A Million Little Pieces Of My Mind

To say that Catholicism permeated my town of St. Augustine would be an understatement. It had, of course, been founded by a Catholic conqueror, Don Pedro Menendez of Spain. I had attended Cathedral Parish (Catholic) elementary school; I now attended St. Joseph Academy, a Catholic high school. Of course, I went to Mass every Sunday plus many weekdays as an altar boy. And we had a giant Cross looking over our shoulders at everything we did, so big that on any overcast night its sky shadows dominated the whole town.

Erected in 1965 to celebrate the city's 400th birthday, this gleaming, stainless steel cross stands 208 feet tall, making it the tallest free-standing cross in the western hemisphere. The Great Cross marks the approximate site where in 1565, the Cross of Christianity was first permanently planted in what is now the United States. It was built to commemorate the landing of Pedro Menéndez de Avilés, who proclaimed this site for Spain and the church, and named it Nombre de Dios, meaning Name of God.

Now, the thing is, I was totally into my religion and I really loved living in a place so steeped in history. I was also lucky that I had a sister who was willing to be a model for my photography; in that phase of my art, I felt any photo needed a person in it to humanize the setting and scale. (Later, I said the same of horses. Now I do dogs!) So when I made one of my periodic camera expeditions, Mary Joan often accompanied me, as she did for this trip to the Cross's location. (For comparison, here's a photo of her at the same location, a couple years earlier.)

The grounds of the Mission were (and are) a beautiful, peaceful place to stroll, meditate, or just enjoy the day.

I am no longer Christian and see the Cross as a symbol of the Church's 2000-year war on free thought and individuality that has absolutely nothing to do with the teachings of Jesus. Still, I value that time of my life and I'm grateful for the influence my Catholic upbringing gave me. Sure, I'll always be a recovering Catholic. But I'm a gratefully recovering one.