The CWE

I was in St. Louis the other day for a meeting at an office located on the Central West End (CWE). This area is a great mixed use area with shopping, dining, businesses and homes. You’ll see all types on the CWE from folks dressed to the nines to a grungy guy with multiple piercings walking his dog past the trendy types sitting at the sidewalk tables outside a restaurant.

On this trip, I noted a woman coming out of the local gourmet grocery putting her items in the basket of her bicycle. While I sat waiting on the light to change, she pedaled off. We were experiencing some of our hot and humid Missouri weather that day and I couldn’t imagine being on that bike. I would have liked to walk around after my meeting, but it was just too hot for me.

The CWE dates back to the 1800s and runs into Forest Park. It’s a vibrant area.

There is a cupcake bakery that calls my name Every. Single. Time. Bissinger’s chocolate, a St. Louis institution, is another temptation for me.

I remember my first trip to the Central West End. I was in college and was in St. Louis with friends. It was summer, and I think every college student in St. Louis was hanging out there that night. Over the years, I’ve dined there, shopped there and just hung out. We took some travel writers there a few years back for a festival and just let them wander around. We had a hard time getting everybody back at the appointed time because they were having so much fun.

It’s just that kind of place.

Fireflies

It’s that time of year. As I pulled into the driveway one evening, I looked to the side yard. The flickering lights of fireflies took me back to my childhood. I sat in the car enjoying the sight and remembered chasing them, catching them and putting them in jars (seems so cruel now).

But fireflies are just one symbol of those fabulous summer nights. There’s something about summer, when the daylight seems to stretch on endlessly; I remember chasing rabbits through the yard in the evening, while my parents sat on the front porch (what can I say, they’re Southerners).

I remember wishing on the first star and gazing up as that one and many others twinkled above our heads. Those evenings were about the simple things. And those things, being with family and simply appreciating a beautiful summer night, were all that mattered.

A Visit to the Water Lillies

I don’t know much about art. I can’t really talk about lighting or composition or brush strokes. I like what I like. In fact, I when I took the “easy A” art appreciation class in college, I got a B.

One style I do know and appreciate is Impressionism. There is something about this style that speaks to me. I can identify it, though I may not be able to tell who painted it. There are several famous names from this period including Manet, Pissaro and Renoir and probably the most famous, Monet.

Monet was prolific, painting well into his senior years. He painted a lot of outdoor scenes and has a series of water lilies that are very well known. This summer, three of those water lily paintings have been reunited at the Nelson Atkins Museum in Kansas City. One painting regularly hangs in the Nelson; the others are normally in St. Louis and Cleveland. I went to see them last month. They are displayed horizontally side-by-side and art lovers could sit on benches in front of the paintings and just soak them in. I overheard murmured conversations about the play of light over the grouping.

I just thought it was pretty. No need to dissect it.

I also enjoyed some of the works of Thomas Hart Benton, a Missouri native. When it comes to his work, I will say that I do love his use of color and the way his paintings convey movement. But that’s as far as my art conversation goes.

The Nelson has other cool stuff, such as suits of armour. I imagine that gear had to be horribly uncomfortable and really hot when those Europeans went on the crusades in the hot deserts of the Middle East.

I had a great day at the museum. While I’ll never be an art connoisseur, as I said earlier, I like what I like.

Churchill in Missouri

I am a huge history nut, and I am particularly fascinated by World War 2. I spent an entire day in the National World War Two Museum in New Orleans, and left only because they closed.
So I’m ashamed to admit that it took me forever to check out the Winston Churchill Memorial, in Fulton, Missouri, just 25 minutes from my house. Like many of us, I overlooked what was right under my nose. It was close at hand so I always figured I had time to go.
Churchill was a towering figure during WW2, but he did so much more. He’s probably most famous for his Iron Curtain speech, which he gave in Fulton, and more specifically at Westminster College. He was accompanied by President Harry Truman, a Missourian.
So how did Winston Churchill end up in Fulton? Connections. A Westminster grad was an aid to the president and brought the invitation to his attention. The president added his encouragement and it happened.
Finally, I made it a point to visit and learn more. The museum is a treasure and traces Churchill’s life from his early days through his most famous moments.
Copies of letters between Churchill and his parents, his wife and others dot the exhibits, giving a glimpse into his personality and helping to explain how he became the man-and leader-that he did. The museum traces his early military and political careers; I learned about his time as a war correspondent and how he participated in World War 1.
Of course for me, the WW2 years were the most important. I spent a lot of time on the rise of Nazism and the war years. There is an exhibit where visitors can identify planes hung from the ceiling. The silhouette tells whether the plane is German or Allied. During the war, it was important to be able to identify the plane quickly. Friend or foe?
There’s a great film about the war narrated by another Missourian, Walter Cronkite. And then the Cold War and the speech; the real title is Sinews of Peace. Such a big story for such a little town.
The museum is housed in The Church of St. Mary the Virgin, Aldermanbury, a London church destroyed during the Blitz. It was reassembled in Fulton.
The museum is entertaining for all ages and for those who love history a lot like I do, and for those who just know a little bit.

Where has the time gone?

It's been more than a year since I posted. In that time I've changed, as we all do over any period of time. Most times, we just don't realize it.

In my case I started working on eating better and working out more. Then I slacked off. I thought I was going to get an opportunity to teach a class, though not enough students enrolled to make a class.

I handled the rehearsals for our Miss Fashionetta, which meant twice-a-week dance rehearsals for about three months.

And I changed jobs (going back to my true love). Now I'm back in the tourism world, where I was when I started this blog. It's called Missouri Travel Girl and I haven't shared many of my travel stories lately.

I need to do better. I have stories to tell, like the Rams game I went to on Halloween, that I tried my hand at glass blowing, visited Wilson's Creek National Battlefield and that there are plans for a National Blues Museum in St. Louis.

There's so much to share. We'll see how I do.

A Real-Life Love Story

This is a real-life love story.

Yesterday, I attended a memorial service for a woman I've known my entire life. She was 101. Her husband passed in 2000; he was 96 or 97.

They were still traveling the world in their '80s. They, along with a few other seniors I've known, are the reason why I don't think of people in their '60s and '70 as being old.

All my life, this couple just was (If you know what I mean). They just seemed to have been made for one another. When I learned their entire story, this seemed even more so.

It seems they had first met in college, but someone's parents didn't approve. They went their separate ways, marrying others. She divorced. Something that wasn't done much in that time. He and his wife had a daughter.

His wife died suddenly after their child was grown. He reconnected with his(true?) love. His daughter gave her blessing; she was off living her own life.

Of course the townspeople were "appalled." People always have stuff to say. But they were married a year later. They were together for 41 years. I can't imagine either of them with anyone else, because that's all I ever saw.

The lesson in this for me is that you must live your life for yourself and stop worrying about what other people think or say. If they had listened to the folks, they would not have been together and had all those years.

She nursed him at the end of his life when his health declined. At his funeral, she stood there ramrod straight (her posture was as good as any Marine's). Now, they're together again.

This is a real-life love story.

From one extreme to the other

I partipated in a facilitated discussion today about women, love and life. It was sponsored by Zeta Phi Beta sorority at Lincoln University.

The conversation ranged over a wide variety of topics. At one point though, one of the women remarked on the lyrics of current music. Many of us felt the music was inappropriate and not respectful of women.

Later I plugged in my iPod and dialed up my Jackson 5 greatest hits. In the song "Maybe Tomorrow," MJ poignantly sings "You are the book that I read. You are the song that I sing. You are the four season of my life." While he was only around 12, he really touches you as he sings.

What happened to that kind of music? And what does it say about us that we now shake our behinds to "back that thing up?"

I left that gathering and attended the football game between Lincoln U and Morehouse. Known as "The House," Morehouse is one of the more prestigious HBCUs in the nation, counting men such as Martin Luther King, Jr., among its alumni. Lincoln, once known as the "Black Harvard of the Midwest," has turned out its share of successful alumni as well.

Today, LU did not perform well on the football field, though the Marching Musical Storm put on yet another fabulous performance at halftime. As is often the case at HBCUs, no one gets up at halftime, but stays to enjoy the show.