I’ll let my photos and a few quotes from the mission’s early years speak for themselves, and I’d love to hear what you take away from them.

The village of San Jose at Tumacácori lies seven leagues to the south of Guevavi and one from the Presidio of Tubac, in open territory with good lands. In this village they have a church and house for the Missionary devoid of all ornament and furnishing. According to the Census Book, which I have here before me, there are twenty-two married couples, twelve widowers, ten orphans, the number of should in all ninety-three. (Fr. Antonio de los Reyes, 6 July 1772)

Tumacacori…has twenty-three families. This is a village that is somewhat convenient to its fields. Although its waters are not the most abundant, it has the relief of having them nearby. (Bartolome Ximeno, March 5, 1773)

Joseph María of the Divasadero. Today, March 19th I anointed Joseph María with the holy oils. He had already received the water (of baptism). He is the son of Juan Nuñez and Rosa Samaniego. His godmother was María Bojorquez. (Joseph de Torres Perea, Minister for His Majesty, 1741)

The road is ill provided with water and is dangerous because of the enemy. Farther north there are no Christians whatsoever, but only many heathen tribes who lack the illumination of the Gospel and knowledge of Christ. (Fr. Joseph de Torres, March 16, 1744)

They have a very good ear for music, can sing the Gregorian chant from books…though they cannot read, except the choirmaster, yet they can sing in unison from beginning to end. (Fr. Phellippe Segesser, around 1730)

Sonoitac, eleven leagues distant from the headquarters at Tumacacori, has twenty-six families. However, there are only eleven women to be found among them because of an attack made by the Apaches about two years ago in which most of the women were killed where they had taken refuge in the house that was built for the Padre. (Friar Bartolomé Ximeno, 1776)

This morning the Apaches fell upon us on one side of the village, fighting with us in an attempt to take our lives. They drove eleven mares away and of the nine stallions that the mission had, they left eight maimed and wounded. (Bartolome Ximeno, March 5, 1773)

My Governor and Commander: I find a lot of tallow stored at this mission. There is much pinole…and more than 200 fanegas of corn from last year. I inform you of this in case it is needed for the campaign. (Juan Batista de Anza, Captain of Tubac, March 15, 1767)

I…asked Jose Padilla, an Opata Indian and resident of this mission, and Gertrudis Leon, an Indian who comes from the gentiles of the Yuma nation, if they wished to be joined in marriage. Having received their affirmative answer, I solemnly united and veiled them in true and holy matrimony the same day. Known and present witnesses were Jose Maria Montano, Tomas Castro, and Ramon Montano.(Fr. Narcisso Gutierrez, May 31, 1819)

In the year of our Lord 1825 on the eighth day of March, I, Father Ramon Liberós, Minister of this Mission of San José de Tumacácori, baptized a boy of about six years from the gentiles of the Papago nation, on whom I placed the name of Miguel and surname of Borboa. Godparents were Francisco Zapata and Esmerencia Mesa, children of this mission, whom I advised of their spiritual relationship and other duties. (1825)

The greatness of the missions…will be heard in music and the choir of singers. (Eusebio Francisco Kino, 1695)

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I was in Fargo last week to lead an Open Space session and a Genius Workshop for Jodee Bock and the wonderful people that she always gathers for her annual Bigger Small Talk Summit.

The Scout and I arrived on Sunday, the events were Tuesday and Wednesday. On Monday we drove north of the city to see whatever we might see along the infamous Red River. I had my camera along, but found the flat landscape and ubiquitous grain silos uninspiring. The day was gray, and the color of the sky offered a close match for the color of the silos. The snatches of river that we found were lined with debris and broken trees, and didn’t seem camera-worthy. I also felt uncharacteristically reluctant to snap photos of weathered faces peering out at us from beneath the bills of John Deere caps.

In Fargo though, the intersection just outside our hotel mesmerized me. I clicked my camera’s shutter button a mere dozen times during the days we were there, and nine of the shots are of the corner of 1st Avenue North and Broadway.

Back home, while viewing my paltry photographic booty, The Scout was greatly amused by my fixation on 1st Avenue North and Broadway, and I was puzzled by it. Why?

I came up with several plausible sounding reasons but they all felt hollow; rationalizations after the fact rather than resonant truths.

My experience with 1st Avenue North and Broadway, and its aftermath, reminded me of a hard-won lesson that I too often forget: the key to understanding is understanding that there are things I will never understand.

Some matters are best left to experience and don’t bend themselves toward intellect. Many large matters, such as Love and God, are like that. And some smaller matters are like that as well, such as my fascination with First Avenue North and Broadway in Fargo, North Dakota. Let it be.
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