My father used to be the pastor of this church, back when it was still a church. It was the first parish he ever served. He taught at the Art Institute of Pittsburgh during the week and preached here on Sundays. I was not born yet. Now this place is a thrift shop that sells used clothes, coffee mugs, and old paperbacks.
I gotta say, my father probably should have stayed in art. He was a good artist. But he came under the influence of a conservative preacher who told him the art-scene was bad--full of drug addicts and homosexuals--so he swore off art and went full time into the ministry. There's been a lot of bad religion in my family...
I tell people I grew up in a cult.
A guy in the church painted this hideous mural when my father was the preacher here. Just a curiosity. There are a lot of curiosities up in the North Country--like the guy a few miles south of Marienville who dresses in purple bell-bottom pants and a wizard's hat and stands out by the road for people to marvel at him.
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