The Gateway City

Hellooo, St. Louis! Now this is a CITY! Skyscrapers, bright lights, congestion, restaurants, casinos, tourist attractions, shopping! Can I move?

Recharged batteries and a two-hour drive later, we're entering St. Louis. If I've learned anything in my two-year-sojourn away from D.C., it is the fact that other major cities exist besides those on the east and west coasts. Was I ever surprised to see how large this city is. My geography and history lessons with respect to St. Louis got lost in the annals of time, I guess. Of course, I knew that it is the home of the Rams and Cardinals. And the Gateway Arch. And what idiot doesn't know that it also the home to Anheuser Busch? Or the Clydesdales? But there is so much more.

Locate the hotel--Maggie was on her job. Throw down the bags and we're off. We only have a day and night to spare, so I'm determined to get in three of the things on my list: the Arch; the brewery; and a casino. First to The Gateway Arch. It could be seen from the hotel room's window, only two blocks away. It is gorgeous, if a towering arch of steel can be termed as such. It is located in a beautiful park setting, beside the Mississippi riverfront. There is a tram ride inside the Arch which, being the scaredey cat that I am, was politely declined. Horse-drawn carriages at the base of the park steps, and lots of river boats. Opposite of the Arch, downtown, is a replica of the U.S. Capitol surrounded by skyscrapers. Well, hold on, St. Louis isn't the capital of Missouri, is it? Naw! But it is so picturesque until...click click. "Why are you taking a picture of that? You don't know what it is." "I'll google it." And so I did. It is The Old Courthouse, home to the Dred Scott trial. Get out of here! I must avail myself of the library across the street and brush up on my history.

Back to the hotel. On the way, we passed a building with a marker reading that it was the site of a St. Louis newspaper where Mark Twain worked at one time. That man traveled quite a bit. Stopped in the hotel's pub and was enjoying some liquid refreshment when, lo and behold, a shuttle bus for a casino pulled up. A shuttle bus? We don't have to move the car? "Nope, just ask the concierge to call the casino and we'll come get you." Alright! Stopped at the desk, on the way upstairs, to ask that they make the call. Why would we want to do that? The casino has an underground walkway, called the Metrolink or "Link" for short, one block away. Are you serious? Alrighty then!

We're off. Food coupons in the pocket and limited funds for splurging. Feeling pretty good. Lumiere Place serves good food. And the slots were good to me. Or maybe it was because, for once, I had sense enough to leave while I was ahead. Since SF doesn't indulge, I relieved him from his people-watching duties and we headed back to the hotel. Good grief, I had forgotten the game was on. Didn't matter, we didn't find out who won until the next morning.

Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, we have to hit the brewery before we hit the road. It's 4 miles away from the hotel but on the route home. Lawdy Miss Clawdy, is this place huge, or what? It takes up blocks and blocks, a miniature city in itself, 100 acres. So, of course, we turned into the wrong entrance and found ourselves in the lobby of an office building, not the visitor's center. Huge statue of the trademark eagle in the foyer, made of silver, gold, and rubies for the eyes. Lawd, lawd. Click, click.

Up the street to the visitor's center, the facade of which is emblazoned with the trademark eagle. Click, click. Inside is a museum to enlighten the unenlightened--those of us who didn't know that in addition to Bud, it makes Busch, Michelobe, Rolling Rock, and some of those Baccardi malt drinks, among others. Detailed history of how it started, those delightful ads, fantastic beer steins, original wagons, what it owns; i.e., theme parks, etc. Click, click. This is where you gather to take the tour which ends with complimentary beer. I want to see the brewery but I don't drink beer. SF can have mine.


First stop is to see the famous Clydesdales--whoo hoo! Talking about pampered beauties! And HUGE! They are groomed for 5 hours each day! Their bridles, etc., are handmade. They live in palatial splendor! The stable in St. Louis was originally built by Anheuser or Busch for his horses in the 1800s. Crystal chandeliers, beautiful carved wood, wrought iron. Click, click. When I come back in the afterlife, I want to be a Budweiser Clydesdale.

Do you remember the commercial a few years ago where the Dalmatian was training a horse to become a Clydesdale? There's some truth to that--click on the link for more information. I passed on the brewery tour; putting it on the list for the next trip. It's only five hours away (taking the road marked St. Louis next time, thank you) and there is so much to see.

I took so many pictures on this short trip until I went through two sets of batteries and the memory stick just up and quit. Good thing we were headed back to the Big Rip!

Be blessed.

Mark Twain Country

After spending a day roaming the southern end of Missouri, we're refreshed and off to Palmyra, established in 1819. 1819!!! SF has an interview scheduled with the editor of the Palmyra Spectator, the hometown newspaper. Local boy makes good and all that!
It's just a small country town." It is, but with a population that is half that of the Big Rip's, it offers so much more. Ripley would kill to have a thriving business center, with very few empty stores, and a real, defined sense of neighborhoods. It is a compact town, whereas Ripley spreads for miles. Beautiful Victorian homes, "modern" homes, and the obligatory single or double-wide thrown in for good measure. If you ever visit there, you must take time to visit The Mark Twain Estates. There is some blight but surprisingly not as much as in other locales. And, naturally, being so old, it has some history, notably the Palmyra Massacre. The Union Army killed 10 Confederate soldiers because 1 Union soldier being held prisoner was not released.

SF has no family left there and most of the friends have moved to other places. However, he was shocked to be instantly recognized by the owner of the Ford dealership. Talk, talk, talk. While they reminisced, I took pictures. There was a beautiful model of an old Ford roadster, I guess that's what it was called, on the showroom floor. Instant service with a loaner thrown in so that we could take a look around. Hot dog! Abby's got brand new shoes!

On a whim, he decided to look up a friend's nephew who invited us out to spend a few hours that evening. GORGEOUS house sitting on five acres. The barn is as large as the house (almost) and ready and waiting for the mules he wants to obtain. Now I don't know why the obsession with mules (I looked up the cost; why not horses?) but that's what he wants. He and his wife are educators and very involved in the community. They've done well with three offspring who are proud grads of Spelman, Morehouse, and a Ph.D-in-training at Harvard. With all those degrees running around, you'd think that they'd be 500-wantabees but they were very down-to-earth and welcoming. I appreciated the hospitality.

Now it's time to tour "America's Hometown," Hannibal, home to Samuel Clemen's (aka Mark Twain). I am in pig heaven! How many times have you read Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn? I read them over and over again. So I am really psyched to visit the restored homes and museum. Click click! The river boat wasn't running; it was the end of the season but that's okay, I got to SEE it! So rather than load you up with photos, take a look at this link and you'll get an idea of what I experienced. Mark Twain Home

Hannibal has a population of 16,000 and is densely populated. It offers a little bit of everything, boutiques, WALMART, and a fashionable main street, replete with sidewalk cafes. They do love their dogs. I counted three pet places within two blocks of each other. More Victorians. It even has a "Lover's Leap" which overlooks the city and Mississippi River. Seems that two Indians, from warring tribes, fell in love...and when they were caught, jumped from the cliff to live together eternally. Sound familiar? Obviously, I didn't get to see everything it has to offer but I saw what I came for. I'm happy!

On to St. Louis.

Road Trip!!!

At last! I finally got a chance to leave the great state of Tennessee. To celebrate my latest trip around the sun and, finally getting some vacation time, SF and I hit the road to explore St. Louis, MO, and visit his hometown of Palmyra, MO, which just happens to be right next door to Hannibal, home to Tom Sawyer, Huckleberry Finn, and Mark Twain. Alright!!!

The stars must be aligned. I pulled up to the airport just as he stepped out of the door. Unbelievable! I'm either late and he's waiting or the plane is late and I'm waiting. Not this time. Home again, home again, jiggity jog.

We've got it planned. No rushing for us...have a leisurely morning, hit the road around noon. St. Louis is 5 hours from the Big Rip; Palmyra 2 hours from St. Louis. Seven hours to our destination. Hook up Ms. Maggie; hook up the cell; hook up the camera batteries. Everything is a go.

We're off. Breakfast in Dyersburg. 45 minutes later, if that, we're in Missouri--Dyersburg is just across the river. We've politely asked Maggie to take us via the quickest route so, when we reach the split for Rte.412, to the left, and St. Louis, to the right, she told us to go left. Woo hoo! We're going to cut time off of this 7 hour drive. Whiz through Kennett, MO. Oh, no! Can't spend ANY time in this burg. This is where they're trying to send that woman to jail for 15 years. Just a talking and a talking--amend that. I'm talking; SF is answering. Admiring the view. What's this? Turnoffs for Springfield and Branson? Hold up!! This IS NOT where we want to go! They are at the opposite end of the state!

Now, I'd looked at a map to see where Branson was in relation to St. Louis because, being a huge country music fan, it is on my list of places to go. So, I'd already knocked that out as being an option on this trip. Maggie is just chirping along. We're in the Ozarks! Up one mountain and down the next. Narrow, winding, steep roads with no margin for error. Towns with populations of 3 and 4 hundred people. SAY WHAT? Not a BLACK face in sight. Anywhere. Autumnal foliage in beautiful display but it's starting to get dark and we don't know where the hell we are. Got to rely on Maggie. Lawd, lawd. Please let us get out of these mountains before dark and back on a major highway, with a sign saying St. Louis straight ahead. Talking about being outside the comfort zone. See a sign saying that the road ahead is closed. Really? You know it is the road that Maggie has us on, right?

But the Lord looks out for fools and babies. As we go down the closed road, we meet two members of the road crew who show us on a map exactly how far off track we are and one offers to lead us back to the main highway. Hallelujah! Did I give praise too soon? He took off like a bat out of hell. His taillights disappeared in a flash. Guess he didn't want to be on those dark back roads, either. Finally, we reached a semblance of civilization and got directions to the main highway. Stopped at a Mickey Dee for a potty stop (thank you bladder for cooperating throughout this ordeal) and a quick bite. Walked in and all eyes were on us. Did I mention that there wasn't a BLACK face anywhere around in this neck of the woods?

Two hours later, we reach St. Louis. Bright lights! Thank you, Jesus! Maggie will never know how close she was to being pitched from the top of those mountains. Two hours later, we're in Hannibal, MO. It is a little after 10 p.m. A 7-hour-drive turned into 10. Talking about whipped puppies!

Here is the consolation prize. The young man at the desk in Hannibal said that the same thing happened to him. He was driving from TX to Hannibal and plugged in the shortest or quickest route and it took him all over east jablip as well. Something about if the route, no matter how circuitous, is just a mile shorter, then that is the route you'll take. From now on, I'm plugging in "most use of freeways."

Finger in Every Pie

After getting the royal run-around from the agency which disperses the funds for heating assistance, winterizing, etc., I received a short, to-the-point, form letter stating that I didn't qualify. Now, I may not have brought you up to date but here's what happened.

The energy assistance and the winterizing programs are handled separately. My intake session was repeatedly delayed by a computer crash which took two weeks to repair. QUESTION: How do you run an office with the computer on the blink for 2 weeks? When I finally came in for the session, I also brought the forms for the heating program, with all the required data. This was dutifully taken and put away. So then I get a letter stating that I had until a certain date to provide the Covington office with the information for the heating assistance program. Of course, it had been sitting in my mail box and the deadline had long passed. No problem, right? I had left it in the Ripley office on September 11th, well before the requested date.

Feeling pretty good about that, I called the Covington office and spoke to the woman in charge who, promptly and emphatically, stated that she didn't have it. ALL of her forms are placed in a locked box and delivered to her. Is that a polite way of telling me that I was lying? Tried calling the Ripley office; line was busy. No problem, I left early and swung through. Hellooo! I left these forms and the Covington office says that they don't have them. Great surprise. How could that be? A voice from the back wonders were they actually received? Oh, yes...a quick check of the log proved that an entry was made on September 11th. "Well, don't worry. We're having a meeting there on Monday and will get back to you."

So a week later, I make the call. "I haven't heard from you." Oh, she said just send proof of income and that will suffice. Okaaay. So I fax it over. A week later, I get a notice that I don't qualify. Now listen, chi'ren. I should have received special dispensation just because they ******d up.

Irate Missy did a little digging and guess what I found? The executive director of this organization is doing quite well. Got himself quite a little empire down here.

He is a graduate of Covington High School class of 1974, and the University of Tennessee at Martin class of 1977. He worked on his master’s degree at Memphis State University. He received a B.A. Divinity, from Arkansas Institute of Biblical Studies. Currently, he is the pastor of Hickory Grove Baptist Church in Brownsville, TN; he is co-owner and licensed funeral director and embalmer of Barlow Funeral Home in Covington, TN; he is also a Tipton County Commissioner and presently chairman of the Finance and Administration Commission. He currently serves on the State Health Planning Advisory Board. In 1996, he was appointed by the Speaker of the House to serve on the Judicial Evaluation Committee.

Additional committees he has served on are Foster Care Board, Recreation Committee, Industrial Board, Chamber of Commerce, Drug Free Tennessee, and Tennessee County Commissioners Board of Directors; he is a former member of Tipton County Hospital Board of Trustees, Mississippi, Tennessee, Arkansas Development Board, and Tipton County Executive Democrat Committee. Projects and activities include Chairman, Bluff City Funeral Directors Association, Regional Vice-President, Tennessee Funeral Directors & Mortician Association, Advisory Committee, Tri-County Federal Savings and Loan Association, U.S. Census Committee, Tipton County Branch N.A.A.C.P., Rural West Tennessee Advisory Council, Frazier Alumni Association, U.T. Martin Alumni Association, Evening Star Lodge, #62, Master Mason, and Tipton County Fine Arts Council.

He began his career as Assistant Credit Manager at Julius Lewis Department Store in Memphis, TN. In 1978, he went on to become a loan officer at Union Planters National Bank. He began in the Tax Enforcement Division for the Tennessee Department of Revenue in 1983 and worked as a Field Representative for sixteen years. He became transportation director for Delta HRA in October 1999, and in July 2002 he became Executive Director.

Yep, doing quite well. Now, I wouldn't begin to accuse him of anything underhanded because I've never met the man or even spoken to him...but his staff? Yeah, I can accuse you. And next time, I'll hide my car.