Undies In A Bunch


Aeroshell and the Arch

Aeroshell and the Arch

I was first exposed to the phenomenon of Saint Louis parochialism the first year I moved here. At work, two senior Mac engineers were going at it. One was a native, while the other one was a transplant. I was new to town then and had my ears open to any advice on settling into this city. The problem here though, was that the advice offered wasn’t any good. The native engineer advised me not to go to Forest Park, because it wasn’t safe there. He also announced that he didn’t need to go up in the Arch, because he had seen it being built. The old transplant tried pushing back on this nativist propaganda, only to be dismissed as only a newcomer, to which he retorted, “But I’ve lived in Saint Louis for 34 years!”

Flash forward 33 years and I find myself in the shoes of that old transplant. We’ve raised two native sons of Saint Louis, who in turn have joined the ever-growing diaspora of former Saint Louis residents. We’ve worked our careers here and have plans to retire here. Saint Louis is my home and I considered myself a fully fledged Saint Louisan. I love this city and would be first to defend it from its detractors, but I still don’t have an acceptable answer to the question, “What high school did you go to?” I find the recent claim that Saint Louis is the most sinful city in America only worthy of derision. Sometimes though this sense of Saint Louis protectionism is over zealous. Such is the case over the recent umbrage being taken locally about what my former neighbor wrote.

The root of this tempest in a teapot was a June 8th New York Times opinion piece entitled, Loving the Midwest, by Curtis Sittenfeld. In her article, Ms. Sittenfeld first dishes on Saint Louis, but ultimately comes to love and then speaks her love for this town. It doesn’t take much though for some people to get their undies in a bunch. The article sparked immediate turmoil in the blog-o-sphere, along with letters to the editor. We only became aware of this mini controversy, after reading about it in this last Sunday’s Post-Dispatch. Really get to know St. Louis by Martin Daly took offense from some of Sittenfeld’s less than flattering observations about Saint Louis and its Saint Louisans.

As I said we were neighbors with the Sittenfelds. They were a quiet, relatively young couple who lived next to us during their first few years in Saint Louis. We would coo over their two young daughters, before they moved on. Reading her article, I was reminded of our own sense of loneliness, when we first moved here. Native Saint Louisans generally have their own rich lives, full of family and life long friends, with little room left over for newcomers. Our first friends were also transplants. We’ve been able to sustain friendship in Saint Louis through the vehicle of our hobby, bicycling. Still, neither Anne nor I can get more than a puzzled look, when we answer “Pioneer High School”, to that most stereotypical of Saint Louis questions.

Happy 60th Anniversary


Horsey, Bugs, le Marquis and Pooh

Horsey, Bugs, le Marquis and Pooh

Today is Anne’s parents 60th anniversary. To help celebrate this event Anne and her sisters conspired together. Bubs and Harry had planned to go to dinner last light at a fancy new restaurant, Logan’s, in Ann Arbor. Jane delivered a giant, gorgeous bouquet of flowers to their house yesterday morning and then arranged for a bottle of wine to be delivered at dinner and also left instructions to put the tab on her credit card. She then jetted off to Paris. I imagine when she returns, she’ll be hitting up her two siblings for their share of this party.

The morning rain finally departed and we launched for a steamy late afternoon bike ride. We stopped for a late lunch / early dinner at a new to us restaurant, the Saint Louis Oasis. It is located on Euclid in the CWE, just north of the parkway, across the street from Central Table. Oasis features Greek and Mediterranean cuisine. I had their deluxe gyro and Anne had their stuffed grape leaves. The food was quite good. I thought that my gyro was better than the fare at either Olympia or Spiro’s. Maybe this isn’t too surprising since Oasis is just around the corner from the Greek Orthodox church, famous for its Greek food festival.

A Chance Encounter


Trader Joe's too Close to LAX

Trader Joe’s too Close to LAX

We were going to do the Trailnet ride this morning, but someone wouldn’t get out of bed. I’m sorry to admit that that someone was me. So, instead we did a more modest city ride. We had launched from the house, were headed towards the park and were waiting at the interminable light at Clayton. This light was adjusted several years ago, when the New I-64 was closed for reconstruction. More time was given to traffic on Clayton, leaving longer waits to get out of the neighborhood. Why it hasn’t been switched back, I do not know.

So, we were waiting at this light and Mary rode up to us. Mary, of Phil and Mary fame, is a fellow Team Kaldis member. We’ve also bicycled Door County, Montreal and Quebec together. We’re neighbors and she had just ridden by our house, so it wasn’t so strange that she could conjure us up for a bike ride. We invited her to join us and her company made for a delightful alternative to a ride that we’ve done often enough to become somewhat boring, the run through Forest Park, to Tower Grove Park. We shared a delightful lunch at Local Harvest, on Morganford.

On the way home, Carl of A & M Bicycles came out to say hello, while we were waiting at the light in front of his store. Kickball season was in full swing in Tower Grove Park. One of the pavilions in the park had a huge throng gathered. As we wade through it, a woman on a loud-speaker system was telling the story of the passing of her husband and his funeral arrangements that included stuffing his internal organs into various animal headed Egyptian canopic jars. It was very strange. Finally, as we were ascending Wydown, a helicopter took to circling low over our heads, like it was looking for something. That too was odd, but offered enough of a tie in use the photo with this post.

Ghosts of Mister Bill


Ghosts of Mister Bill

Ghosts of Mister Bill

This painting with light exercise was a joint collaboration, between me and Mister Bill last summer at the cabin. That’s Bill in the photo. It’s after dark on the beach. Bill has a too bright LED flashlight that he flicked on for a second or less. He would stop, illuminate himself, walk a few steps and repeat. Like most of my Canon 5D photography experiments last summer, this one wasn’t as successful as I had hoped it would be. The combination of long exposure photography and the motion of the subject led to a blurry photo. It makes Bill appear like an apparition. The summer season is rolling around again and with it another trip to the cabin and with that more chances to play with photography.