Seaton Stained Glass

Also on this first day, I had wanted to continue my hand at photographing stained-glass windows so Mark drove to the Seaton Church and we gave it a go.  These are not ordinary stained glass windows, however.  These are the same windows we have stared at when we were just kids being forced to attend church.  These were the windows we gazed at while Mary Seaton and Bub Griffith warbled so loud I swore the pews were being rocked out of their bolts.  This was where Ila Mae would bang on the organ only occasionally missing a note and then looking out at the congregation and slyly smile.  We had the annual Christmas play here with all the town kids.  This is when older brother Philip closed his eyes during one year's skit so that no one would see him.  This was where, at youth group, we would play 4-square, a wonderful game of bouncing dexterity.  It was also where, as acolytes we would stay in the pastor's office during the church service and look at the marriage preparation books and those unusual anatomical drawings.  It was where Bill Seaton would respond to his mother's tap to stop passing gas with even more toots, thus turning this section directly behind them, where the Blythe's sat, into a rollicking sea of snickering suppressed laughter.  

It was where we married.  It was where we had services when we died. 

This is the same sign that through the years have had names such as Catlin, Soales, Cross and Garretson.  Declining membership has forced Seaton to employ guest pastors, Sunbeam pastors, and most recently non-ordained lay pastors.  

The guest book dates back to 1961.  Here, with dates from 1962 are my mother, Mrs. G.H. Blythe along with neighbor Doris Kingry and other Seatonites, Howard Shike, Dan Sims and shaky George Chandler.

A beautiful window that must have cost the church a pretty penny in its day.  No generic stuff for this place.  This lady has been standing vigil, overlooking whatever it is she sees,  for our parents and our lifetimes.  I don't know who she is or what she represents, but I hope that whatever it is she is looking at, or longing for, is worth the perpetual stance.  "Be ye also ready", written out between the upper and lower panes,  sounds ominous and/or hopeful, depending on your situation, I suppose.  The lower panel is a memorial to Mary Cabeen Crosby who is buried at Candor Cemetery.  She died at age 33.   

Grave of Violet Cabeen Crosby at Candor Cemetery, a few miles outside Seaton.  The folks are here, and I suppose its where I'll end up, too.

Pretty lady.  I wonder what she sees?  And who is she?  

Notice the varied colors in this close-up.  Now that's really nice.  Lots of different colors, seemingly without any connection to the surrounding panes, but if you look closely, the common color would be the earth/red palette.  I threw that sentence in to try to impress you with my artistic acumen and command of English.   

While I have strayed through the years, Mark and Holly have recently rejoined and are members of the Seaton congregation.  Some Sundays are for Golf, some are for God.

Stately and more traditional, the other window features Christ and some sheep.  The symbolism is typical but I always thought the sheep on the right had a vague resemblance to George Washington.

The hardware encasing the windows have "Rossbach & Sons Pat. May 10, 1910 Chicago " stamped on them.  For whatever that is worth in determining the age of the windows.  

And, as I have mentioned before, stained glass is not smooth and the molten glass is swirled and shaped in order to get the colors just right.  After that, an artist will draw the details on the figures and panes.  

The other windows are more mundane, yet still pleasing.   

I wanted to get some pictures of the pews and the lectern, and then downstairs in the kitchen and seating areas but Mark had a visitor from the Rural Water association, so our visit was pretty well finished. 

I was married here complete with doorman to keep paparazzi out.  That's another story.  My father had his funeral services here and other memories abound.  I recall Jay Kingry, youngest of the neighborhood kids had his funeral service here after an accident with his bike while a messenger in Chicago.  The bandage around his head in the open casket a reminder of how tenuous our hold on life really is.  John Seaton had his final services here and I had just bought a new pair of pants but forgot to take those long stickers off with size information.  A kind person pointed that out to me.  It was where Michael and I went when he was living with me in Galesburg to someone's funeral I have sadly forgotten.  Damn!  Who was that?  It had to be important enough to make the trip and with Michael, no less.  If I ever come up with it, I'll let you know.  Disgraceful loss of memory.

Stepping into the Seaton Church is like stepping into H.G. Well's time machine.  The same red carpet is on the floor.  The pews still squeak, although they are now cushioned.  The paint, if changed, looks the same.  The same artifacts and pulpit items.  The smell, the quiet, the patina of age, it all remains.