from "Patience McGuire": 1793
It was in November of ninety-three that Dad departed this life. One day his face had gone gray as though the life were draining out. He left work in the midafternoon, saying he felt poorly, and asked for a glass of whiskey. When I fetched it to him, he smiled and gave me a blessing. Then he relaxed into a deep sleep. By morning his sleep had become eternal. Mama and I had no idea where to find a priest around there, to give Extreme Unction. There were none to be found for many miles around. We looked at each other, wondering what to do next. Then we sprinkled Dad with holy water, crossed ourselves, and said the Rosary over him.
All the folk from far and wide in Cambria County came to his funeral, to pay their respects to the Revolutionary War veteran. They were flying a big American flag and they had a fife and drum to accompany the funeral procession to the new cemetery, on land Dad had deeded to the Church, round the flank of the hill just above our settlement. His was the first grave, just as he had been the first settler. When I looked at all the veterans turned out and heard the strains of patriotic airs, my heart swelled up into the clear, bright sunshine of a cold November day. While I grieved and wept for Dad, I also felt great pride in his life, and even a sense of sacred elation as his spirit migrated to glory. It was like I could sense that happening in my heart, and I quietly said, "Farewell, Dad" as his spirit seemed to pass by.
My big brother Luke gave the funeral oration. He honored the memory of Dad as a hero who fought for our freedoms as Americans. In particular, he called to mind the guarantee of religious freedom that Mr. Jefferson had first written for Virginia and then introduced to the Bill of Rights, which had recently been ratified after much to-do about it. Luke held forth that this meant our right to profess the Catholic faith was now protected by the law of the land, and thank God we were Americans. He concluded by reminding all assembled that Dad's last wish had been to build a Catholic church on the land he had donated, and that it fell on our shoulders to bring his vision to fruition.
However, no church was to be built for several more years, until Father Gallitzin showed up and got folks a-building. In the meantime, whenever a priest was in the area, they held Mass at Luke's log cabin. It was already far too small to hold all the worshipers. Luke was now the senior McGuire of the settlement, so that he directed community affairs from then on.
All the folk from far and wide in Cambria County came to his funeral, to pay their respects to the Revolutionary War veteran. They were flying a big American flag and they had a fife and drum to accompany the funeral procession to the new cemetery, on land Dad had deeded to the Church, round the flank of the hill just above our settlement. His was the first grave, just as he had been the first settler. When I looked at all the veterans turned out and heard the strains of patriotic airs, my heart swelled up into the clear, bright sunshine of a cold November day. While I grieved and wept for Dad, I also felt great pride in his life, and even a sense of sacred elation as his spirit migrated to glory. It was like I could sense that happening in my heart, and I quietly said, "Farewell, Dad" as his spirit seemed to pass by.
My big brother Luke gave the funeral oration. He honored the memory of Dad as a hero who fought for our freedoms as Americans. In particular, he called to mind the guarantee of religious freedom that Mr. Jefferson had first written for Virginia and then introduced to the Bill of Rights, which had recently been ratified after much to-do about it. Luke held forth that this meant our right to profess the Catholic faith was now protected by the law of the land, and thank God we were Americans. He concluded by reminding all assembled that Dad's last wish had been to build a Catholic church on the land he had donated, and that it fell on our shoulders to bring his vision to fruition.
However, no church was to be built for several more years, until Father Gallitzin showed up and got folks a-building. In the meantime, whenever a priest was in the area, they held Mass at Luke's log cabin. It was already far too small to hold all the worshipers. Luke was now the senior McGuire of the settlement, so that he directed community affairs from then on.