I cannot recall a conversation with Brother Placid Gross that was not a delight. He is, foremost, a man of faith who made his final profession under the rules of St. Benedict in 1967. Ever since, as a monk in Richardton Abbey, he has been known as Brother Placid. He was born and baptized, however, in 1935 as Aloysius Gross, one of the sixteen children of John and Magdalena Gross of Emmons County.
Like most all Germans fromRussia, when recalling his youth, Bro. Placid adheres to a certain party line: We worked all the time, never had time for fun, they all say. He recently told a magazine author, “All I did was work. . . . In the morning, we did the chores and came in for breakfast and right after walked to school one mile.” Which I don’t entirely believe, because Bro. Placid is a fun-loving, even puckish, man, full of humor.
He made the New York Times in 2011 when the abbott liquidated the monastery’s cowherd, of which Bro. Placid had been the cowboy—actually in charge of all agricultural operations. Many were sorrowful on his behalf, and I’m sure there were unspoken regrets on his part, but not sorrow. Retirement as a farmer gave him more time for his other love, history, and more particularly, the folklore of the German-Russians.
A product of that transition: Bro. Placid’s book, published in 2024, Prairie Wisdom: Folklore of the Germans from Russia. I’m not sure but what the title, Prairie Wisdom, is a bit of an inside joke. I think the ever-self-effacing author on another day might call it prairie foolishness, but if he did, that would be in the spirit of 1 Corinthians. There is a reason why over the decades Br Placid has jotted down, and eventually published, 277 pages of the observations, aphorisms, proverbs, and witticisms of his people. The author advises we can read his book from beginning to the end, but more likely will sample from topical sections of interest. Now, three of his siblings died in infancy, but inasmuch as most of the rest of them have lived to be ninety or more, and Bro. Placid is out promoting his book at that age, perhaps we should start with the section on “Health.” Wherein we read,
One way to get rid of a wart on your fingers: promise yourself not to look at it for one full year. After one year when you want to look at it, the wart will be gone.
If you go outside with a wet head, you will get pneumonia and die.
If you eat snow, you will get polio.
And the ultimate cure-all: “Camilla [chamomile] Tea was prescribed no matter what the complaint. . . . Camilla has a soothing and relaxing effect, so it calms the nerves and eases the pain.”
I’m going to skip the section of Tongue Twisters because, well, I’m on the radio, and go to the Proverbs, the Sprichworten, for advice for our times.
Sauf dich voll und fress dich dick
Aber halt dich weg von der Politik.
Drink yourself full and eat yourself fat
But keep yourself away from politics.
You can order Prairie Wisdom ($25 + $5 handling) by sending your check direct to Br. Placid Gross at Assumption Abbey, PO Box A, Richardton 58652. He dedicates the book to his mother, Magadalena.
