repost 'The Little Jerusalem, St. Bonaventure, New York.'

just to share-from an ex-communicated catholic10/17/2012---02/05/2016

The Building of the Stations

The Stations of the Cross at St. Bonaventure Cemetery were built in 1926, under the direction of Fr. Thomas Plassmann, OFM. They are in a circular pattern to make outdoor processions easier. In order for the Stations to be built on the desired site a few graves had to be moved to the back of the cemetery. The Stations are built of red brick, like many of the buildings of St. Bonaventure University, and the pictures are formed by lovely mosaics. The building of the Stations was sponsored by Q.W. Ketcham of Crum Lynne, PA.

According to a document in the St. Bonaventure Cemetery's records by Louis Waryncia the members of the St. Bonaventure Seminary would make the Stations of the Cross every Monday and Friday afternoon at 4:30pm. Waryncia writes further that the Stations of the Cross became known as 'The Little Jerusalem' due to their symbolic recreation of Jesus Christ's walk to Calvary Hill.


When I was homeless, I spent a couple of nights sleeping in the St. Bonaventure Cemetery where my parents, and ancestors were buried. In retrospect, I wandered aimlessly, and wondered, 'Why has my church abandoned me.' Why has my family and the congregation for whom I served in the military, to protect and defend; now forsake me, and my numbed bones, and 'bonehead', of a cerebral charleyhorse.

Who there at St. Bonaventure University, or the parish of my youth, cared about a mental outpatient from the Veterans Administration. A former Roman Catholic who married a divorced woman with three children, children of a fellow brother in arms who had an alcoholism problem from his PTSD.

I was an outcast, a pariah, ostracized by nearly all who had supported the government which drafted me, and sent me to the other side of the earth, to fight and kill people who never knew WHY? And neither did I.

And yet-i found charity from strangers of many faiths, common people of their own spiritual FOOTPRINTS, who smiled, and showed me compassion. My family, with notable exceptions, treated me as a stranger, alienated from them by my absurd belief, in my own path, of anger management, which I chose.

That of an Amish 'X' Marine corpse of One Tin Soldier.

(where the 'x' is the variable to be searched for in the complex differential equations of life.)

© 2010 3D Divine Deadbeat Dad ( - 3/11/17

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