up ladies come with vacuum cleaners.

 

          The churchyard had stones indicating all ages and european nationalities, but I have to share one outstanding one with you

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(sorry about the indoor camera setting!)

 

          Later that night, I saw a young lady getting a good kicking.  It was in a soccer match, on TV.  Rudyard Kipling wrote a poem about it, though he was thinking of Himalayan bears, rather than football players.

          A substantial number of the ads on TV are about taking pills.  Their purpose is really to outflank the doctors.  They tell us to ask our doctors for such-and-such a pill.  The doctors have retaliated by insisting that the adverts list all the side effects, however unlikely.  This has the bizzarre effect of providing an advert for a product with long lists of how much damage it can do you.  There is one particular one for Viagra (yes, they advertise viagra on the TV here).  In its catalogue of horrors, it says to seek immediate medical help for an erection lasting more than four hours.  What's been bugging me about this is that I'm sure there's a joke in there somewhere, if only I could dig it out.  Maybe it's the juxtaposition of "immediate" and "four hours"; or perhaps the medical help it for the other party?