Comic In A Cassock

Definitely NOT Brother Jerome with us at Mission Empada

There are many things designed to broaden an individual, pie a la mode, for example and Twinkies, Little Debbies, etc. Beer is said to be a broadening experience as well, but I guess I'm thinking in, er, broader terms. By that, Im referring to travel.
Meeting strangers and interacting in a social fashion is a much ballyhooed way to broaden one's perspective on almost anything of a personal nature. Finding out that, despite geographical differences, we are mostly alike has a calming effect on us when we have occasion to discuss "those people" whoever they might be. So it is, that our latest adventure brought us to new, broader vistas on our journey through life. Whether it was the retired Royal Canadian Mounted Policeman and his wife we met at the Alamo, the concierge at our hotel who was extremely helpful (well, ok, it was the desk clerk. I just like using that word) the Irish folksinger from Liverpool (?) who had us clapping and singing along to "Black Velvet Band" (an old Clancy Brothers tune) or any of the myriad waiters, shopkeepers and national park tour guides we met in a few short days in Texas, we look at the world in a slightly different way now. To wit: at least three or four retirees we met were travelling the country in RVs, and every one of them thought it was the greatest experience ever. I had always been somewhat skeptical of the "retired people cruisin' in an RV" stereotype, but these folks brought along bikes, kayaks and golf clubs. No sittin' on the veranda sippin' ice tea for these people. All the while they extolled the virtues of the vagabond lifestyle, I began to get sort of a wanderlust worked up. That sort of decision needs two people to make it work...I'll be biking and golfing and kayaking in Green Bay. Brother Jerome was, for my money, the crown jewel of our broadening horizons on this trip. A park service tour guide had mentioned him in passing, but it was pure serendipity that we met.
We were just leaving Mission Empada, the last on our bike tour of old Spanish missions. A door to a Blazer opened, and a guy in black asked if we'd found the bathrooms. "Swat team?" I thought to myself. "Vacationing telemarketer?" "Kinky Friedman?" He explained that he was a resident and hoped that we'd found the bathrooms since, upon our arrival, we seemed to be searching. Formal introductions revealed his true indentity, and the conversations began innocently enough. I asked how he'd come to be out in the middle of nowhere, and he offered two responses, rapid-fire: "The order found me hiding out in St. Louis" and "See the three knots on this belt? Poverty, Chastity and do what you're told." Somehow, the newer Blazer didn't exactly scream "I'm broke" to me, but that far from nowhere, a guy really needs a ride. He regaled us with stories of the mission, his penchant for scuba diving and his biking adventures for about 20 minutes. He opened the back door of his vehicle and displayed a portfolio of all the impressive pipe organs he'd been fortunate enough to play, including the one in Salt Lake City. It turned out that he was mildly famous. As I quipped, "Oh, so you're the organist I've heard about," his eyes narrowed, and he asked who had given away his secret identity. Carrying a portfolio of pictures hardly seemed in keeping with his stated desire for anonymity. The banter continued with him taking a shot at my "fancy schmancy" sunglasses and agreeing to have his photo taken as long as we didn't display it openly. He then ducked inside to don his cassock so he'd look "official." He's hoping the Franciscans forget about him in San Antonio, I suspect. He even displayed a name tag as a volunteer for the National Park Service. No wonder...we spent more time there than at any other mission and marvelled at our good fortune. We emerged truly broadened, and the smiles on our faces as we recounted our visit with him broadened as well.
Everyone should get to meet Brother Jerome...but then, he couldn't remain anonymous and the Franciscans would find him again. On the other hand, David Letterman should know about this guy. I'm glad we do.