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."