(30 miles)
While riding south on St. Michaels Road I saw a dozen or so people gathering outside of what I later learned is the original St Michaels Church, which is now known as the “Small Church”. (There are 6, 15′ long pews on each side of the sanctuary.) The newer, larger church is across the intersection.
It turned out that a mass was about to start so I joined the gathering.
Here’s a snip from the St Michaels website:
St. Michael’s was founded in 1879 by an unknown priest – at least he said he was a priest.
This mystery man, dressed as a Catholic clergyman, approached Mr. L. P. Kuhn, who owned property on what is now Hardy Road and St. Michael’s Road, and requested that Mr. Kuhn let him use his residence to say Mass. He informed Mr. Kuhn, who was not a Catholic, that Pope Leo had recently proclaimed that “Wherever there were Catholics with no church to worship in, Mass should be celebrated once a month during Lent.” This was not true, but Mr. Kuhn not knowing differently, agreed to the use of his home. The young priest ate dinner with the Kuhn family and left the next morning. He was never heard from again.
Mr. Kuhn checked with the bishop in Baltimore, who had no idea who the “young priest” was, where he came from or where he went. However, thinking the priest would return, Mr. Kuhn advertised in Mt. Airy and Woodbine, that Mass would be celebrated the following Sunday. Twenty Catholics gathered as planned on two succeeding Sundays, but a priest never arrived. So the group just sang hymns.
Hoping to get a priest on a regular basis, Kuhn again contacted the bishop. The Rev. Charles Ferrari, S.J. was sent to look into the matter and became the first priest to say Mass for the small gathering at Mr. Kuhn’s home. At this time, Mr. Kuhn and two of his children were baptized. Mr. Kuhn then donated the ground for both the church and cemetery which are still here today. On June 12, 1880, the cornerstone was laid for St. Michael’s Church (the building now known as the “Small Church”).
I passed an apple orchard, which is similar to those seen on my 2023 Michigan bike trip.
This appears to be a memorial to local florist Henry A. Bester. According to the ‘net, he started the business in the 1890’s and it continued until his death in 1974.
As I continued south toward Silver Spring I noticed that pockets of agriculture were being replaced by deeper pockets of affluence.
I made it to the Sliver Spring motel without incident, although the traffic was thicker than I anticipated. After a shower I put on my clean (but but seriously wrinkled) shirt and biking shorts. I was concerned that I might be under-dressed for the classy restaurant that I imagined Zinnia would be, but Joe texted me that I would be dressed acceptably.
I went with Joe’s judgement because:
(1) He had been there before
(2) I didn’t have any other clothes
(3) I had no idea what this Yelp reviewer was talking about.
(Editor’s comment: Have you even heard of any of Nancy Meyers’ movies? The Parent Trap, What Women Want, Something’s Got to Give, The Holiday, It’s Complicated, The Intern, . .
Me: I can google just as well as you can.
Editor: OK, fair point.)
I took an Uber to the restaurant and was sitting on a bench outside when Joe called my name. I recognized his voice immediately.
(Editor comment: Um . . who else could have been calling your name in a restaurant 500 mile from home?)
Anyway, I hadn’t seen Joe in 47 years, and I had never met his wife Sharon, but when I looked at Joe it took a second, but I recognized his eyes and his smile.
We were seated in the gently rolling backyard of the restaurant, and yes, it does look like what I imagine the set of a Nancy Meyers movie might might look like if I had actually seen one of her movies.
We had a very relaxing and enjoyable two-hour dinner and conversation about life and family, both before and after Vanceburg. I didn’t take notes (!), but my recollection is that they have been married for 30+ years and have an adult son and daughter. All four of them are doing well in life. Joe is retired and Sharon is still working.
We touched lightly on politics and Henry Clay Frick, who is well thought of for his contributions to civic life in Pittsburgh, and not well thought of in the Uniontown, Pa part of my family. (My dad was raised in a Frick Coal Company house where he slept on a straw mattress with my uncle Albert, and lived off the “Frick” dollars that my grandfather was paid.) We found agreement that Donald Trump would be bad for both our country and the environment.
After dinner they drove me back to my motel, and in the conversation it came up that they were bicyclists. I explained my affection for Amtrak and the $20 option to take your bike with you on the train. Joe gave me a fare card and explained how to use the Metro to get to Reagan airport. I thanked them for the ride (and the dinner) and made a mental note to find a way to visit them again.