April 15th, 2004
The Grotto, a.k.a. the National Sanctuary of our Sorrowful Mother, was like one of those tourist traps you’d find in Tennesee (like Rock City or Ruby Falls).
The thumbnail story is about 100 years ago some kooky priest lost a wager to god and ended up building this crazy ‘holy place’ on the rocky slopes at the intersection of 82nd and Sandy (my two favorite streets in Portland, perhaps it really is a holy place). But it felt like we were much further out of town because the park is thick with tall fir trees, which still seem really surreal to me.
Being there with Jeremy, was like when I took him to New Orleans and had to explain why everything was so unusual, since I was raised Catholic and he wasn’t. Like, how the only thing saints love more than candles being lit for them ($5 at giftshop) is money. And that’s why there are little padlocked money boxes next to every statue and wishing well and reflecting pond.
But it wasn’t a ripoff to ride in this elevator to the top of the mountain. Inside, you hear the Pachelbel’s Canon as a woman’s voice gives you a little background about the Grotto.
On the mountain top, you get a really good view of the Cascade Moutains and Mt. St. Helens. There’s even nicer gardens and a monestary, but the real price of the elevator ride was the Meditation Chapel.
How else do you explain this very modern piece of cliff-dwelling architecture with a sci-fi glass encased virgin and child inside and a semi-circle of Lay-Z-Boys set around it for comfort in meditation?
The chairs were really, really comfortable. But having time-travelin’ Mary giving me the evil-eye was disconcerting.
There was a ton of stuff for sale in the gift shop. I needed some new holy water.
I got these Peeps for 25 cents at the grocery store yesterday. Serving size: 4 bunnies.
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