ALIEN PLANET AND THE NEW YEAR

My grandchildren zoom around face book, twitter and other technology as if they were on skate boards. They urge me to learn how to use the new technology. Even though all this seems like a link to an Alien Planet to me, they helped me set up my blog.

As a result, I have been able to keep up with friends, colleagues and family around the country, Paris, Denmark and with new friends here in the mid west. My list of readers has grown since I started. Frequently and infrequently I hear from readers by email, sometimes in appreciation, sometimes with a critique.

I take you, my reader seriously and feel a special kinship with you for the small and large events each of us experienced during 2009. I hope I have put a human face on events that may at times have seemed to large to encompass within this small blog.

Thank you for the time you share with me. May the New Year be a good one for you and yours.

2010? ASK THE QUESTION!

This morning, radio BBC carried a panel of journalists, academicians and pundits. The panel reviewed the significant events of 2000 and commented on what issues we will need to deal with in 2010 and the future.

The discussion dealt with the global economy, this country's use of the military in the middle east, and the steps we need to take to assure our safety. But what it came down to was the question, how do we protect ourselves from those whose ideas and actions would do us harm, while not forgoing our own ideals? It seems to me that raising the question would serve us well.

In this age of terrorism, how do we protect ourselves? Do we abandon law and our ability to change laws that are ill conceived? Do we substitute might for right? Do we replace thoughtful deliberation for quick fixes?

Examining such questions could provide us with a steady compass to take us to 2010 and help us understand, we are not alone in this age of terrorism.

HOLIDAY LESSON ON DIAMOND ST.

When I was a child my family lived on Diamond Street in Philadelphia. Different faiths,ethnic shops and markets were in the neighborhood. I think about Diamond Street at this time of the year because of a lesson I learned there so long ago.

My family celebrates Hanukkah. We lived next door to a neighbor who celebrated Christmas. During one Hanukkah, our neighbor invited us to come in and see her Christmas decorations. The tree was upstairs, but its lovely smell filled the house.

The tree stood in a corner. The branches beautifully trimmed with sparkling ornaments. Beneath its branches was an entire village with lighted houses, people, and moving trains. There was even a circus with animals and a working Ferris wheel. There were two dolls wrapped for my sister and me. It was a dazzling sight.

Even though I thought there could be nothing more beautiful than my twinkling Hanukkah lights, or as exciting as the story my father told, when we came home I asked my mother why we did not have as beautiful decorations as our neighbor. She explained there are many different faiths, each one beautiful in its own tradition.

The lesson I learned from her on Diamond street has served me well all these years. I can enjoy, respect and admire the tradition of other faiths without abandoning my own, especially at this time of the year.

TWO MEN ON SOCIETY'S FRINGES

Two men living on the fringes of society, were depicted in the December 22nd edition of the New York Times. Ironically, one was famous and lived in luxury, the other was unknown and with little more than the cloths on his back.

I was struck by the irony because of the riveting front page photo of Anthony Marshall, 85 years-old, as he heard his sentencing in a New York courtroom for "syphoning millions from his mother, Brook Astor." The camera showed a defeated, bitter man.

While on the editorial page, "Appreciation" was given for Ben Kennedy. Verlyn Klinkenborg wrote that the little known Kennedy died just before reaching his 87th birthday in his subsidized housing in Helena, Mont. The writer went on to say, because of Kennedy's appearance,one "could be forgiven for thinking he was a street person." Yet, he was mourned and remembered for the way he helped others.

Two men, one alive, used to a life of luxury and scorned by others. The other, making do with little, sharing what he had with others and seen as a benefactor in death. Ironically, both living on the fringes of society.

A SMALL CHILD CALLED TERESA

One of the pleasures I have had over the years was meeting people of prominence, sometimes referred to as VIPs. Sometimes it might be a while before we would meet again. But when we did, I was always delighted when they remembered me.

On a recent Sunday morning, in a coffee house that I frequent, I was absorbed reading my newspaper, enjoying my coffee when I noticed 3 year old Teresa
standing next to me. We had spoken before. She had come over to say hello and startled me by remembering my name. We chatted a bit. Then she ran back to her father.

Before I left, I went over to tell her father how intelligent I thought she was. He told me he was surprised that Teresa had approached me as she did as she is normally a very shy child. As I walked home, I realized little Teresa had given me the same kind of pleasure I used to feel when I ran into a VIP who remembered me.

ENJOYING ART OF ANOTHER CULTURE

The Saint Louis Art Museum sits high in the middle of Forest Park overlooking fountains and imposing statuary. It has the enthusiastic support of people but still needs more members. I visit there often to visit one of its unique exhibits or to hear and see the Metropolitan Opera's simulcast from New York. The Museum's recent Exhibit of "Five Centuries of Japanese Screens" took my breath away.

Some of the history of the life and times of the Japanese people is depicted through delicate painting, calligraphy and poetry. I was especially intrigued by one screen's art work showing the story of "The Tale of Genji" by Murasaki Shikitsa, which is about the life of Japanese people who lived centuries ago. I latter learned that the story is considered the world's first novel.

The words colorful, delicate, intricate, and exquisite can be used to describe this Art Exhibit, one that ends with the words, "To recognize greatness is greatness."

GOODALL: GLOBAL EXTINCTION?

Jane Goodall's work with wild Chimpanzees in Africa is well known. But in a recent interview with Bill Moyers, she explained that now she is traveling the world to speak to people about our role in taking care of the globe's environment. She has spoken with people in 14 different countries urging them to work to reverse our trend toward global desecration.

According to Dr. Goodall, the earth has been through Five Periods of Extinction and unless we change our habits, we are on the verge of another such period. While others, like Charlton Heston, feel there is no reason for concern. Before his death, Heston said, "This old earth has been around for a long time and survived," dismissing all findings and information in a cavalier way.

Maybe Heston could part the Red Sea, but if there's any chance that our species along with creatures and habitat will survive, it will be because of the inspiration and knowledge Jane Goodall provides.

EMMA, HOBEN, GENE KRUPA AND LIFE

The nice part of being near my grandchildren here in St. Louis is watching them mature and grow, even taller than me.

Emma (15) is into creative writing, going beyond the current fad of vampires, though intrigued with them. She composes her own melodies and lyrics on the electronic keyboard and sometimes enjoys the Opera with me. She is hooked on horseback riding and would rather deal with horses than human beings. She cherishes her privacy and offers her mother and me fashion tips.

Hoben (14) is outgoing and versatile in his interests. Always inquisitive, as a youngster he used scraps of paper, material, whatever he could get his hands on to create his own structures. Some ideas worked. Some did not, much to his frustration. A trait which he has almost overcome. He is an accomplished chess player, avid reader, and athletically into baseball and soccer.

Every once in a while, I will attend a school event with them. Last week, I went with Hoben to Grandparents,Grand Friends Day at his school. Part of the program included musical selections by the school's Orchestra and Jazz Band. The drummer in the Band, was a tenth grade student, Chris Gatewood who had all ages taping their feet to his beat, and who reminded me of an up and coming Gene Krupa. I know there was a lot of controversy about Krupa who died in 1973, but there was no denying his talent with the drums..

As I enjoyed Chris Gatewood's performance, so reminiscent of Krupa's, I looked across the table at Hoben, thought of Emma and wondered, where will life take both of them?

EVERYTHING CHANGES:BRIDGE TOO!

Bridge was never my forte. Oh, I knew how to kibitz my way through a game but I was never asked back. I was unable to remember what was being played and by whom. And of course, my partner brooked no sympathy for my lack of memory. The game of bridge had not entered my mind for a long time until recently.

I sometimes go to a small coffee shop near me. It is usually frequented by business and professional people on their way to work and by students or retirees reading or working at computers. Some stay longer then others but each has his/her chosen table. A few weeks ago, a group of women came in and sat down at a table marked, "RESERVED 9am to 11am." I was curious and asked them who they were.

They told me they were a group of eight women from different sections of the city who play bridge at the coffee shop once a week. "It saves, cooking, serving and cleaning up afterward." They met while working out and decided to keep their "synapses sharp." Two are still working part time while the others are retired from the fields of professional health care, teaching and retail. They wanted me to know, "this is not your grandmother's bridge." Each held plasticized "cheat cards" which listed the game's new rules. Their oversized cards were dealt and held by strong hands.

I stayed with them through one hand, watching one player bid a no-nonsense 5 of diamonds. Unfortunately, she went down a trick with a flourish. This was no place for a kibitzer so I left.

"PANIC AND HELPLESSNESS"?

The news this past week has been one of shock and awe. Shock at killings and continued abuse of financial and military contracts. Awe for the strength of our legal system that dares bring international criminals back to the scene of the crime to met out justice.

With all the bad news, I really needed the advice of a friend who suggested, "Get out of the present and sigh back into perspective." So, I opened an old book, "The Healing Heart: Antidotes to Panic and Helplessness" by Norman Cousins and found a discussion of the lethal and healing power of words. I realized how great a role words play in keeping a perspective.

Gail Collins deflates large egos in her New York Times column. Bill McClellen brings events down to human size in his St. Louis Post-Dispatch column. Mitch Schnieder helps remind me of everyday problems in his article, "Outdated Chicken Ordinance-" for The West End World neighborhood newspaper. Verlyn Klinkenborg demonstrates the possibility of greater harmony between the land and people in his NYT column.

After reading anyone of them, panic and helplessness seems conquerable.

A DOG CALLED QUEN

Yesterday, on my morning walk I encountered a dog called Quen. Big, with an all white coat, I spotted him in the distance coming toward me. At first, I could not make out the breed. He had the head and build of a German Shepard, but I had never seen one that had an all white coat.

As I came closer, it was apparent that he was a young dog. He was frisky and friendly straining at the leash. His owner confirmed that he was a German Sheppard not quite a year old. I asked his name. We've named him Quen. Quen? Yes. We named him that because his rambunctious behavior reminds us of Jean-Paul Sartre's character Quen.

While Jean-Paul Sartre's philosophy is not unfamiliar to me, I could not remember a character called Quen and I thought the name was quite a stretch. But come to think of it, one-year old Quen sure embodies that spirit of "there is no right or wrong."

SCARY HALLOWEEN?

It is not goblins, monsters, or ghosts that scare me this Halloween. It is how easily we have accepted the abuse of language and less than factual information. When elected officials or appointed ones, print and media pundits, or ordinary people twist and turn language to further their opinions that is scary.

Some examples: the press and media are called "candidates" when they are not running for office; we say the economy is recovering when the economy consists of more than stocks, bonds and banks; when a health plan is considered an anathema to our way of life yet it could benefit people; when "Mission Accomplished" is proclaimed when the mission is in doubt; and finally when we say, guns don't kill people, but they do when people use them. That is scary.

All this abuse of language, and less than factual information sets up a mist greater than any real or imagined spider web that keeps clarity and understanding from us. That is more than scary. That is dangerous!

INVASION OF THE LADYBUGS

St. Louis is suddenly invaded by ladybugs, as are many other parts of the country. People are being surrounded by swarms of them. I was startled by one who landed on the window of my apartment 15 floors high.

What to do? There are all kinds of suggestions. Use the vacuum to swept them up. They are harmless. Leave them alone. They are only looking for a warm place to come in out of the cold weather. But if they are squashed they will omit a foul odor and leave a stain. Call an exterminator.

I'm no entomologist, but if one did get in here, I would catch her on my finger, open the window and sing to her, as children do: ladybug, ladybug go on home, your children are home alone or something like that. Both this little verse and my voice ought to do the trick.

GO PHILLIES! CATCH-UP CARDS!

It must be a wild time in Philadelphia. The Phillies are in the World Series! When they win, it's hard to imagine the celebration for this much loved team unless you have witnessed it. If all goes well, and they take the Championship, the Team will be escorted for parts of Broad Street, the City's main thoroughfare that runs North and South from the Navy Yard to the county line.

Fans pack the sidewalk. Streets are closed. The Team rides a flat bed truck amid confetti, thrown kisses, babies held in the air, as the Mummers Band plays "Oh Dem Golden Slippers," and people break the police lines and strut down the street.

I don't know if Philadelphia holds a candle to St. Louis' designation as a sports town, but I do know that if the Cards come into their own, there ought to be a parade. It should run from the Stadium, up Olive until it becomes Lindell Boulevard and come to Forest Park. Oh yes, and everybody ought to learn the Mummer's Strut. All this, from one who is less than a sports authority, but does do a mean Mummer's Strut.

BOOK BATTLE: DAVID AND GOLIATH

The New York Times reports that the American Booksellers Association, which represents independently-owned book stores, is asking the Justice Department to investigate predatory pricing by Amazon, Wal-Mart and Target.

Left Bank Books, independently owned, is close to where I live. I go there to browse, on occasion to buy a gift for someone, or simply to explore new and old titles. When I open the store's front door, the wonderful smell of paper, old leather and glossy new covers greets me as if to say "hello." Browsing is invited and a gorgeous black cat claims ownership to both floors of the store. Posters,notices, book group readings, and customer requests line the Bulletin Board.

There is no espresso counter, but there are shelves and shelves of books. Every once in a while some item that a reader might enjoy is displayed and the sales personnel are helpful and knowledgeable. I was reminded of all this when I read about the battle between the huge book outlets and the little guy. Me? I'm rooting for David!

CORRECTIONS AND ACKNOWLEDGMENT

Yesterday, I posted comments about the market going to 10,000. The actor, whose name was posted was wrong as was the name of the song. The actor's name is Robert Preston. The name of the song is "76 Trombones."

My reference to Fred Sherman was made without knowledge of his death last month.

TEN THOUSAND: SNOOKERED AGAIN?

When I lived in Philadelphia,Fred Sherman had a radio show about "the market." He came to my attention because of the distinctive, sing song quality of his voice. He would say often, "The market has no where to go but up." His timing made me think of Burgess Meredith of "78 Trombones" fame. I did not know Sherman, although he and I would meet sometimes at meetings. When I did encounter him, I would make light of his prediction that the market had no where to go but up to 10,000 and higher.

This fascinated me because at the time, I was still under the impression that stocks and bonds were traded and bought because investors wanted to buy into a company's plans for research, development, new production or ideas, and management stability. I was sure people with an understanding of what it takes to maintain and grow sound, fair markets surely would not be snookered into a scheme to simply move paper.

But this weekend, as I heard the news that people on the Exchange were wearing white caps with black 10,000 on them I thought of Sherman. Funny, I thought we had learned our lesson. Yet, here we are, snookered again!

FINALLY! WE JOIN 21st CENTURY

Listening to President Obama's speech at the United Nations today made me feel as though our country was emerging from the dark ages into the 21st Century. The President asked individuals and nations to move beyond their comfort zones of belief, doctrine, culture and religion toward respecting those differences,even as he acknowledged this would not be an easy task.

He renewed Treaties and Agreements made in good faith between ourselves and other nations with whom we share this planet and its resources. Treaties and Agreements that were tossed to the wind by an arrogant belief that this country needed no other country to secure its future. He spoke truth to power when he said just as we have been disliked as a nation because of our posture, so too must the United Nations now find its voice in helping to find solutions to complex problems which it may have avoided in the past.

Today our country regained its balance and a place of importance as we meet the challenges of the 21st Century.

SPECKLED BEAUTY?

She flew in quickly and alighted just a few inches from my feet. She was a European Starling, a bird of little beauty and one often considered an ugly nuisance. This one caught my attention. She stood on one limb, the other withered and hanging under her, as she pecked on crumbs dropped by people at the outdoor tables.

She remained long enough for me to study her and marvel at her ability to hop beneath empty tables and chairs that stood in her way. When she was finished, she took off strong and quick, withered limb or not.

I had to admire this speckled, ugly bird for her perseverance and her ability to come to terms with life, handicap or not, bothersome as she might be.

HORSE RADISH

This time of the year, my mother and grandmother traveled "downtown" to Marshall Street in Philadelphia. The Street was small and lined with stores and push carts that sold everything from food to clothing. Their mission was to find horse radish roots which they ground, added beet juice and sugar and served with the New Year meal.

All this came to mind as I sorted through an old file and came across a brochure describing the International Horse Radish Festival held in Collinsville, Illinois. The brochure said the Festival attracted people "from around the Midwest and the country to eat this perilous herb." An exaggeration? I don't think so. Had a jet been available, I know my mother and grandmother would have headed to Collinsville in their search.

I don't know how they could tell one radish from another or which would produced the hottest sauce. But their horse radish reduced strong men to tears and cleared every one's sinuses.

SEPTEMBER 11, 2001

On this day, eight years ago, we remember the innocent lives lost at the World Trade Center. To retaliate we sent, and still send others in pursuit of questionable enemies. Before that day, bombings and shootings in public or private places were thought to be deviations, not necessarily having an impact on all of us. In one day, all that changed. We were forced to recognize our vulnerability as individuals and as a nation. The wound had been to all of us.

For many years, we have lived safe and secure in our country. We have been protected from the rest of the world by two magnificent oceans. We were blessed to have good neighbors at each border, north and south of us. We were invincible! Can we still afford the luxury of thinking we are not vulnerable? If we are vulnerable, how do we protect ourselves from calloused manipulation of institutions and false information?

Just as we remember innocent lives lost eight years ago, so too do we need to recognize and respect our vulnerability as individuals and as a nation. Let this be our tribute to those no longer here.

PATROLLING THE INTERNET

The concern about misinformation on the Internet, radio and television is real. I admit to being a nervous Nelly about "official" judgement to determine the worth of any content. Standards to weigh the honesty of information that comes to us via the Internet, in print, television or even in conversation are not always workable. The question is what if anything do we do about it?

The answer is we are our own censors. We choose not to accept anonymous or offensive messages on the Internet. We push the delete button. We choose not to hear or watch information which is less than reliable. We push the off button . We choose to read something that is less then honest. We line the kitty litter with it.

Neither law nor official decree can do for us what we can do for ourselves or like Pogo once said, "We have met the enemy and they are us."

WATER, A TEMPTRESS?

Whether ocean, river, lake or pond, the allure of water has called to us down through the ages. It matters not that rivers over flow. We want to be as near to river banks as possible. It matters not that bays and inland waterways parameters are temporary, we build marinas on them. Winds rant their fury on the ocean. The ocean rants its fury on coastal homes and communities, but live there we must.

When water becomes too unruly, we try to put this temptress in her place. We build barriers of sand bags. We build jetties made out of tires, cars,and buses that look like a Rube Goldberg contraption. We defy her, returning, rebuilding, always challenging her, never admitting our own limitations in the face of her strength.

Poets sing to her charms. Adventurers sail her. Children build sand castles near her even as they hope that she does not come too close. Nations have fought over her even as she has destroyed life and land. Still, we fight to be by her side and never seem to learn that water is one temptress that cannot be calmed once provoked.

MUSUEMS:EXPANDING HUMAN EXPERIENCE

Museums document individual and community experience. I had never heard of a place called Gee's Bend in Alabama, not until I toured the Missouri History Museum. On exhibit, were quilts artistically hand crafted by the women of Gee's Bend along with a documentary about their lives.

Nor did I know much about the fashion industry when I went to the New York Metropolitan Museum until I visited the exhibit, "The Model As Muse: Embodying Fashion." The show captured the impetus for the growth of the fashion industry, the models, photographers, and designers. Many visitors could identify a particular dress that was de rigueur in the exhibit.

And in the Phillips Gallery in Washington, D.C. artists explored the emotional, sensual and tragic aspects of human experience since the 50s, some of which were new for me.

Whether a museum displays objects, paintings or sculpture, one's view of the community and the world at large is expanded.

WHAT MAKES OUR COUNTRY SAFE?

I watched the Town Hall Meeting held in Retson, Virginia recently. The roar of the crowd, the hooting and whistling reminded me of the accounts of how the Romans roared when Christians were fed to the lions; or the roar of American citizens at lynchings; or the strident "Sieg Heil" as murder of Jews took place in Europe.

Our security, our safety depends on two things: respect for communal law and behavior, and trust in the honesty of each other and our institutions. Both are missing at these Town Hall Meetings. It is not just blogs, mocking radio show hosts, TV pundits, or the news media that is creating this environment.

We have a role in all this. Do we listen to other points of view? Do we question words of hate? Do we belittle differences? Do we reason out of fear? We need to recognize that our safety, the Country's spirit depends on the respect and trust we accord each other.

GOLF AND TEN YEAR OLD ADRIEN

I could never understand the allure of golf. Why chase a little white ball and hope to sink it in a hole in the ground? Why not simply walk, hike, or sprint across the green?

On a hot, humid day in Florida, my great nephew Adrien played in an 18-hole Competition for ten-year olds. Before he began to play, a wheel came off his tripoid. It was unusable. It meant that he would have to carry his 14 pound golf bag with 12 clubs. Without complaint, he hoisted the bag onto his butt and carried it, walking the 18-hole distance.

He played with serious intensity. Sometimes pacing. Sometimes squatting to measure distance. No notice was given to a stray bird or animal nor to his mother and I as we watched. He used a lot of adult judgement to win the competition, clearly a challenge he relished. None the less, like anyone his age, he teased and spritzed his sister when they were in the pool together.

I was proud of him, but I'll stick to the golf cart or walk the green rather than chase a little ball.

IT'S A SMALL WORLD AFTER ALL!

My grandparents crossed an ocean to reach this country more than a century ago. They came under duress and had an arduous journey. Now, third, fourth, and fifth generations of their descendants travel with ease across this country and world wide.

The difference in travelers was profoundly witnessed in New York's Times Square where streets have been blocked off from traffic to create a great plaza. Small tables and chairs invite visitors to sit and look at the people and the mega signs, both of which adorn the plaza. As we sat at our table, a man with his son who was in a wheel chair approached us and asked to share our table.

Conversation ensued. The man and his son were animated and excited about their first-time visit to New York. Hundreds of people, some immigrants, were at the Square. I asked the people sharing our table where they were from? Out of all the people from all over the world, they replied, St. Louis. Yep, unlike my grandparent's time it has become a small world after all!

LOCAL RADIO AND C-SPAN

This morning on KMOX Radio's "Total Information" broadcast, I listened to one of the best interviews I've heard on the controversy about Canadian Vs. USA Health Care. Doug McElvin and Debbie Monterrey interviewed Dr. Robert Evans, professor of economics, the Center of Health Policy, the University of British Columbia, Vancouver, Canada. The interviewers asked pertinent questions and stood aside as Dr. Evans responded with straight forward answers.

Which brings me to the tour I took of C-SPAN, while I was in Washington, D.C. The network was established in 1979. It offers cable viewers three different channels dedicated to coverage of the US House of Representatives, The Senate and the third is used for its own programming - book reviews, phone-ins and interviews with various news makers.

Unlike the constant stream of shrill, noisy TV pundits and talk show hosts, C-SPAN turns its cameras on events and speakers and let's the viewer draw conclusions from what is seen and heard. Something achieved also today by local KMOX whose interviewers stood aside and let me digest the answers to questions.

By way of full disclosure: the complete interview with Dr. Evans can be viewed on KMOX.com;
C-SPAN'S Managing News Editor is Richard Weinstein, my nephew.

FOOD ALONG THE EAST COAST

How food tastes, where and how it is served, and by whom, reflects a culture and often is an important part of a traveler's itinerary. On my trip to the East coast, I experienced exotic new foods as well as familiar ones.

Familiar dishes were served in private homes in Palm Beach,FL and Bethesda,MD. Greek and Italian foods were served in a quiet, upstairs restaurant and in a small, street level one in Manhattan. Seafood was eaten in a bay side restaurant overlooking the Tappan Zee Bridge. Barbecue was served on a private, screened-in porch on Fire Island. Bagels, and coffee cakes were served in a small card room of a large suburban apartment complex. Chocolate mouse completed lunch at The Water Works below Philadelphia's Art Museum. Ale was tried in a Public House in Alexandria,VA. Potage bon fam eaten on a private,outside terrace in the shadow of The Capital in Washington, D.C. concluded my trip.

But for me, what feed my soul was not the food but the company I shared it with.

WEATHER, VEHICLES, AND ANIMALS

Like the Jules Verne novel, Around the World in Eighty Days, my thirty-day trip put me on many different modes of travel. Taxis, planes, golf carts, cars, buses, subways, trains and ferries got me from one point to the other.

On my trip, I experienced all sorts of weather. From lovely,crisp days to horrendous lighting, thunder and pouring rain storms that forced a quick ending to a stay in a cottage in the Hudson Valley.

Dogs were everywhere I went. On the plane, a cute little black dog popped his head out of a bag under the seat next to me. On the streets of New York, professional dog walkers were handling 12 dogs at a time. In the home where I stayed, a small dog with a large personality entertained me by hiding things that belonged to me.

But it was a deer who really startled me early one morning as I was coming from the beach on Fire Island. It saw me but still strolled along casually as if to say, I belong here, not you.

IN ANOTHER ORBIT

I entered another orbit when I left St. Louis on July 17 for a trip to the East Coast. I went to visit friends, colleagues, family, and to see new places.
My friends are many and my family large. I was able to see a host of friends, my oldest son, my siblings, cousins, nieces and nephews as well as great nieces and nephews over a five state area.

Even though born and raised in the East, I visited places I had not seen before. Rather than encounter great cultural differences between the East and mid West where I live now, I was struck with the similarity of issues and way of life, discounting population numbers.

I touched down in St. Louis on August 12 where I was greeted by my youngest son, his wife and their two children. It was then I realized my trip provided me with a rich tapestry of experiences and placed me in a different orbit from my accustomed one of ordinary tasks, responsibilities, and the news of the world.

TRAVEL SIGHTS AND NAY SAYERS

On the eve of my eightieth year, I watched as a red glow raced across the St. Louis sky. The sun was about to rise even as a crescent moon was still high in the sky. I was on my way to catch an early morning flight to start a month long visit to the East Coast. As I watched the sun's arrival, I understood the power it has had on people, rituals and beliefs through the years.

Taking the advice of Vice President Joesph R. Biden, Jr., I donned a face mask and boarded my flight. In the seats next to me were a woman and her young son who was flying for the first time. The boy was excited and a bit frightened at the same time. He pressed his head close to the window as we passed through billowing clouds. No matter the startling scenery, he put on his IPOD and all strangeness seemed to give way. He was in his comfort zone once again.

At my layover, I was joined by a large, new car dealer from Texas. Asked how things were in his state, he said, "Just fine!" Later in the conversation, he said he might need to change his new car dealership to a used car one. The years have made me cautious about nay sayers. This gentleman seemed no exception.

WHAT MORE COULD ONE ASK?

When I first came to St. Louis, I asked a new friend to describe the political climate of the City. I was told, we are not into politics. "This a sports town!" The week-long All Stars Baseball festivities proved the point.

Weeks before the Game, banners fluttered on light poles. Signs were seen on store fronts in commercial areas and residential neighborhoods. Empty lots and streets in the City were cleaned. Mini-arches were placed across town. As Game time neared, the excitement was palatable. Baseball greats of the past would attend along with the best players from teams across the country.

The night of the game, a huge flag was spread across the field by service men and women. Missouri-born Sheryl Crow sang the Star Spangled Banner. The stands were filled to capacity. Thousands roared their approval when President Obama tossed the ball and it reached the catcher. Even Mother Nature behaved. The evening was balmy. A creepy stealth bomber flew over as the game got underway.

What more could one ask? Well, for starters,that the feeling of civic pride felt by so many hang around for a while and that cheaper tickets were available.

JUDGE SOTOMAYOR AND KIPLING

The Senate Hearing on the Nomination of Judge Sonia Sotomayor to the Supreme Court and the cross examination by Senator Lindsey Graham reminded me of something Rudyard Kipling said.

"Take my word for it, the silliest woman can manage a clever man, but it takes a very clever woman to manage a fool."

Whatever one's political views, where ever one stands on social issues, today Judge Sotomayor proved her mettle against the Senator from South Carolina as she managed his interruptions and slurs with her quiet, smart, patient demeanor, exposing the Senator's real worth .

WOMAN IN A RED BATHING SUIT

Today, it is hot and humid. As I walked up my street, a young woman came toward me. She was wearing a bright red, two piece with a halter top, short trunks and no other clothing. She walked with a limp and I noticed that she was handicapped.

Her left side was severely disabled, whether from a stroke or a childhood malady. Yet, she walked with assurance and smiled as we passed each other. Even with the disability, she carried herself as if to say she would not suffer the oppressive heat inside but would get to a pool instead.

She was alone. I don't know what it took for this person to get herself up, out and into a swim suit. But, her determination to enjoy life was apparent. It must have helped her overcome more than a few physical and emotional obstacles without fear of what others might think. It also put me in the mood for a swim.

BAGEL PREVENTS DISASTER

Einstein Bagels at the corner of Euclid and Laclede Streets is a well known coffee house here in St. Louis's Central West End. It attracts locals with dogs and children. Beside good coffee, it has sidewalk tables protected by a wrought iron fence from the heavily trafficked street. There is just enough room for tables, pedestrians and other dogs to get by. So far, there have been no accidents.

One of my favorite dogs is Winston, a handsome, black Dane weighing 140 pounds. Though less than a year old he is especially well behaved toward strangers, children and other dogs. I have never heard him bark.

This morning, his master's table overflowed with other people leaving him little room to move about. His tail extended dangerously through the fence and into the street. His owner seemed not to notice the peril Winston was in, nor that he wanted a bagel too until he barked and growled. She brought him a bagel. Disaster was averted and all was peaceful again.

PRESIDENT OBAMA'S HAMBURGER

Several weeks ago, President Barack Obama, took a reporter and TV crew to a fast food restaurant for lunch. The menu was take out hamburgers and fries.

The restaurant patrons and employees alike were startled and thrilled by the President's appearance in so public a place. As I watched, the President stood in line, gave his order, and shook hands with other customers as if this was his favorite spot too. It was a wonderful moment watching our President hob nabbing with ordinary people.

It reminded me of those times when Presidents felt obliged to stay as close to public life as possible even though with personal danger. Presidents like Franklin Delano Roosevelt who rode slowly in an open convertible in streets across the country, or Harry S. Truman who took early morning walks in our nation's capitol, or Dwight D. Eisenhower who rode and walked down the streets of New York in the midst of a ticker tape parade, and of course when danger finally caught up with Ronald Reagan and John F. Kennedy the impact was enormous. We wonder, is it worth it?

Even though these excursions do take my breath away, I feel good about this small demonstration of our open society. Of course, this is to say nothing of the reprimand President Obama might have received from his wife or daughters for succumbing to a hamburger.

JULY 4TH & JUNETEENTH

July 4Th, 1776, is celebrated here and across the country as Independence Day.

Last week, the headline in The St. Louis American, the weekly African American newspaper, called for a resurgence of a holiday called Juneteenth. The holiday commemorates June 19, 1865, when the Union Army arrived in Texas to enforce the Emancipation Proclamation, signed nearly a hundred years after the Revolutionary War, to end slavery.

Both dates celebrate men, women and children who fought to gain representation in a government they could call their own. They came from farms and towns, some with the heavy yoke of slavery, some defying brothers to join an army which would prevail through squalid conditions, underground railroads, and economic barons of the time.

The importance of one holiday need not obliterate the other. We can celebrate our national heritage and remember that justice came late for many, even as we acknowledge injustice still exists for many more.

SMILING AT LIFE

I've often wondered what is it that makes people respond to small happenings with a smile, while others seem oblivious to so much around them. The sweet scent of newly mowed grass, lovers holding hands in the street, watching a Robin stand perfectly still while cocking its head listening intently for its meal, any one of these things can provoke a smile for me.

Recently, I passed three burly, serious minded workers clearing a lawn. We were not in an open field, or on a farm but in the middle of an urban area. Suddenly, all of us spotted a rabbit hopping across the front of the house. "One of the workers yelled out, "Now where did you come from?" We all started to laugh and smile as the rabbit scampered away.

Did we react this way because of a sense of relief from our mundane lives or were we simply startled? Whatever the reason, I know the workers and I began our day feeling good about the world because of a stray rabbit on a city street.

SERENDIPITY AND ADVENTURE

The word serendipity conjures images of unexpected delights. I had such a day recently when I picked up my grandson from his summer class.

Before I picked up Hoben, there was time for me to stop at a restaurant for coffee. I was waiting in a long line when my grandson popped up in front of me. He was on a class break with his teacher. He asked me to join them at their table. Before they left, I was invited to visit the class to see his lovely glass paintings. Then we spent the afternoon doing unpredictable things.

One thing Hoben wanted to do was to get rid of a bundle of clothes he had outgrown. We took them to a store that buys, trades, and sells used merchandise. The store was fascinating and reminded me of old trading posts. The operation is run by hip, young women. As they went through each item, they used different colored clothespins to price each one. There was a two hour wait so we went to lunch and came back. We learned that the clothes were worth less than expected and most were returned to him which he gave to Goodwill.

After a few more stops and much conversation, we wound up at Barnes and Noble. When I dropped Hoben off at his house, I realized that I had experienced a day that began serendipitously and was filled with adventure and the fun of being with my grandson.

MUSSOLINI AND MARK TWAIN

I discovered that "Il Duce", Benito Mussolini, the Italian Premiere was an admirer of Mark Twain. I learned about it in front of a bust of Mark Twain in the Central Library of St. Louis.

In 1935 Mussolini expressed his admiration for the American writer in a letter to The International Mark Twain Society along with a $200 donation toward the erection of a Mark Twain Memorial. The Society named Mussolini Honorary Chairman for his generosity during the year-long nation-wide celebration of the 100th anniversary of the birth of Mark Twain.

According to the New York Times, Mussolini said, "Twain has been and remains one of my preferred authors." It seems odd to me that one of the notorious dictators of World War II should so admire the author from Missouri who chronicled human nature and the open, simple American life so well.

"THE PARAGON OF ANIMALS?"

In two weeks in February, The Human Society of Missouri rescued 301 small and large animals, along with an underweight Bengal Tiger from two substandard breeding facilities. The animals had been kept outside in small, stacked cages in freezing weather. I found out about this when my grandchildren took me for a visit to the Society's St. Louis headquarters where they found their dog Max more than five years ago. They are devoted to him and he to them.

The Center here is the largest in Missouri and may be one of the largest in the country. In addition to small animals, it rescues and cares for larger animals who are neglected at its Long Meadow Ranch. The Society is funded by private donations and fee for service programs and workshops. The facility is light and airy. The animals appealing and shy.

As we walked up and down the aisles I read the description of what each animal endured. I wondered, is man really, as Shakespeare declared in Hamlet, "the paragon of animals.?"

PRIVATE POLICE PATROLS?

Sunday's St. Louis Dispatch revealed that a privately owned company was being reimbursed by residents and businesses in certain sections of the City for extra security and street patrols. The Paper called it a "shadow police force."

This reminded me of the trouble we get into when we contract out public services. Yet, it is an easier way to deal with problems of crime and property damage than to raise taxes. As a result we allow a lot of "shadow police" operations thrive in war and in peace.

We contracted out to the Blackwater Company in Iraq. We look the other way when the Boy Scout's Explorers program teaches 33,000 young people how to deal with enemy agents. We allow elected officials to tell us to carry concealed weapons into public places to protect us from random killings rather than appropriate funds for programs and personnel.

"Shadow" anything is deceptive, costs dearly and keeps us from dealing with reality.

CHESS A PEACEFUL SOLUTION?

Even though I lose in a simple game of checkers more times than not, I was intrigued by the week long series of events which were held to kick off the United States 2009 Chess Championship games held in the St. Louis Chess Club and Scholarship Center in May.

The Center was established in 2007. It displays an assortment of handsome boards and chess pieces along with books about the game and a members lounge on two floors. At one event, the book, "Marcel Duchamp: The Art of Chess" was introduced by its author Francis Naumann before a crowd of Chess enthusiasts and artists. In the book, Duchamp gives up the art world for chess so that he would be mentally challenged and not be considered a "dumb artist."

The game itself has been in existence since 1500 and is often described as a way to conduct a peaceful war without killings. Though I don't play chess, I like the idea of substituting elegant boards and pieces for lives to settle disputes between nations and ideology.

EIGHTY EIGHT AND STILL KILLING?

I thought I heard wrong when I heard that the shooter at the National Memorial Museum of the Holocaust was 88 years old. Surely he must have been years younger. It is difficult to accept that one could live so long with such hatred.

And then I thought of all people of all ages in this country and around the world who live lives demented by hatred.

I wondered, is hatred fueled by ignorance? Ideology? Is it some sort of illness each one of us is susceptible to if we allow an other's life to be devalued?

Eighty-eight years of hating. Individuals killing at random. Generations, nations killing for territory and power. Each of us need to ask why?

RELIGIOUS PAGEANTRY

Tomorrow, Robert Carlson will be installed as the ninth Arch Bishop of St. Louis. Tonight, he was serenaded by a choral society in the Cathedral of St. Louis amid the color of priestly vestments and the red and black capes of his white plumed honor guards with swords drawn.

The hope here is that he will be a unifying force between the more than half a million Catholics he leads, and other representatives of different faiths in the community. As I watched the elegant pageantry, I thought of the awesome responsibility now before this man.

I remembered too the poetic words in the Torah's ancient Psalms of David read this morning in class. I wondered, as so often I do, at the ability of religious teaching to inspire us with words and pageantry as well as to incite us with bigotry.

"MARTHA MITCHELL CALLING"

When I first moved to St. Louis, I took a season's subscription to The Gaslight Theater, a small 100 seat theater which is home to the Actors Studio. The productions have been good and the sets quite creative for the small stage.

A few weeks ago,I went to see "Martha Mitchell Calling" by Jodi Rothe. The One Act play and the actress Glynis Bell,were wonderful. They captured the lady who so unnerved Washington in the 70s that Richard Nixon said, "If it wasn't for Martha, there'd be no Watergate."

The play's program carried an excerpt from Helen Thomas', "Front Row At the White House, My Life and Times." In it Thomas says about Martha,"She should be remembered as the woman who tried to blow the whistle on what was going on, but sometimes her stories seemed so out there, it was close to impossible to get anyone to listen. However I listened and I wrote and I'll let history decide."

At the end of Scene 3. the lights go down and come back up. A funeral wreath stands in the center of the stage. It says "Martha was right!" Then the house goes dark.

"ALL CHILDREN LEARN"

Recently, I noticed a woman with a child coming slowly down the steps to the Post Office. She held the toddler's hand and patiently recited the number of each step as they descended.

The scene brought to mind a small book called "All Children Learn" which was written years ago for parents with children who were developmentally delayed. In it, the author with whom I worked, depicted ordinary activities that parents could use to help make children, all children aware of language and the world in which we live.

In today's high tech world sometimes we forget the value of communicating with children through adult attention and encouragement. Counting steps as we go up and down, calling out the name of each food as we unpack groceries, reciting the color of flowers during a walk with a child, activities when identified out loud will help encourage and answer a child's natural sense of inquisitiveness.

In the midst of a busy day, one woman coming down a set of steps, helped the child beside her learn about our world in a meaningful way.

JUDGE SONIA SOTOMAYOR

From time to time, I spot a peregrine falcon perched on the steeple of the Cathedral across from my apartment. Her unexpected presence always surprises and delights me. I watch as neither pigeon nor sparrow can detract her from her perch.

I noticed the falcon again today as I read about the life of Judge Sonia Sotomayer, President Obama's nominee for appointment to the Unites States Supreme Court. Like the falcon I observe, how inspirational that Judge Sotomayor's life and career could bring her to this country's highest perch of justice.

KRUGMAN'S WAKE UP CALL!

Paul Krugman, economist and columnist, has been giving America and this administration one well reasoned wake up call after another. His recent New York Times Column "State of Paralysis" on May 25 was no exception. Except, this time it seems to me he was taking hold of our new administration's lapels and giving them and us a good shaking.

We are living and traveling through a time without benefit of a good road map. Krugman is asking us to understand that we may need to take risks to avoid tearing the very fabric of who we are as a nation.

Whether one agrees with Krugman or not, when a man of his stature speaks of being "rattled" by "the California precedent" comparing it to the
"national level," it is way past time for this administration to hear
Krugman's wake up call!

MEMORIAL DAY 2009

Missouri celebrates Memorial Day the same as other states across the land. Cities, towns and neighborhood communities stage parades, festivals, fundraising events, and all kinds of races.

Something called the Gypsy Caravan, billed as the largest antique and flea market in the Midwest is staged by the St. Louis Symphony Volunteer Association annually on Memorial Day. The Western Military Academy in Alton, MO, claims its parade dates back to 1868. In St. Louis'Forest and Tower Grove Parks, public and private family-style picnics are held. In the midst of all the hoopla, sober speeches are made remembering the brave men and women who gave their lives in war reminding all of us why we celebrate the day.

I enjoy this day, the parades, the color, the events, noisy and quiet. Even so, as we honor the memory of so many who gave their lives in battle, I wonder will nations ever stop making war with each other?

JURY DUTY

I had lived in St. Louis a little over a year when I received a notice to serve on a Petite Jury in the Twenty-Second Judicial Circuit Court of Missouri.

After preliminary questions from the attorneys and instructions from the Judge 12 of us were selected to serve as jurors. The State was charging the defendant before us with 12 First Degree assault and criminal actions and murder.

The people who made up the Jury were a cross section of citizens. One woman was a security guard for a Casino. She wore her gun belt, without gun or ammunition, and trooper boots. Two social workers, a teacher, a retired bank custodian, a no-nonsense, nursing home administrator, a young woman working for a medical office, a man involved in research, two elderly women, a man who was a producer at a local television station who wondered why he had been chosen when usually he is dismissed, a hip cosmetic sales woman who as the door was closed behind us commented, "let's get this over today," and me.

A full box of the defendant's family, friends and steady court observers were there through out the testimony. We heard from one state's witness and others who were familiar with the neighborhood where the crimes took place and described the lack of neighbors to get involved or call the police when crimes were committed. Our deliberations were serious and went four days. We found the defendant guilty on all counts except murder. That charge is still pending and the defendant is in jail.

Jury Trials are sobering. They bring into light not only the charges against a defendant, but how effective we are or are not as a community in ensuring that justice is meted out even in those neighborhoods where the scars of injustice still remain raw.

GRADUATION TIME!

St. Louis serves as a mecca for universities, colleges and technical schools. In addition to campus dorms, students live all around us and their excitement about graduation is felt by the whole city.

The streets overflow with traffic bringing families from out of town to mark each student's accomplishment after long years of study. Sometimes the Cathedral opposite me is used for a school's graduation services.

No matter the inclement weather, young women with flimsy, billowing dresses join young men, jacket less, trying desperately to keep ties from flapping in the wind on the Church's plaza. Afterward, with gowns flapping and mortarboards held tight, graduates seek out families and fiends as flash bulbs pop.

Today on my morning walk I met a woman carrying a gown who is a faculty member for one of these institutions. Asked how the semester was she said it had its ups and downs but we got through it. As I pass cars being loaded with boxes for the trip home, I have a sense of renewed hope for this country's future.

Then I pull out the newspaper and read that the U.S. Senate has passed a Bill that will allow concealed weapons to be brought into public places. Because of the season, and the young graduates all about me, my hope is still strong.

Maybe, just maybe, from all those in the Class of '09 will come a greater understanding of why this ill conceived law should be turned back.

FORGET FISHING! MISSOURI NOODLES!

Sometime ago, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch ran an article on noodling,
a form of hand fishing here in Missouri. What caught my attention was
not only the name of the sport, but that it had become a question of
"rights" between noodlers, the State's Department of Conservation and
non noodling voters.

Noodling is used to catch cat fish. It requires no hook, bait or fishing line, only fingers. The hand is placed in water, fingers wiggle and voila, the fish is attracted and caught. According to the state's department of conservation, the practice was depleting catfish. To get the bloggers under control, and hoping to restock cat fish, the state tried issuing licenses for noodling in 2005.

Noodlers claimed the licensing procedures were not about concern for the fish but because of economic pressure from conventional cat fishing interest. And besides this was depriving noodlers of their constitutional right.

As a result, in March, the Missouri House Agribusiness Committee approved House Joint Resolution 20, to allow voters to amend this State's Constitution to provide a two month season for "hand fishing," noodling or whatever name it is called, there are about a dozen different names depending on the area where it is practiced.

The article I read did not explain how all this came about. I bet it took a grass roots lobbying effort by noodlers to have HJR20 passed. Now we will all be able to vote to have an Amendment to the State Constitution that would include provisions for Noodling. Would that efforts for education or health care would be as effective.

OH YE, OF LITTLE FAITH!

I don't enjoy gambling, but I do enjoy horse racing. Even without a bet, I love the beauty, anticipation and excitement of the race, the horses and the crowds. I tend to be interested in long shots and have faith one will finally come in.

Even with no money on "Mine That Bird," knowing nothing about the jockey or trainer, I picked number 8 to win. He was the long shot and he carried my magic number. When he did win, I was as exited as if I had put money on him.

True, when I saw him come out of the gate, not the handsomest of steeds, I lost a little confidence in my magic number 8, a number so designated because it appears throughout the statistics of the day of my birth.

When the race was over and the stunned crowd began to leave, I wondered about the people who actually put money on this long shot. Was it because of superstition, intuition, a hunch, or like me, because of a name or number that held some significance?

I also wondered about all the others who bet on the "sure thing" and now regretted that they did not have enough "faith" to go with a long shot. Especially one with the magic number 8.

Concealed Weapons A Cop Out!

Ten days ago, 105 members of Missouri's House of Representatives passed a Bill to allow licensed gun owners to carry concealed weapons onto public college campuses. It is a cop out. The Bill relieves elected officials of the hard job of making informed decisions to ensure public safety.

To advocate that each of us, whether student, teacher, shopper, or anyone, carry a concealed weapon into a public place for our own protection is to abandon all sense of responsible governance for our safety.

To have this Bill passed at a time which marked the anniversary of the wholesale murder of people in educational campuses and buildings is outrageous and indicates that elected officials are copping out of dealing with one of the most vexing issues of our time. This behavior and the Bill it produced should be unacceptable to all of us here and elsewhere in the country.

CORRECTION

People in St. Louis do not call Robins "Roby," only writers with poor typing skills do. My apology.

SPRING FOR SURE?

Winter's refusal to give up did not deter the return of Robins and some plants from blooming early even when the weather was inhospitable. But today on my morning walk, I saw my first real indication that Spring may have won the climate battle.

This time, the Roby I spotted had his beak filled with straw and small sticks as he went about collecting debris to build his nest. It reminded me that a nest, like a home, is built in good weather. Spring may finally be here!

Truman and Us

A few weeks ago, I read that Matthew Algeo was about to publish a book about how easy it was for President Harry S. Truman and his wife to travel as ordinary citizens on America's roads after he had left office. The article sparked a memory of my own.

Sometime after Truman left office, my family and I were traveling by car on our way from Philadelphia to New York. With us was my sister and her year old daughter. As we passed another car, we recognized Clifton Daniel and his wife Margaret Truman in the front seat. In the back seat were Harry and Bess Truman.

No entourage accompanied them. They were just another car on the road. We were thrilled to see them. We waved. My sister held up her daughter to show them her baby. The former President of the United States laughed and waved back. We were so excited, we talked about the encounter all the way into New York and for years afterward.

Antique Row

Antique Row is located in the Southeast section of St. Louis. The area is an historic one. It was settled in the 1700s by German immigrants and is now attempting a revival of the neighborhood.

It differs from other antique areas I have visited because its historic markers commemorate ordinary citizens. Visitors learn about the family who lived in the small houses above the business they conducted.

Small houses standing next to each other display the lovely architecture of the time and are still lived in year around. Shops hold lots of vintage merchandise worth seeing, art galleries and small coffee houses welcome visitors.

No great event seems to have occurred in Antique Row. It was just refreshing to walk about in a neighborhood proud of its heritage and sharing its history with visitors.

A Library Treasure

St. Louis' Central Public Library can hold its own when compared with other public libraries around the country. I've always been intrigued with libraries. When I first arrived here, I visited several small ones, some in my neighborhood, others further out in the burbs.

Yesterday I was looking for the book "An Aquinas Reader" for a class assignment. I was told it would be found in the City's Central Library. Of the many places suggested to me to be sure and see, no one mentioned the Central Library. So I was quite surprised and delighted with the treasure I found.

The City's first Public Library was in a room in The Board of Education. Now, there are 16 Branches around St. Louis. The Central Library is located in an imposing building built in 1907 by the famous American architect Cass Gilbert who designed New York City's Woolworth Building, The U.S. Supreme Court Building in Washington, D.C. and a long list of other institutions, churches and hospitals.

The Library houses 3 million, 7 hundred thousand items on three floors with children's and popular libraries and a micro form room in the basement. The third floor is used for exhibit space along with some administrative offices.

The main floor's reading room is in the Great Hall where deliveries were once made and now has a balcony lined with books. Columns and floors are of marble. Walls and ceilings are done in beaux arts decor. Individual rooms carry individual themes. European, Monastery and one was inspired by Michelangelo's Laurentian Library. Gilded plaster is shaped into swags, flowers, cornucopias, Fleur-Di-Li's and Durham stained glass are seen throughout.

I did not have time to browse the Stacks. I will when I go again and take the tour.

Quick Fix?

Sometimes when communities, like people, are in economic trouble, they tend to forget their historic or cultural heritage and look for a quick fix rather than look to natural advantages.

I saw this happen in Baltimore when in the 60s a plan to make the city a destination for visitors and businesses was stymied. It wasn't until Baltimore looked to its unusually beautiful inner harbor, rehabilitated it and its downtown that Baltimore became a destination city.

In Philadelphia, around the same time, the City's Mayor moved into a home in a center city neighborhood that was almost abandoned except for a few historic buildings. The area was rehabilitated and became known as it was in the 1800s as Society Hill. Now, Independence Hall is joined by the National Constitution Center with people from around the world awe struck by the City's heritage where people make their homes.

Atlantic City, suffering from sever economic and corruption problems, looked to gambling for the quick fix which it was until competition from casinos in other places came along. Now the City is fighting hard to replenish its once famous beaches and family-like atmosphere while trying to stave off the corruption it had wanted to fix.

Here in St. Louis, where many citizens live outside the City, a start up effort is being made to reclaim and sustain the downtown. But unless there is support by all Missourians for this effort, it could remain unfulfilled.

The continuation of the unusual and welcoming free admission to all of the City's lovely and unique museums will be lost. Its geographic beauty astride the great Mississippi River where men and women and children encamped on their way to open the West will deteriorate, as will the Court House where the history making Dred Scott trial took place. If because of these hard times, we overlook natural, historic and cultural heritage and look for the quick fix, we shall not prosper. We will have lost something not easy to replace.

PUNNING

I have several friends addicted to punning. For me, though I appreciate this ability, I have enough trouble using the tried and true construct of the English language without adding a new one.

However, if you are one of those grammatical geniuses who can fish out a pun on a moment's notice, pull up "Pun for the Ages" by Joseph Tartakovsky, a student at Fordham Law School, in The New York Times, March 28, OP-ED page. The writer says, "nothing vexes so much as a pun on a name. Yet even these can rise to wit if turned with finesse." He gives this example:

Jean Harlow the platinum-blond star of the 1930s, on being introduced to Lady Margot Asquith, mispronounced her given name to rhyme with "rot." "My dear, the 't' is silent," said Asquith "as in Harlow."

I have the feeling that Harlow did not let this "pun" get by her. I would have liked to hear her response.

A.I.G. SOMETHING MISSING?

About the time when markets here and around the world began to unravel,I began auditing the course "The History of Political Thought I: Justice, Virtue, and the Soul." The course will take us from the Greek Philosophers in the early 16 century to western political theory.

Presently we are discussing Cicero "On the Commonwealth and On the Laws." Our professor explains that it is Cicero's position that the ability to reason is a key element in determining what laws and actions will be established by a just society.

The problem I am having is with the devaluation of reason as we enter a new century, not A.I.G.'s bonuses. The value we have placed on material goods and sometimes human ability is so askew that to establish a reasonable worth of anything is damn near impossible.

Did those in the markets of housing, commerce, finance, fashion - it makes no difference - ever ask, what is the reason we do this? To produce a better made product or to simply construct another way to play the game, now you see it now you don't?

Forget A.I.G. and its bonuses. No, I would like to know what caused all of us to lose our ability to reason for so long a period of time.

Some of St. Louis' neighborhoods are graced by stately, well kept mansions, others by homes of modest means, and still other neighborhoods are filled with neglected, sometimes abandoned homes. My neighborhood holds many stately homes, but we are also bordered by homes and families that are impoverished or living in groups for disparate reasons.

As a result, I am fortunate enough to be presented with a colorful tableau of people and events whenever I go out.

My morning's walk today took me past homes of historic value and others newly built.
The sky was dull and overcast. The weather such that I still needed a winter jacket. As I spotted beds of daffodil, crocuses and ground cover begining to sprout small blue flowers, I realized that this was indeed the first day of Spring.

Robins hopped from lawn to lawn. Wild sparrows darted from branch to branch.
One home owner was sprinkling a newly seeded lawn. Two dogs lay patiently and lazily on the sidewalk awaiting their owner who had gone into a small coffee shop. Two neighbors rolled out of their group home in their wheelchairs as if to say, it's time to be out and about.

A few hours after I got back home, the wind died down. The sun cames out. Yes, in spite of the ocassional chill, Spring does seem to be on its way and all things seem possible.

More on Newspapers.

Shortly after calling attention to Clark Hoyt's remarks,"journalists see their job as reflecting the world as their reporting tells them it is" (NY Times 3-15-09), the Seattle Post-Intelligencer folded their print editions. It will be seen only on the Internet.

Then a few days later Nicholas D.Kristof wrote in his column (3-19-09)what can happen when we turn only to the Internet for news. He said "the danger is that self-selected 'news' acts as a narcotic lulling us into a self-confident stupor through which we will perceive in blacks and whites a world that typically unfolds in grays."

For me, the demise of so many newspapers bodes ill for all of us.

I'll Take Newspapers!

Clark Hoyt, eloquently spells out what a journalist's job is all about in his March 15Th New York Times column, "Bad News and More Bad News."

It was great fun to watch television during the election campaign for President described often as a "horse race" or where statistics were displayed, a "magic board." As I watched the reporting and listened to the coverage and the candidates they reminded me, for the most part, of a favorite saying of my grandmother, an imigrant, "Only in America."

But since the election, I have turned off the television. I find, with few exceptions, its theatrically staged news reports and its shallow but "authoritative" pundits often shrill and less than accurate.

I still look to my newspapers, even as their numbers grow smaller, for factual reporting as hard as the news is to read.

Euphuism and Peekaboo

No matter what we call it, which way we turn it, or which euphemism we use, we are feeling the downturn here as everywhere else. We see it in large and small ways.

A few blocks from me is one of St. Louis' oldest hardware stores. One can still buy nails by the pound there. Customers like me can make small purchases, but the bulk of the store's business is with large building and construction companies.

Last time when I was there I asked how business was? They told me their walk in trade was still good, but their building and construction business was down. They were holding their own, but had to cut employee salaries. Yet, they assured me they had been through so many ups and downs that they would get through this one too. They have been in their present location since the late 1800s.

The local newspaper carries stories of foreclosures, layoffs, and believe it or not, a ponzi scheme by a citizen of the Show Me State. My local library carries a sign telling patrons that they will no longer be able to pick up Income Tax Forms by edict of the Tax Office to conserve paper.

Even so, as I leave the library the sun shines brightly. I pass a small child being pushed in a stroller. When we pass each other, we play peekaboo. The peekaboo did the trick. It lifted my spirits and helped me remember, this too shall pass.

The Met Sans Popcorn

I know that some opera aficionados hold the Metropolitan Opera's live broadcasts in disdain. But for those of us not accorded the opportunity to attend performances in New York, it is still an exciting experience.

Donizetti's "Lucia di Lammermoor" was no less thrilling an experience for those of us attending in the St. Louis Art Museum's Auditorium where neither food nor drink distracted us from the performance a few weeks ago.

Because of the venue, yesterday I was able to introduce my granddaughter to Puccini's "Madama Butterfly." Though I am not sure how much taste for opera this may have created in her, I was excited to be able to share one of my favorites with her even as "Un bel di" once again released a torrent of tears on my part.

I understand the concern that much of the beauty of the music and singing can be lost when hearing the opera in a local movie house. But it is worth it to those of us who will leave the popcorn behind and for the moment be enraptured with the music though far from New York.

Morgenthau & Shabbat

When I read that Robert Morris Morgenthau said he would retire after 35 years as The United States Attorney for New York County, it brought back a host of memories. I did not know Morgenthau but I remember his name as a part of my childhood.

On Friday nights, it was customary for my parents to welcome family and friends to their table. Mother always prepared a large meal and my father would sing a traditional toast,"Kiddush," for the sabbath, "Shabbat."

These Friday night dinners always included traditional stories, sometimes philosophical discussion about the state of the world, and always politics. Some of this table talk was of little or no interest to the children, but I do remember the names of people being talked about. Eleanor and Franklin Roosevelt, Harry Truman,
Nixon, Dewey, Wallace, and Morgenthau was one such name who seemed to be revered, though I had no idea why or who this man was.

It was not until much later that I came to understand why this man created so much discussion around my parents table. And why now, in these troubled times, it is good to know that here is a public servant who serves with great integrity, the kind my parents spoke about at their Friday night table.

Tonight's Speech

We shall remember where we were as we listened to President Obama's speech tonight and the inspiration it offered.

NEW SPECULATIVE COMMODITY?

Here in Missouri, cows have become a speculative commodity and they are being stolen from their bucolic fields. Criminals are not just found on Wall Street or robbing banks or people, now they are becoming cattle rustlers. This is a serious with mega bucks involved.

Yet, I can't help thinking all this would make a great Marx Brothers movie. I picture Groucho showing his accomplices which end of the cow to grab hold of while Harpo and his horn and flapping coat tails try to redirect a stampede headed his way.

Then, in all seriousness I go back to the theft. I wonder who buys these cows and for what purpose? Would a smart Wall Street Broker push such a commodity? Whatever
the answer, we better catch the culprit soon. Until we do, I'll stick to a meatless diet.

SEPARATE CLASSES?

The St. Louis Post-Dispatch recently reported that some public grammar schools are introducing same sex classes. Though studies of how effective this practice is are not yet in, the belief is that girls and boys learn differently, and that both do better in same sex classes. The front-page story was a long one and carried photos of children at work in a local school.

One photo showed a group of second-grade girls excitedly cheering on another girl playing a computer game. In another photo a first grader was squatting on his knees atop a stool, bent over with pencil in hand working diligently even while in a pretzel-like position. The last photo showed another first grader sitting quietly in a rocking chair, intently reading her book.

Having raised two sons of my own, the kid in the pretzel-like position put a smile on my face and convinced me the idea may have merit.

INTERNET II?

Bill Gates made the tools to use the Internet. Bernie Madoff used the Internet to become a world-class criminal. My grandchildren, with the guidance of their parents and teachers, glide around the Internet as if on roller blades.

I know that when I hit "send," somehow my message reaches people around the world quickly. I still don't understand how it works. Be that as it may, I figured I would just go ahead and start blogging on this Internet.

Now I learn that the masters of technology are trying to develop Internet II. I have even less of an idea about what that means.

I do know that I feel like Alice in Wonderland when she tries to make sense of the Mad Hatter's conversation. The conversation made little sense to Alice but the Hatter thought he knew what he was talking about. Maybe he did. And maybe Internet II makes sense but don't ask me to explain either.

CHARLES DICKENS

Yesterday, February 13, the NY Times carried a front page story by Ian Urbina and Sean D. Hamill. The story could have been written by Charles Dickens.

Two Northeastern Pennsylvania Judges have worked a scheme to convict and sentence adolescents to private detention centers. The children, who had no former offenses, had been found guilty of small infractions of the law.

Since 2003, the Judges were paid $2.6 million for referring 5000 children to these detention centers. Last week the Judges pleaded guilty in the Federal District of Scranton to wire fraud and income tax fraud.

Would that these child abusers and scoundrels are sentenced to a Dickensian jail.

After Andrew's Class

I have been attending my son Andrew Rehfeld's class on "The History of Political Thought: Justice and the Soul." It is both informative and provocative. I am especially impressed, intrigued and privileged to hear him as well as the comments by his students.

Starting my blg

Hi everyone,

I'm new to the blogging game. Andrew (my son) is helping set me up. I have good news: my cat scan at 18 months is still cancer free!

I just came from Andrew's class and he was brilliant!

Beverly