Brother Dominic Miles 1755-1785 March 4

Brother Dominic Miles 1755-1785 March 4

Riding from down town on Grand Avenue in Carthage as the street numbers get bigger, I glimpse a sign to my left as I pass an intersection. In English and a language I don’t recognize, the sign identifies the occupants of the block-long collage of beautiful buildings and grounds I am passing. When the light turns green at the next intersection, I turn left. And then left again after half a block into the grounds. Past dozens of parked bicycles behind what looks like a school, I come after another left turn into an open circular plaza between white limestone buildings. A statue of a woman rises high into the sky in the middle of the plaza. I stop and dismount my bike directly in the path of an approaching man. I stick out my hand.

“Hello, my name is Ed Chasteen. I’m riding ten thousand miles for charity. Today I’m here in Carthage. I’m intrigued. Can you tell me what this place is?”

“I’m Brother Dominic. This is CMC, short for Congregation of the Mother Coredemptrix. We are a community of Vietnamese Brothers and priests.” Brother Dominic has lived here since 1989. He is preparing to become a priest. He has completed his four years of philosophy and is beginning his four years of theology. “My job at this time is to care for the retired priests who live here,” he tells me.

I tell Brother Dominic about the Human Family Reunion we are planning to hold at William Jewell College April 26 and invite him to come and bring others. I see other men dressed in brown coming from buildings and crossing the plaza as we talk. I ask him if only men live here. “Yes, we are a monastery. And we do not go out. We serve one another here.”

I would like to talk further with Brother Dominic. But he and I have duties to perform. I pedal around the grounds after I leave him. I see the Vietnamese Martyrs Auditorium and the Garden of Peace where hundreds of names are inscribed on small metal tablets. Then I wheel back to the sign at the corner of 19^th and Grand to see the name that first alerted me to the hidden human treasure tucked into this one block of a small Missouri town. In English and Vietnamese the sign identifies this place as Brother Dominic had told me.

“I have a story for you,” I say to the young woman at the desk when I walk inside The Carthage Press on South Main Street. She leads me to another room and introduces me to Glenita Browning. Glenita listens to me and comes outside to take my picture on the bike. I told her that I hoped to return to Carthage and teach bike safety in an elementary school and my book, How to Like People, in the high school. She suggested I go see Lynn Williams at the police station. “He’s in charge of bike safety in the schools.”

Detective Williams is helpful. He makes a phone call to Dr. Glen Coltharp, Assistant Superintendent for Curriculum for the Carthage School District. Dr. Coltharp is in a meeting, but Kelly Campbell, his secretary, invites me to come by his office. I’m soon there. I give Kelly a Mickey Card and a map of Greater Liberty, showing the city of Carthage on its southern boundary.

Then I bike back to the Econo Lodge where Bobbie and I slept last night and where she still sleeps. Shortly before check out time at 11, we leave. I drive her past the square, where sits the magnificent Jasper County Court House. Then past the monastery where I just talked with Brother Dominic. From 11:30 until one o’clock, Bobbie looks through the chapel at Precious Moments while I explore the nearby roads and hills on my bike. Barbecue sandwiches at The Ranch House, home of “Serious Barbecue” bring a pleasant conclusion to my 30 miles of biking on this southern edge of greater Liberty.

I hope to ride more of my 10,000 miles this year in this good place. If someone invites me, I will come.

Rayville Baking Company Miles 2230-2260- March 22

I spot a small hand-lettered sign as I ride C Highway through Rayville, headed for Lawson. I've ridden more than 40 miles by a circuitous route from Liberty when I see the sign. Rayville is a tiny town of 204. I'm not expecting a place to eat. The sign sits at ground level. Black, hand-lettered script on a white board: "Bakery Open, Cinnamon Rolls, Breads, Pies". With an arrow pointing up the street to my left.

I wheel to the left. Next door to the Calvary Baptist Church in a small frame building, I find the Rayville Baking Company. Jason Van Till welcomes me inside. He and the fritters and doughnuts and scones and other goodies spread in the glass case draw me in and make me want to stay.

I explain to Jason that we plan to route our bike ride for 100 riders through Rayville the Saturday after Memorial Day and I am looking for a rest stop. "I fell in love with your place the moment I stepped through the door. Our riders will need a bite to eat and a rest room." Jason gets his dad on the phone as I read their brochure: "We have resisted the temptation to use the cheapest inputs and sacrifice the flavor, nutrition and satisfaction which comes when you've tasted the best."

When Cliff Van Till comes on the phone we quickly decide that his place needs to be on our route. Cliff recently moved his family here from California. Cliff is a native Californian and has been growing vegetables, grains and nuts for over 25 years. His family has developed a line of specialty foods, including farm products, artisan breads, pies, and pastries from their own freshly ground whole wheat and unbleached organic flours.

Missouri lured the Van Till family. A friend was pastor of the Presbyterian Church in Rayville. Good farmland was available. Now the Van Till's own 200 acres. They will grow fruits and vegetables. They have free-range chickens and will have hogs. Rather than the San Francisco Farmer's Market where they used to sell their goods, they have a bakery. When word gets out that this California treasure now resides in a tiny Missouri town, they will come. Those legions of folks who remember good taste and fresh air and open spaces. They will come.

Jamie, Jason and Brian Van Till do not leave home for their schooling. "Missouri is home-school friendly," Cliff tells me. "We have always home schooled our children." And a fine job they have done with them, judging from my brief meetings with them over the next few days. In my years of riding all the country roads I can find, I somehow never have come to Rayville. I would not be here now, except that Rich has routed our ride through here. Even then I expected that we would pass through the town with hardly a notice. That ground-level sign beside the road spoke to me. Now in the space of a week I have been three times to Rayville. I have not yet met Mrs. Van Till. But I will come again.

I now know that I want all our riders on May 31st to stop by the Rayville Baking Company to meet the Van Tills. We have placed a brochure describing the bakery in each rider's packet. I'm asking riders to spend a little money at the bakery. Then go and tell all your friends about this good place. May our bike ride through Rayville and to its bakery begin the magic in that line from Field of Dreams: "Build it and they will come."

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