What on Earth Would Make a Man Decide to do That Kind of Thing?

Maybe you’re familiar with the Weird Al Yankovic song The Biggest Ball of Twine in Minnesota.  Maybe you’re not, and that would be unfortunate.  

In it the song’s unnamed narrator recalls the time that he took his family on a vacation trip to see the Biggest Ball of Twine in Minnesota (which, by the way, is a real thing.  It’s in Darwin, Minnesota).  The song is a loose parody of the narrative folk ballads of singers like Harry Chapin and Gordon Lightfoot.

As the song reaches its musical climax he sings out in a rapturous spirit of wonder and awe:

Oh, what on earth would make a man decide to do that kind of thing?

Oh, windin' up twenty-one thousand, one hundred forty pounds of string

What was he trying to prove, who was he trying to impress?

Why did he build it, how did he do, it was anybody's guess

Where did he get the twine, what was goin' through his mind?

Did it just seem like a good idea at the time?

Our family hasn’t been to see the Biggest Ball of Twine (yet…) but we took a similar road trip this morning to see the Grotto of Redemption in West Bend, Iowa.  And the little voice inside my head that often gets me into trouble was singing,

Oh, what on earth would make a man decide to do that kind of thing?

The grotto – actually a conglomeration of nine grottos – was the life work of Father Paul Dobberstein (1872 – 1954), a German immigrant to the United States and a Roman Catholic Priest.

During his time in seminary he became critically ill with pneumonia and was very close to death.  As the tour guide explained it to us, “this was before penicillin; all he could do was pray.”  He promised the Virgin Mary that if she would intercede for him and if he lived to become a priest, that he would build a shrine for her honor.

Oh, what on earth would make a man decide to do that kind of thing?

It really is a magnificent work of art; but not in conventional ways.  It reminded me of outsider art.  Using stones of multitudinous varieties, sea-shells, petrified wood, stalagmites and stalactites and glass, Dobberstein built a monument to the glory of God.   The grotto devoted to the birth of Jesus was constructed from 65 tons of petrified wood from Montana!  The rocks and minerals were collected from all 50 states and from countries around the world.

Some of the stalactites that were transplanted from other caves were placed into the Grotto of Redemption with the intent to allow them to continue to grow.  Small holes were left in the roof of the cave to allow rain water to flow past mineral depsoits and to continue the slow drip by drip by drip growth of the formations. 

Dobberstein died before the grotto was fully completed, but the work was finished by a parishioner and the priest who followed him.  It took 80 years. 

At one point, the grotto featured two live bears that had been donated to the project.  Really.  Bears.  But, sadly, a four year old girl was hurt by one of the bears and they were put down.  (One of the bear’s pelts is displayed in the museum.) 

Oh, what on earth would make a man decide to do that kind of thing?

Whatever it was that drove him, I’m thankful to Dobberstein for his devotion.

The brightly colored rocks in this photo aren't actually rocks.  During the years of the Great Depression, Dobberstein couldn't afford to pay the shipping fees required to bring in the huge amounts of rock necessary for his project. So, clever man that he was, he asked his parishoners to save all their scrap glass.  He melted them down along with broken bits of old crayons and then when the slag glass and crayon mix had cooled he broke it into the pieces that he would use to make the intricate formations in the grottos.  He also used melted Coca-Cola bottles - specifically for their green hue - to create a number of "mountain streams" that run through the grotto formations.

(My ten year old son took several  of these photos for me.  Thanks, buddy.)