We Have All Been Here Before

In the day-to-day hustle and bustle of our working lives, our sense of deja vu can easily be overlooked. This sense may be reawakened at any moment, of course, but often those of us with lesser psychic powers must rely on a foreign setting to achieve such insight.

On the St. Charles Street streetcar in New Orleans in the 1980s, for example, I once stared at the pattern of a woman's print dress and felt instantly transported back to the 1940s, when Tennessee Williams resided there.

Or walking the streets of Baltimore in the early 1970s, I remember seeing old rag men hunched over their reins, as swaybacked nags, festooned with a colorful, feathered headdresses, clopped down narrow streets lined with rowhouses, the sound of wagon wheels conjuring up Edgar Allen Poe's world.

Time is a blur waiting to be captured.

Second Spring

Before this week's cold snap, I noticed that dandelions had begun to bloom, again.

Signs of the Times

We will know that the war in Iraq will soon be over and all of our troops safe, when those stupid yellow-magnets finally disappear from people's automobiles.

Port of St. Louis

A couple weeks ago, the Mississippi Queen, one of the only stern-wheel steamboats to still ply the river, anchored on the St. Louis levee to board passengers for a fall junket. Unlike this week's hoopla over the 40th Anniversary of the Gateway Arch, the tall vessel came and went with little fanfare. But for those who happened to see the sight, it conjured up a timeless vision of this city's marriage to the great brown god. There was an era when such an embarkation was common place, a daily event. Now such rare sightings are almost dream like. Just below the Eads Bridge, the roustabouts once again took on supplies for the journey, as passengers arrived, their luggage heaped on the cobblestones.

Life on the Mississippi goes on.

Here Lies Eliza Poole

After a long hiatus, I've returned to occasionally jog in Tower Grove Park, a Victorian-style walking park laid out in the 19th Century on the original estate of Henry Shaw, who also donated the land for the nearby Missouri Botanical Garden, commonly referred to by St. Louisans as Shaw's Garden.

In his will, Shaw, an early mercantile mogul, specified that "colored" people, who were then still slaves, be prohibited from using the park. That part of his last wishes is obviously no longer honored, but the quasi-public park is still governored by an independent board of governors who oversee park policies and maintenance of the land.

The narrow parcel between Magnolia and Arsenal runs for a mile and a half, from Kingshighway on the west to Grand Avenue on the East. Its rolling landscape was long ago planted with a wide range of trees, including Ginkos, Osage Orange and Sweet Gum, to name a few.

Among the mysteries harbored in the park is the tombstone of Eliza Poole, which can be found in the southwest sector in a grove of trees that allows dappled sunlight to filter through in autumn. According to the carved stone, Eliza died in the 1870s, if memory serves me right. Instead of "rest in peace" or some other typical inscription the word "oak" was chiseled above her name. Perhaps it's not a grave marker at all, but a monument to a tree named in Eliza's honor. But nowadays there is no oak tree by the stone.

Canada Squirrels

Squirrels not geese. They're black in Canada at least in southern Ontario. Maybe further north near the North Pole there are white, polar squirrels.

The enigma surrounding the ebony-furred critters is akin to the mystery of black helicopters. Here's one theory.

Meditating on the River

During his lunch break, the young worker had somehow perched himself on the park bench at Bellrieve Park in a full lotus position. He sat motionless, staring at the Mississippi River.

Judging by the trucks parked nearby, he either worked for the Missouri Department of Transportation or a portable tiolet company.

Near Miss by Ambulance Chasers

Waiting for a red light at 14th and Market, we signaled to the emergency medical technician who pulled up next to us that there was something wrong with his vehicle. A steam-like vapor was rising from one of the ambulance's rear wheels. Apparently the brake line had broken and brake fluid was leaking on to the exhaust. As he jumped out of the vehicle to check it out, a SUV filled with suits flew by, barely missing him.

"Just my luck to be hit by a truck full of lawyers," he said.

Strutting at Straub's

He wore a beret, a turtleneck and jeans. But the two characteristics that stood out about the old man, who walked into Straub's supermarket on Kingshighway in front of me, were his stature and gait.

Then I looked at this shoes.

He was wearing three-inch stiletto heels.

Just Say Amen

The group congregated in a vacant lot at Euclid and Natural Bridge one day this week, which wouldn't have been that unusual in North St. Louis except for the presence of gasoline driven electrical generators and sound equipment. Once it was all set up, a young man took a microphone and began preaching against the evils of marijuana and succumbing to peer pressure. The location doesn't get too much foot traffic and the anti-drug crew had set up the loud speakers some distance from the street, so I'm not sure how many people heard the anti-drug crusader's testimony. But I think the point was more to just express their convictions out loud.

They're-A-Goin'-Fishin'

The two men, one white and one black, walked down Natural Bridge with their fishing poles and tackle in the direction of Fairgrounds Park. Both Fairgrounds and nearby O'Fallon Park have fishing holes stocked by the Missouri Department of Conservation.

Wake Up and Smell the Coffee

If you ride down Clayton or Duncan Avenues in the morning, you can smell the coffee beans roasting at Ronnoco and Thomas Coffee Companies.

Shelter

With the coming of cool fall nights, the homeless are staking out their spots around town that provide a modicum of warmth. One favorite location is the rear of Barnes Hospital on Euclid across from the Metro stop. This week, I counted three indigents curled up on the sidewalks next to ventilation shafts.

On the same subject, I heard a possible urban myth this week that involved a young woman who camped out for tickets to the Nine Inch Nails concert only to be told the next morning by a security guard that she was sleeping with bums.

Autumn Colors

The woman exiting her car on Marconi Avenue had hair that matched the hue of the scarlet Maple growing next to the curb.

Urban Ag

Urban agriculture may sound like a contradiction, but each day a legion of city tractors are dispatched to North St. Louis to mow thousands of acres of vacant lots. In some blocks, there may be only one or two occupied residences standing. In others, none at all. Vast stretches of the city are now open ground. Perhaps St. Louis officials should find a way to bale all that hay and sell it to livestock owners in rural Missouri.

Thunder Cats and Ol' Boys

In the hood, an ol' boy is anyone who has survived to age 40 and mellowed along the way, whereas, a thunder cat is a troublesome youth prone to violence.

Slo-Mo Gathering at the Bandstand

The tai-chi practitioners stood silently in a circle next to the Tower Grove Park bandstand, holding their hands aloft as if to capture the rays of the morning sun.

Bladder Lock Down in the Hood

One of the differences between Fairgrounds Park in North St. Louis and Tower Grove Park in South St. Louis has to do with the "accomdations," or lack thereof. In Tower Grove, the Johnny-on-the-Spots are open for business. In Fairgrounds, the single portable toilet is padlocked, which begs the question:

Are those who regulate such pressing matters concerned that the predominantly poor, African-Americans who frequent Fairgrounds Park will use the pisser for its intended purpose or do they worry that someone will steal the urine?

I'd Rather Be in Philly

Short of traveling to the City of Brotherly Love, the best cheese steak sandwich west of the Mississippi is to be had at Mammer Jammer on Natural Bridge east of Union.

The Best French Bread in Town

Long before nuevo bakeries peddling fancy "baguettes" at inflated prices arrived on the scene, Amighetti's across from St. Ambrose Church on the Hill, in St. Louis' Italian neighborhood, baked the best French bread in town. The bakery, which gained a reputation for its poor boy sandwiches, still sells bread out of the original storefront on Wilson, which has a separate door from the more popular restaurant entrance on Marconi. For $1.99, a customer can walk away with a fresh, three-foot long loaf still warm from the oven sometimes.

Golf Carts and Law Enforcement

The flatbed trucks lumbered down Olive Street on their way to Busch Stadium this afternoon, carrying a load of police golf carts, which I assume will be used by the cops to patrol the area during tonight's playoff game against the Astros.

Northside Eateries, The Price Is Right

*The Country Girl Pie House at Union and Ashland serves fresh-baked pies and burgers, too. On the wall of the carry-out establishment is a shrine to a recently departed loved one who worked there.

*Billie Burkes place is on Billups Avenue south of Sumner High School a few blocks. It has about four seats at the counter, and just enough room on the other side for the cooks to grill the burgers, which are, of course, delicious. And if you come just before noon, you can watch the ghost-like television image of octogenarian game show host Bob Barker as he sells the American Dream on the The Price Is Right.

Which Way To Downtown?

The young man stopped in the parking lot of the Straub's supermarket on North Kingshighway to ask a fellow cyclist how to get downtown. He had an foreign accent, so I asked him where he was from. He said New York. When I pressed for more details, he said he had lived in New York for 12 years, but was originally from Israel. I pointed in the direction of the next stop light, which was the intersection of Lindell, and told him to hang a left. I had first advised him to take the sidewalk because of the heavy traffic, and then recanted. He was, after all, from New York. On parting, he advised me to ride safely, and then was off, his curly locks blowing in the breeze without a helmet.

Shattering Eviction

The man said that he lived in the old GMC utility vehicle that was parked across the street from junk yard on Martin Luther King Drive where crack dealers conduct business. After his pleas failed and the city workers booted the wheel of his mobile residence for non-payment of parking tickets, he took desperate action. Knowing he would not be able to pay his fines and that the tow truck was on its way, he began smashing the windows with an iron pipe.

Spamified

I've had to eliminate the comments on this blog because of spam from folks trying to sell dog coats and other crap.

Boom, Boom, Boom, Gonna Shoot You Right Down

Stopping for lunch at Penrose Park one day this week, I noticed five, spent .38-caliber cartridges in the gutter.

Bookmobile

I noticed the trend earlier this fall, when I spotted a youngster early one morning pulling one of those suitcases on wheels favored by air travelers. Now I'm seeing students of all ages using the same devices to carry their books. Farewell to the hunchbacks and their backpacks.

Putting Around Town

The gangstas around Fairgrounds Park have forsaken their Escalades and taken to driving golf carts to conserve fuel. The same vehicles have been spotted in Dogtown, but driven by white yuppies.