TuzigootJournal: Dillon Wrap

As I noted in previous posting, we attended church Sunday morning. Was really a pleasant experience. The preacher was away in Los Angeles attending seminary for the summer. Her sub was her husband. He had a friendly, natural air about him. At the beginning he had people shaking hands and getting acquainted. Then he said, we’re ready for the prelude now. The pianist said, Well, I hope I’m ready. She did a fine job, I thought. The worship leader got up to read scripture and he said, I only heard a couple of mistakes. The man in front of us turned and said, That’s her husband. And so it went.

Mr. Preacher did have a very good communion Sunday sermon. The symbolism: By taking symbols representing Jesus into us, we are saying we want to be more like Him. This realization came late for him, after he was already a preacher’s husband, but pretty uninterested in the whole communion thing. One Sunday, a voice told him, Go forward for communion. Changed his life.

The man in front of us was a retired minister - ancient, but strong in voice. He ran the communion service his way because he had the authority to do so.

We thought it was unusual for a husband to be subbing for his preacher wife. It was even more unusual. She had just been assigned to the church in Dillon; previously they were in far NW Montana, 350 miles away. He still has a business there, so he was commuting from back and forth to Dillon. Don’t know if it was every weekend or not.

After the service they had snacks and more social time. We stayed – food. A couple sat down across from us and we started visiting. We learned that they were responsible for this notable house across from the park where we heard bluegrass Saturday night. They spent 11 years restoring it. When they started it had been divided into five apartments, so they had a lot of work to do to return it to something like its original configuration. Their family grew up and they decided to sell it. Didn’t want to have to paint it a second time, he said.

He worked at the university in Dillon (Montana University Western, it’s called), in computing; she’s been doing volunteer work since the kids grew up. He also said he’s a published humorist. We didn’t get their last name, but plan on tracing it down and finding some of his writing, if possible.

Sunday afternoon we drove about 40 miles SW to Bannack State Park, a preserved ghost town. This was the first gold rush town in the state and was territorial capital for a short while before the gold activity to Virginia City moved the capital there. (I think it’s interesting that commerce came into the territory along gold rush lines, rather than the Missouri River trading route of Lewis and Clark. )

Here are a few Bannack pictures. No ice cream shops here.