30 years ago. In the past, I would regularly get lost in South St. Louis. I have branched out
and now can be seen taking the Jefferson Barracks, or even the Poplar Street Bridge, into
Illinois. Sometimes, if I am feeling lucky, I will venture into Clayton, or Kirkwood or Webster
Groves. And if it's memories I'm looking for, there is nothing better than getting lost in old
South St. Louis, where a tavern (not bar) on every corner makes it hard to distinguish one
street from another. Old stomping grounds include The Hill and St. Louis Hills, and now
includes Arnold. A special thrill causes the hair on the back of my neck to stand up when I try to find specific places in the Midtown area or Downtown. Of course, I could write a novella about Forest Park.
Today, I attempted to find Riverview Nursing Home. Every thing was going smoothly
until I tried to find Bates. By the time I reached Oseola I knew I had missed it. A strange
feeling came over me. I felt sure Bates was the street I passed five minutes ago with no street
sign. I went, as my mother-in-law used to say, "around Robin Hood's barn," and took a
leap of faith turning onto the unmarked avenue. After going a few miles, there was a sign
and it was Bates. The rest of the directions were so clear I was able to pull into a parking
space in a few more minutes.
Thank goodness my daughter drove this evening when we went down to see the City Market
and Mall area. As I sat there waiting for "the younger generation" to climb in and out of
metal structures and in and out of water falls, fountains and rippling puddles, I was able to
see the new Stadium right in front of me. I could hear the fireworks across the street and
the Arch was just to the east of where I sat. The north leg was reflecting blinding sunlight
as the surrounding area began to slip into sunset. What beauty. What happiness.
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