Dawn Patrol

Fisheye View of the Grand Basin from Atop Art Hill

Fisheye View of the Grand Basin from Atop Art Hill

Memorial Day weekend is here, at least mine is finally here. Other people (You know who you are.) had skipped out of work days earlier. I knew that today’s workforce would be lighter than normal, when I pulled into my parking space at work. The lot was unusually empty, but not as empty as it was when I left work. Many of those that did make it into work showed up late and left early. I had the fortitude to make it through the work day, because I rode in the park this morning. I woke up at five this morning, to a cacophony of predawn birds, chirping through our open bedroom window. I could have just snug the comforter tighter and rolled over and gone back to sleep, but instead I got up and journeyed down to our now quite dry basement (Yea for the sump pump!) and rode out into the dawn’s early light. It was a cool (45° F), crisp, calm, clear morning. I rode east, squinting into the rising sun.

I followed my regular course until I reached the far end of the park, then I began to ramble around somewhat aimlessly about the park. I ended up touring a selection of venues for this weekend’s entertainment: The Science Center is opening a new exhibit on ancient Egypt this weekend. The African Arts Festival is at the Worlds Fair Pavilion this weekend. Finally, this year’s Shakespeare Festival premieres Twelfth Night tonight. These were just the possibilities within the park’s environs. Researching this post by way of checking the paper, I found a number of other possibilities: There is the Greek Festival for vittles. I’m sure that the garden has something going on too. Trailnet has their Great Pizza Ride on Monday. There is a blues festival downtown. We won’t need to drive hundreds of miles this holiday, I’m sure Anne and I will find lots of fun things to do about town.

Signs of Summer

Part of Twelfth Night Set

Part of Twelfth Night Set

Last weekend, I was bicycling in the park and came upon the under construction set for this year’s Shakespeare Festival. The play will be Twelfth Night. What will likely be the most striking aspect of this set had already been erected, a giant full moon. Preparation for the Shakespeare Festival is a tangible sign that summer is rushing fast upon us. The festival officially begins next weekend, Memorial Day weekend, and runs until the day before the Muny season begins, a summer long season of song and dance.

Anne finished her month-long stint supporting leave no child untested last week. This week she quickly found herself booked until the end of the school year, which is as soon as next week. How many more days to go, Anne?

School’s out forever
School’s out for summer
School’s out with fever
School’s out completely
– Alice Cooper

What would summer in Saint Louis be without some summer heat? To that end, Mother Nature flipped on her furnace yesterday and we set a record high for Tuesday. Hopefully, this won’t be one of many like last year. Otherwise, here we go, back to global warming temperatures and global warming denials.

This leads me to another undesirable aspect of the looming summer season. No, I’m not speaking about those hot summer days. I know a lot of people who actually revel in this hothouse season. Although, these same people usually have a Body Mass Index of zero. Nor am I speaking of that perennial summertime pest, the mosquito. I am speaking of that most awful aspect of summer, Washington politics. In days of yore, when I lived in DC, summer was a quiet time of truce between the warring parties. This was because like Saint Louis, Washington has the most atrocious summer weather, both too hot and too humid. Politicians wisely fled town, in order to spend more time with their constituents. At least that is what they told us. Then with the advent of central air, Washington politics went 365/24/7.

Last summer’s hubbub was all about the budget, full of debt ceiling standoffs. This year’s summer is shaping up to be a multitude of administration scandals. We’ve got Benghazi, that IRS/Tea Party thing and the latest, an AP/phone records dustup. Dealing with the last one first, all I can say is, you don’t get the Patriot Act that you want; you get the Patriot Act that was enacted. If you didn’t want the government to snoop on you, then you shouldn’t have made it the law in the first place. People who surrender their freedom for security end up with neither. What I really don’t understand about this summer’s political agenda is why are we going to waste time on the Benghazi/IRS/Tea Party scandals. Would not Congress’s time be much better wasted trying to repeal Obamacare again?

Prodigal Son

Dave Is Back In Town For Mothers Day

Dave Is Back In Town For Mothers Day

Dave arrived in town on Friday afternoon. He came back home to celebrate Mothers Day, but he also had to license his car. I took the afternoon off to see him, but then I got greedy and tried to sneak a bike ride in too. I was at the far end of the park when he got home earlier than I expected. By the time that I made it back home, he was gone. He had left his car at Telle Auto, for a state inspection and then walked over to his friend Kennard’s. Later Anne called; she was at the Wood, waiting for the rest of the teachers to show up. Telle called then, the car had passed and was ready for pickup. I walked over to Telle and then drove it to the licensing bureau. I was waiting there when Dave called; he was back at Telle, wondering where his car was. I told him where I was and that I was headed to the Wood. He asked me to call him, when we left the Wood.

Anne and the rest of the testy testing team were there, when I finally arrived at the Wood. They have just completed this year’s standardized tests, leaving no child left untested. This being Teacher Appreciation Week, these teachers were appreciating most of all a Friday afternoon libation. At the beginning of testing season, the signs on the doors read, “Testing, Do Not Disturb”. By the end, some wag had altered the signs to read, “Disturbing, Do Not Test”.

We called Dave on our way home, but got no answer. Dave eventually showed up, stayed for a few minutes and then was out the door again. He was not seen nor heard from again until like a vampire count, he came crawling back to his coffin among the morning shadows of dawn’s early light. The sound of his key in the door caused Anne to wake with a fright. She thought that someone was breaking into the house. Kennard is now the manager of a miniatures store. He, Dave and a couple of their friends had been playing war games there all night long. The acorn has certainly not fallen very far from the tree.

On Saturday, Anne and Joanie disappeared to the Laumeier Mothers Day art fair. When the boys were growing up, this was one of Anne’s usual opportunities to step out. Since the one boy in town was ‘napping’, I busied myself with chores and another bike ride. Returning home again, I found Dave sprawled across the couch, but conscious. I suggested going out for lunch, which he was up for. I took him to Gringo, the same place that I had taken Anne for her birthday. Our other son Dan is much more forthcoming about his doings than Dave is; Dave is just naturally more reticent. We like to joke that we are just not cleared to his comings and goings. Taking matters in hand, I decided to employ extraordinary means of interrogation, not water-boarding, but rather a pitcher of margaritas. Gringo makes a potent margarita.

Since he was last home over Christmas, the boy has been busy. Over spring break he did a whirlwind tour of America’s major metropolitan areas: Boston, New York (He tried to see Ashlan.), Washington and Chicago. It turns out that Dave was arriving in Chicago about when we were leaving. He drove to these cities with two guys who will become his new roommates in the fall. They’re both undergraduates, but both Dave’s age. They’re Indiana boys who came to Purdue via the Marine Corps. Dave has been rooming the last two years with two Asian Indian graduate students. One of these guys is graduating, while the other is studying in Switzerland. Future travel plans include a week’s vacation in Costa Rica, followed by a conference in Montreal and the cabin on the 4th.

Desert Moon with Thorns

Desert Moon with Thorns

Desert Moon with Thorns

What with all of my caterwauling yesterday about a washed out weekend, it didn’t rain today. Still it was a dreary grey day. It misted in the morning, so I busied myself with inside chores, dishes and laundry and the like. I went to the mall, but escaped with only a minor mauling. Shopping for women’s clothing in the presence of a female co-worker felt a little creepy. I saw her, but pretended not to, she must have done the same. My next stop was Whole Foods, which was a bit of a mistake. Whole Foods is a store that purports to be all about being natural, organic foods and doing the right thing for your body, but I always come away feeling that it is really all about wretched excess. I escaped as quickly as possible with my small $50 bag of groceries. It had dried out enough to mow the lawn, which I did. I’ve got to keep Buck the city inspector happy. I don’t want any of his nasty, nasty summonses, no sir. I had enough energy left over to go for a little bike ride in the park, which I did. The rain or at least the threat of rain was enough to empty out the park. There were very few pedestrians and almost no fellow cyclists. I barely made quota. What there was plenty of, were brides. Bridal parties were stacked up six deep, waiting for their photo-op at the Grand Basin. There were stretch limos, party wagons and a charter bus, but the prize goes to the wedding party in the wagon train. In the center of this train was the big horse-drawn wagon, hauling about twenty guests. It was flanked fore and aft by more conventional horse-drawn carriages. This party had its own personal police escort too. One Saint Louis police car led this mini parade and another brought up the rear, impressive.

May Day



This morning I bicycled in Forest Park. Yesterday, I also biked in the park, but today was May Day. The accompanying photo gallery shows some of the sights that I saw today. I launched in the predawn light, arriving in the park at dawn. The morning mist lay heavy on the golf course’s fairways and greens and made for a great photo-op. As I began my first circuit around the park’s habit-trail I heard chanting coming from the vicinity of Art Hill. I detoured off the bike path and made a beeline towards the source of the sound.

On top of the hill, the sun was a little higher in the sky than down below, but it was still quite low in the sky. Its low angle nicely projected the statue of Saint Louis’s shadow onto the art museum’s wall. Adjoining Saint Louis was a morning yoga class doing sun salutations in the dew wet grass. I heard the chanting again, only this time from below.

I caught up with the source of the sound; the Wash-U ROTC class was doing PT in the park. The kids seemed pleased with the paparazzi attentions of a bicycling old coot. Later, I shot a low-speed photograph of me and my bicycle’s shadow. All of these perambulations made me late for the main event though. When I arrived in front of the Jewel Box, the May Day revelers were already packing up their Maypole. “You’re too late, come back next May”, admonished one of the revelers. His revelry had left him famished and he was anxious to get to Steak and Shake for breakfast.