Antonio Gaudi 1852-1926

 

Gaudi was a famed architect and a great exponent of Catalan Modernism and today, his houses and works are destinations for many travelers to Barcelona. His work has come to symbolize what make Catalonia different from the rest of Spain. Early in his career, he was influenced by the neo-gothic movement. His later work, however, reflected his love of nature and his religious beliefs. Seven of his designs have been designated UNESCO World Heritage sites.

Gaudi died after being struck by a streetcar in 1926, while undertaking his most famous and ambitious project, the Basilica La Sagrada Familia.

Casa Vicens (1883-1888) 

Casa Batlló (1904-1906) 

Casa Milà (1906-1910) often referred to as La Pedera

La Sagrada Familia (1915-2026) Completion of the Basilica is slated to be completed in time to coincide with the one hundredth anniversary of Gaudi’s death 

Loss, Memory and Identity

The Western Facade of Notre Dame de Paris
May 2001

The fire at Notre Dame on 15 April 2019 was devastating, nearly destroying the ancient cathedral. I have been in the church several times and that afternoon my first thought was maybe I had not taken enough photographs. But in the following days I learned that Notre Dane had been systematically photographed and digitized. Perhaps my inclination to catalog sites and places would be better served in other, less familiar places.

Six weeks later, I had the chance to walk along the Seine and see the damage for myself. The twelfth century structure remained unsafe. People sat and stared in disbelief. The near destruction of an iconic building, well over 800 years old, startled people; it was a stark reminder of the transient nature of all things. It would be rebuilt. Its memory would continue to be cherished. It would remain a part of our collective identity, even if we were not French or Catholic.

Yet a year on, the great fire seems like a distance footnote to those of us who are not in Paris. The COVID-19 virus has disrupted life wreaking havoc not just on a building but on the entire society and much of the world. The gargoyles perched around Notre Dame seem to look down on the city and the world

Notre Dame: late May 2019

Frackville, PA

Holy Ascension Russian Orthodox Church, Frackville, PA

Anthracite coal was once a dominant source of employment and life in Frackville, is a small borough in Schuylkill County, Pennsylvania. Arriving into town from the interstate, on Lehigh Avenue, the primary thoroughfare through town, the only thing that appears to shine is the domes of the Holy Ascension Russian Orthodox Church, constructed in 1915, can be seen far in the distance. Otherwise, the commercial buildings, are seemingly covered in a thin layer of coal dust and grime. Driving requires a navigating a series of potholes that one fears could do real damage to a vehicle. 

Sidewalk on Lehigh Avenue

Water town at the industrial park

Deindustrialization, along with the disappearance of coal mining jobs, has not been kind to Frackville. On the edge of town, an empty industrial park sits idle. The Schuylkill Mall, also on the edge of town, adjacent to the interstate, had just been demolished, even though signs still thanked patrons for shopping. I walked through the business district of Frackville on a Thursday morning in August. Several people were out mowing their lawn before the heat of the day sets in and washing hung from clothesline along residential streets. But commercial activity in the town was limited to a service stations and small restaurant. Chinese restaurants and pizza place would offer services later. Lehigh Avenue as a hole, however, was a series of abandoned building blocks, architecture redolent of better times in need of repair, with cracked sidewalks sprouting weeds and grass. In one abandoned building a campaign sign from two years prior reads, “Veterans for Trump.” I walked by the library, tempted to wander in, to find it there were heavy fans attempting to dry the carpets. The doors of the library propped open by bound volumes of National Geographic magazines. 

St, Michael's Ukrainian Orthodox Church

The grim economic fate of the borough obscures the history and background of the community. The local churches reflect the immigrant population of the century ago, with several Orthodox congregations dotting the neighborhoods. Walking in the residential streets, one can find a mixture of well-maintained domiciles, with gardens and well-apportioned homes, with a smattering of dilapidated dwellings punctuating the few square blocks that surround the commercial district. On the other hand, brick factories, warehouses, and fraternal buildings sit empty, awaiting a new usage and return to better times. 

More photographs from Frackville.

Saint John Chrysostom Church, Pittsburgh

Built between 1932 and 1935, the evocative Byzantine Church, Saint John Chrysostom, is located on a remote residential street in the Greenfield section of the city. It is a distinct landmark, with onion domes adorned with Slavic style crosses, visible just east of the Squirrel Hill Tunnel from Interstate-376. Often, while driving in Pittsburgh, I tried to deduce how one got to the church. Several times, I scanned the highway for an exit that would allow easy access to the church. It turns out that it located in an isolated part of the city, entombed by surrounding tunnels, highways, hills and waterways. 

We were unable to explore the interior of the church, but murals on the exterior of the building are both beautiful and compelling. As an Eastern Russian Greek Rite congregation, the church has served immigrant families of the community. Buildings such as Saint John Chrysostom serve as a testament to those who settled and worked the dangerous and dirty industrial jobs of Pittsburgh and the religious diversity these families brought to the United States. 

Without a doubt, the most famous parishioner was Andy Warhol, who was baptized in the church as a child.

Early Fall, along US Route 13

The wonderful part of living in the mid-Atlantic is that during September and October the weather is incredible.  There is a great propensity of crystal blue skies, the temperature is either cool with a warm sun or warm with a cool breeze, and long shadows are a harbinger of the coming autumn. It is not uncommon to find roadside stands offering travelers pumpkins, mums, and corn mazes for entertainment.

We were traveling north on US Route 13 in Delaware. Angie, ever watchful for interesting things for us to explore, saw a sign, along the highway, for the Christian Church of Seafood. My mind started considering the interesting dogmatic contortions of theology that might be associated with such a congregation. I was beginning to consider scenarios such as the church was founded by fishermen; or, more bizarrely, a sacrament involved some edible piscatory items, perhaps involving five loaves of bread. That was, until I realized that we were in the town of Seaford, Delaware, and Angie had misread the sign, a mistake I usually make. 

Abandoned Churches in Pittsburgh (Part 2)

About three years ago, I began an exploration of abandoned churches in Pittsburgh. Since that time, I have read quite a lot about the phenomenon of urban abandonment and have become very interested in photography as a way of preserving that which is in danger of being lost. The decline in the number of people who regularly go to church, the loss of congregations to more contemporary services, and the trend of megachurches has fueled the disappearance of late nineteenth and early twentieth century religious edifices in the United States.

Albright United Methodist Church (Pittsburgh)

In the Bloomfield neighborhood of Pittsburgh, the Albright United Methodist Church stands on the edge of oblivion. The structure, built in 1905, was slated for demolition in 2015. Its land was to be redeveloped as space for retail buildings, no doubt using modern building methods that are less permanent. Seemingly, at least for now, there appears to be a reprieve. These great stone buildings, both religious and secular, give the neighborhood a unique feel. It makes the area an attractive destination for urban dwellers. Yet, the demand for modern shopping and conveniences undermine the essential quality of the neighborhood. It is an ironic situation: the aesthetic character of Bloomfield, East Liberty, and Shadeyside that attract modern urban dwellers create an impetus to destroy the things that make the area attractive.

St. Peter and Paul Roman Catholic Church
(Pittsburgh) 

I revisited St. Peter and Paul Roman Catholic Church. Over the past three years nothing in the status of the building has really changed, except that more decay has occurred. In what is ostensibly a “bad area,” people are friendly many times offering a greeting. In my mind, I suspect they are curious about the guy photographing abandoned buildings but local people, nonetheless, usually offer a reticent “hello,” and are more forthcoming when I return the greeting. Nevertheless, just in case I am challenged as to why I am in the neighborhood, I have a cover story ready. It is along the lines of a great aunt who attended the church in the 1970s and I am reflecting in the past. The great aunt part is not true, but every time I run across a church like this I think about the numerous parishioners who once offered their time and effort, their meager financial support, to the particular institution. What they have worked so hard for in their lifetimes stands upon a precipice of existence. It is difficult to think about buildings such as these and not consider the importance of them to generations of the past. 

Paradise Meeting House

Located near Route 11, the meeting house was built in 1861 in Franklin County, Pennsylvania just a few mile north of the Maryland state line.

Hogestown, Pennsylvania

As US Route 11 North travels through Cumberland County from Carlisle toward Harrisburg, it actually moves in an easterly direction. The north and southbound lanes are separate by a city block at the hamlet of Hogestown, named after its found John Hoge.  What appears to have been a once prosperous town is sandwiched between the two roads that carry US11. There is a 35-mph speed limit that no one observes; several buildings have been deemed dangerous and uninhabitable by the township. Of particular fascination is the (unidentified) church towards the south end of town, built in 1858. Generations of parishioners gathered, shared community and cared for this structure. Today, there is just a skeleton of the steeple remains: symbolic of the current state of Hogestown. 

Holy Trinity (Old Swedes) Church

Not many people think of Sweden as a major player in the development of colonial North American; however, from Philadelphia, through southern New Jersey, into northern Delaware, Swedish immigrants came to the New World and established thriving communities. The relationship between the Swedes and the native Lenape Indians was generally good and the colony was generally accepting of all people. Although there is a major museum in Philadelphia, and a few smaller museums in the region, the history of Swedish colonies is virtually unknown to most Americans. During our visit to the church, one of the guides noted that Swedes had been in the region long before William Penn came.

Holy Trinity Church of Wilmington, Delaware, located along the banks of Brandywine Creek and the Christina River, is evidence of that Swedish-American history. The congregation of the church dates back to 1640. The current stone church was built in the burial grounds of Fort Christina beginning in 1697, at the direction of Eric Björk a young pastor sent from Sweden by the King. The church was dedicated on Holy Trinity Sunday, 4 July 1699, making it the only 17th-century church still operating as a congregation in the United States. 

Betlémské Kapel

The interior of the chapel

Bethlehem Chapel (Prague) was founded in 1391 and is an important building in both Czech and Protestant history. The charter of the chapel stipulated that sermons were to be delivered in Czech, rather than Latin, a major departure from church practices of the day. The building was also important because it could contain the largest meeting space of anywhere in the city, up to 3000 people. Despite the size, the building was never considered a church.

Perhaps, however, the more historically important aspect of the chapel was the appointment of Jan Hus as preacher in 1402. Largely unknown outside of Bohemia, his sermons and writings were of great renown, even drawing Queen Sophia, the wife of King Wenceslas IV, to hear him. He preached on the evils of too much money, citing the tenth chapter of Matthew, Hus worried that the church would be captured by earthly riches and would refrain from preaching the Word of God. As such, Hus was also a critic of the practice of selling indulgences, which drew the ire of the king and Church. In 1412 he was forced to flee Prague. He was arrested and burned at the stake on 6 July 1415, the anniversary of which is now the Czech national day. Hus is seen as the precursor to the Protestant Reformation that would occur a century later and Martin Luther cited him as his predecessor.

The illustration of Jan Hus in flames

The interior of the chapel, austere and sparse like many early Protestant churches, evokes a serenity not found on the busy streets of Prague. Reproductions of medieval paintings on the walls tell the story of Hus and his followers. Today the chapel is a part of, and maintained by, the Czech Technical University in Prague. It hosts formal graduations of students and each 6 July an ecumenical meeting on the anniversary of Hus’s execution. Stepping into the chapel is almost stepping back in time. There are very few distractions and almost no tourists; only fellow travelers. 

East Germany: 25 years after the wall

Traveling through what was East Germany is insightful. The towns of eastern Germany have largely been depopulated over the last couple of decades. The train ride from Berlin to Dresden takes one through some sparsely populated territory. The train, however, does bypass a few small towns with abandoned buildings and rundown train stations. There are several stories that describe the exodus of young people from the region to find work and opportunities in the western parts of the country.

The one city doing well in southeast Germany is the cultural city of Dresden. The city is, of course, famous for the bombing it experienced in the final months of the Second World War. On the nights of 13 and 14 February 1945, British and American airplanes dropped 600,000 incendiary bombs and created massive fires in the city that was known as the “Florence of the Elbe.” The fires soon engulfed Dresden in a firestorm, destroying the city and killing approximately 25,000. Before the bombing, the city had been virtually untouched and was a destination for refugees fleeing conflict and devastation.

Frauenkirche at night

My introduction to the firebombing of Dresden came in high school when I devoured the books of Kurt Vonnegut. In Slaughterhouse-Five, Vonnegut builds a fictional story around his real-life experience as a prisoner of war interred in Dresden. His description of the removal of bodies and cleaning up the debris in the days following the attack are harrowing. It as a significant and insightful introduction into the effects of war. As a teenager, Dresden seemed unreal and exotic – I could not have imagined ever visiting. The bombing occurred a long time ago, in a place far away. As a teenager, I could not imagine a city being rebuilt. But Vonnegut’s staccato words, describing his outrage of what happened, haunted me. Years later, the chance to exit a train and find myself in a city that still bore the scars of the firestorm was important to me.

In the intervening years much of the city has been rebuilt. It is difficult to tell that the Frauenkirche, which was originally completed in 1743, is actually an excellent reconstruction of the church completed in 2005. Only the darker stones in the building indicate which where original; lighted colored stones are ones used in the reconstruction. I read an account about the church that said as the firestorm grew in intensity, the temperature inside the church grew to 1800°F. The sandstone columns began glowing red and eventually exploded sending the dome crashing through the floor of the church. A small section of the original dome sits outside the church to demonstrate the amount of weight that was supported by those columns.

The Zwinger

Similarly, the Zwinger, royal palace built in the early eighteenth century, is beautifully restored. But it is more difficult to identify which parts survived and which are reconstructions. Like the Frauenkirche, the Zwinger was been heavily damaged, but was rebuilt much earlier and completed in the early 1960s. Not all buildings are exact reproductions of the pre-war design. The synagogue of Dresden is built on the same land as the synagogue that was destroyed during Kristallnacht 1938. Yet, the new synagogue is modern building that does incorporate the only surviving element from the original nineteenth century building, a golden Star of David.

Bad Schandau from the train

Every year I travel the train route from Dresden to the Czech border I promise myself that I will return and stop off at some of the little German villages that line the Elbe River. The most tempting, and easily accessible, is Bad Schandau. The sereneness of the river, combined with interesting rock formations and the occasional castle that line the dramatic ridges, beckons me to visit. Perhaps I have over-idealized such a trip after several viewings from a train seat. Nevertheless, I look forward to that journey.

Wandering in Spandau

Statue of Joachim II outside St. Nicholas Church

Because Berlin was constructed of several small towns incorporated into a modern city in 1920, these former cities have become distinct neighborhoods within the German capital. My exploration, taking place on a Monday holiday, entered a city that is more familiar for the prison that housed the Nazi prisoners through most of the Cold War than for the buildings and events that took place there. Spandau prison was demolished in 1987 after its last prisoner, Rudolf Hess, died.

A leisurely walk from the train station is St. Nicholas Church, one of the oldest in Berlin. Dating from the first half of the 14^th century, the church is most famous as the site where, on 1 November 1539, Elector Joachim II took communion under the Lutheran rite, which is both bread and wine. He was a member of the house of Hohenzollern and Prince Elector of Brandenburg, one of the most important principalities of the Holy Roman Empire. Joachim did not officially convert to Lutheranism until 1555 for political reasons. The church, well off the tourist track, has an interesting history aside from its role in the Protestant Reformation and was a real treat for someone interested in Lutheran heritage.

The great thing about exploring on a holiday is that all the shops are closed and there is very little pedestrian traffic. This meant that I could wander Spandau without having a number of people rushing around completing their errands. Of course, the downside is that many places are closed and, therefore, food, drink and comfort options are limited.

Entrance to Zitadelle

A walk around the Zitadelle, a medieval fort built to protect Spandau, provided a little interaction with nature. The water that surrounds the fort is an excellent location for birds and small animals. As I walked the perimeter the dead leaves and underbrush was alive with rustlings of small birds or animals, it was difficult to tell which.

I found a small park at Stresowplatz, where a sign indicated that the square had once been a bustling business district. Now it is comprised mainly of apartment blocks. Unfortunately, the sign was too badly damaged, with stickers and graffiti, to be able to decipher.

An unidentified bird in the undergrowth at the Zitadelle

Coming back to the center of the Spandau, I noticed a Woolworth Store. The chain has long since disappeared in the United States; however, it continues in Germany, Austria and Mexico. I have fond memories of the Woolworth in Southland Terrace while growing up. When I was very young I was bitten by a gerbil in that store. I remember being taken to the back (behind the curtain if you will) and I was impressed that there was something beyond the store – a secret world. Later, Woolworth was a place that I frequently bought records. Most of the time there was nothing new, but good bargains on interesting albums and 45s. I distinctly remember the lunch counter nearby where you could order a quick burger or grilled cheese. The pickles served on the side were always better than the ones you could get at home. 

The Woolworth chain began with its first store in Utica, New York in 1878, but did not last long. Frank Whitfield Woolworth then moved his store to Lancaster, Pennsylvania, where it thrived. Soon it became the most successful five and dime store in the United States and the world. It was so successful that it figured in the popular songs, such as, “I Can’t Give You Anything But Love.” The corporate headquarters, The Woolworth Building, at Broadway and Park Place, is still one of the most iconic buildings in lower Manhattan.

The Woolworth in Spandau Berlin

Although the Woolworth in Spandau was not open, I could not resist the temptation to have a peek inside the windows. Looking at the goods that are served in the modern successor to the classic five and dime, there is very little to remind me of the old store. There are no longer wax bottles with liquid sugar or candy cigarettes in a huge candy aisle near the checkout counter. There are no small turtles along the back wall waiting to be taken home as a pet. In other words, while the sign on the outside serves as a nostalgic reminder, the store does not satiate my longing to revisit the places of my adolescence. 

Exploring Alsemberg

My explorations near the language border of Belgium, on the south side of Brussels, are always interesting and provide much food for thought. As took a Saturday afternoon walked in late May in Fleming-speaking Sint-Genesius-Rode, many people were gardening, cutting the lawn or making general repairs to their homes. It was a beautiful afternoon. As I passed through one neighborhood I noticed a discarded tennis ball was hiding in the leaves at the end of a driveway. My first thought was that the ball seemed quite out of place. It made me realize that the amount of litter and debris in this sleepy little village in rural Belgium is substantially less than it would be in a village of similar size in the United States. This is in part because shoppers have to pay for plastic bags as part of a tax to reduce usage. Consequently, there are very few bags tossed carelessly along the road or empty lots.

I was making my way for Alsemberg, a nearby village. As I walked down the street called Steenweg naar Halle, a couple in a Renault beckoned me over, “Monsieur…s’il vous plait.” Although I could have tentatively responded in French, I calculated that it was easier for me to smile, shake my head and say, “I’m sorry,” knowing full well they were going to ask for directions. The lady smile understandingly, waved and said, “It’s OK.” She was no doubt going to ask how to navigate the washed out road about a half a kilometer further down. I knew how to go around, but there was no way I was going to be able to explain it in French.

One of the things I like in Flanders is the apartment buildings, which are generally made of brick and have a distinctive architectural design. One, at the corner of Tenbroekstraat, has a yellow-tile look to the brick that is very different. Built in 1949, the decorative art and details catches my eye every time I travel the road. Many have small designs that subtly enhance the distinctiveness of the building, while at the same time fits nicely into the community.

Our Lady in Alsemberg

The village of Alsemberg is a small town of about 5,000 people. It is quite busy on a Saturday afternoon, with many people shopping and running weekly errands. I wandered in the OxFam shop and mused that the name for a garden shop, “Sophie’s Choice,” was somewhat inappropriate. The gothic church in the center of town, the Church of Our Lady in Alsemberg, was constructed in the second half of the fourteenth century. While the interior of the church was closed during my visit, outside there is an evocative memorial to soldiers who died during the Second World War.

The Mariakapel van de Steenput. Erected by
the Meurs Family in 1849

One of the most interesting phenomena in Flanders is the number of Mariakapel (Maria Chapels) that are found throughout the region. Field Mariakapels (or freestanding Mariakapels) are not associated or attached to a church and are often found along roadsides or farm fields in Belgium and the Netherlands. Once you begin to notice them, they are everywhere. Most of the time a statue of Mary, the mother of Jesus, is found inside a small post that is decorated with flowers or paintings. Seemingly, most date from the nineteenth century.

 

Where Journeys Begin (and/or End)

For any traveler familiar with the United States, the iconic Route 66 instinctively draws us to exploration. The legendary “Mother Road,” which runs from Chicago to Santa Monica, winds its way through eight states and beckons us west. Its legendary status has inspired song, television and more important travelers. Its 2448 miles contains some of the most famous Americana sites that grace postcards and magazine articles.

Historical marker on
East Adams Street 

Although officially decommissioned in 1985, people and legend keep the memory of the road alive. On East Adams Street in Chicago, not far from Michigan Avenue, there is a marker that denotes the place where Route 66 began on its journey westward. With the better part of a day to kill in the city, I took a trip for which the route was not designed: I decided to walk the first part, or last depending on geographic persuasion (I note that several guides have a west-to-east orientation). I had limited expectations but decided that it might be the start of a new adventure and a goal.

As I turned the corner from Michigan Avenue onto East Adams Street. I saw a three-generation Asian family posing for photographs at the sign. The grandparents were taking turns holding the granddaughter while posing on an otherwise nondescript downtown street. The mother had a selfie stick, but I am not exactly sure what she was trying to accomplish with it. I waited for them to finish their various poses before snapping a photo myself and beginning my trip west.

Wearing my 1914 replica Cubs hat, which I calculate to be about 17 years old, and my hiking boots, I knew my journey would not be arduous. Yet I was trying to beat the threat of impending rain showers. I had gone no more than a block when a guy wearing a Cubs sweatshirt, talking on his cell phone and walking toward me pointed directly at me. He interrupted his conversation, and said emphatically, “Go Cubs!” It took me a moment to process what was going on, but chuckled afterwards when I thought to myself if this guy did that to every Cubs fan in downtown Chicago he would never finish his conversation.

Within the first quarter of a mile or so, there are a several classic Chicago business. At the corner of State Street the Palmer House Hotel and the Berghoff Restaurant hearken to an earlier time. The Berghoff is a classic German restaurant that rose to prominence during the Chicago Exposition of 1893. The bar/restaurant opened in 1898 and sandwiches were given away when patrons bought a mug of beer. The owner was advertising his brothers’ Dortmund-style beer which made in Indiana. Of course during Prohibition Berghoff was not allowed to sell its beer, but focused instead sold near-beer and root beer, which is still available today. After prohibition was repealed, the restaurant resumed the serving of beer and had liquor permit number 1 for the city of Chicago. These days the food and ambiance are the primary draws rather than the beer. Nevertheless, the place oozes nostalgia and history.

There are many people, more so than in years past, asking for spare change these days. A symptom of Chicago’s economic plight. As with many cities in the eastern half of the United States, the melted snow has revealed a great deal of trash and debris that has yet to be cleaned.

St Patrick Church with the statue "Grainne" in the foreground

Chicago is obviously a much newer than many cities on the east coast. The Great Fire of 1871 brings that point home more readily. Very few buildings survived the fire. One building that did survive is St. Patrick’s Church at 700 West Adams, at the corner of South DesPlaines. Built between 1852 and 1856, the church is closely associated with the Irish community in Chicago. Across DesPlaines, in Heritage Green Park, there is a statue of “Grainne” a gift from Chicago’s sister city Galway, Ireland.

As you near Ogden there are several small parks, where pick-up games of softball are still played on Sunday morning. Row houses, both new and old, occupy tree-lined blocks as you walk west out of the downtown section of Chicago. Epiphany Church, a congregation that appears to have fallen on hard times, is at the corner of Ashland and Adams. At Ogden Avenue within sight of the United Center (home of the Chicago Bulls and Blackhawks), Route 66 took a left to head southwest out of the city and toward Springfield and points west. I, instead, made my way over the West Jackson Boulevard, which is one-way, heading east to return to the city. Turning back to the city, the Sears Tower, arguably the tallest building in the United States, becomes much more noticeable than when you are standing next to it.

I walked by the Bays English Muffin faculty and, even though it was closed on Sunday morning, there was a residual, pleasant smell of yeast in the air.

Neon sign at Athenian Candle Co. 

It is hard to observe classic Americana this near to Chicago; however, as you near downtown more odd and interesting places begin to pop up. One such place, at the corner of Halstead, is the Athenian Candle Company in Greek Town. The business opened in 1922 and served the liturgical needs of the Orthodox community throughout the United States. What makes the business noticeable to the traveler is the great signage and neon light that hangs on the corner.

The most iconic place along Jackson is Lou Mitchell’s, a restaurant and coffee shop that has been open since 1923. Located near Union Station, I got to the restaurant just as the Sunday brunch rush was starting. I got there just in time, after I was seated a substantial line formed to wait for tables. Because it was so busy, and I was by myself, I was seated at a communal counter with seven other people. It was a frenetic pace in the restaurant; I nursed a cup of coffee, advertised as the finest in town, while I waited to order. Waiting afforded me an opportunity to watch and observe. I was curious about several boxes lining the front window until I realized that they contained oranges for fresh-squeezed juice. I watched several orders of fresh doughnut holes go by. My server, who seemed befuddled by the rush, took my order and I had a leisurely lunch despite about chaos.

Lou Mitchell's on West Jackson

After lunch, I completed the walk ending, once again, at Michigan Avenue. My trip consisted of a total of 2.3 miles each way. I was a little disappointed that I did not even cover 0.1% of the entirety of Route 66. Nevertheless, as I walked along the streets of Chicago I thought about walking other portions of the fabled highway. The pleasures of trips considered.  

Old South Church

Old South Church is one of the famous building in the Copley Square area of Boston. The current structure dates from 1875; however, the congregation was formed in 1669. I made a visit to the church on the Saturday following Easter. It was one of the first nice days of spring after a tremendously difficult winter. The church was still decorated with Easter flowers and the sunlight shone brightly through the beautiful stained-glass windows.

The church is an example of the true meaning of sanctuary: some quiet time for myself; a respite for an unfortunate woman taking a nap in a pew. The quietness of such a large space is inspiring. While inside it is difficult to imagine that just a few feet away crowds of people hurrying and bustling through their busy lives on a Saturday afternoon. It was hard to remain absolutely silent, however, as the wooden floor creaked and groaned under the stress on my shoes as I walk around the church.

Among the parishioners of the church was Samuel Adams (1722-1803), a familiar name in Boston. The memorial to him reads: “To give his history at full length would be to give a history of the American Revolution.” The church was also near the finish line of the Boston Marathon and the church witnessed the tragic bombing that unfolded just two years before.