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Some of the sadness of ending a trip, and I started finding my way back into living at home.

I sold my shares in L3Harris to pay bills. This is some of the cash I parked in the market. I was not expecting a 60% return, nor did I expect Trump to start a war, or that I would hold stock in the main supplier of rocket engines for missiles at the same time. I am an accidental war profiteer! This will cover some bills as I wait for Social Security payments, which will start in June. The SS payments do not cover all my expenses, but they will help.

I connected with my health care providers, who have now worked out something, and I can now use the usual place for my CT Scan (not driving into Washington State!), checking that the colon cancer is still gone. I called, and I am off to Legacy Good Samaritan next Thursday morning. Excellent. I also looked at the risks of the non-cancerous tumor in my neck and decided to put that off until it becomes a problem. The risk profile versus the gain seemed out of proportion. I will instead monitor it. I am down to getting some blood work done and a colonoscopy to schedule.

The skin rash is slowly returning, suggesting that Shyrizi is working. I have not returned to the creams yet. It is an interesting process. I do feel like a “test bunny.”

I reheated the remaining coffee and cut some ham and cheese (from the fromage counter at The Market of Choice). I sliced up some bread I bought (but it was too soft for my taste), and with a banana, that was my breakfast. It reminds me of European and Icelandic breakfasts. I ate that while I wrote the blog.

I also updated my transactions in Quicken, read (mostly deleted) email, and doom scrolled the NYT. My IRA investments could not decide whether there was a crisis with Iran and stayed static. I also read that the fired US Navy Secretary lost his job by not meeting the deadlines for the President’s Battleship design. It reminds me of the story of the Kaiser sending in his design for a new cruiser for the German Imperial Navy: “Very pretty, but it won’t float,” was the navy’s reaction. Hmmm. Interesting to watch for us amateur battleship historians.

The blog was finished mid-morning. I was writing slowly, and I had no plans. I got a postcard out to Mom Wild as promised, St. Louis Arc postcards so far.

I reheated the pizza (not that good) for lunch. It seemed better reheated. I watched more Star Trek Academy while I ate. I then collected my Greek Bible and my NRSV Bible from college (and carried it to the site of ancient Megiddo once, and read the passage about the death of Josiah at the gate of Megiddo, standing in the remains of the gate). I headed to Insomnia Coffee nearby and started on my homework for my Sunday School Class.

I spent two hours working on class notes on teaching the beginning of The Book of Revelation. I started to recall my Greek and Biblical Criticism (this is about the Greek words and their variations found in the early witnesses to the original text, not about being critical of the New Testament from a religious point of view). I assembled a lesson with notes and text to read. I usually go with the NRSV (New Revised Standard Version) rather than the NIV (New International Version) for the New Testament, as I find that the sentences in the NRSV often flow closer to the underlying Greek. NIV rewrites the text for clarity, but I believe they have then mixed in the translator’s political and religious views into the translation. But I understand that the NIV works well for those with weaker reading or language skills. It is more a matter of taste, and I suspect (with my pencil/pen corrections in the NRSV written in my copy), I will never be happy with either version.

It is slow going as I relearn some Greek, but the Internet is very helpful, and soon I can find details I would otherwise have to search for in books. I also learned that my 3rd Edition Greek New Testament has been replaced by the 5th Edition. After some thinking, I ordered a 5th Edition (the 6th is coming out in September). I also have a book that explains choices made in the official Greek version when there are conflicts in sources, and that too is being updated, but I think mine will be good enough (there are only two new sources and about 100 changes in the texts in the 6th Edition from mine, and often it is just wording on why it is still the same).

After hours of that, including a gluten-free coffee cake (lovely—I don’t usually go gluten-free, but it looked so good) and coffee, and using my new AirPods until they ran out of power, I headed back to the house. I defrosted a pork chop, found Trader Joe’s Four Cheese Scalloped Potatoes (not recommended), and chopped and microwaved fresh carrots with butter and some salt (I use unsalted butter). I fried the pork chop with some Tuscan-style spices. Dinner was good. I ate it while I continued watching Star Trek Academy and enjoyed another episode (no spoilers).

At 7ish, Corwin called. He got paid for his new limo driving job and wanted to celebrate. I would go for a drink and dessert. We headed around 8ish to the Golden Valley Brewery (GVB) and Corwin, using his gift card for Christmas, got a steak and an excellent dinner. I had an Old Fashioned and shared a cheesecake with Corwin. It was a nice dinner and chat.

We returned to the house in Air VW the Gray, he headed out, and soon I was headed to bed after reading for a while. I soon nodded off, trying to read a new book (I had forgotten about, found on the bookcase, unread). I turned off the light, woke once to prove hydration, and woke again with sunrise around 6.

Thanks for reading!

Some of these blog posts are just about me living my life and doing the usual mundane things you need to do to live in a house in 2026. This is one of those.

I woke early, jetlagged, and could not get back to sleep. I started at 6ish and watched the sunrise. Well, it was more the gray getting brighter, since yesterday was a typical spring day in the Pacific Northwest. It did not rain, but the sun made no appearance except as a halo in the clouds here and there.

I was tired and made a whole pot of coffee, knowing I would need a few cups and then could use it in the late afternoon to avoid a nap. Not good to nap with jetlag!  I also reheated it for Friday morning (while I am writing this). Breakfast was a protein bar and yogurt. I started the laundry and the blog post.

I tried to go slow with the blog as yesterday’s (Tuesday’s) was full of typos, as Grammarly and the back button seemed to make a hash of my thinking. I recalled the travel day and some of the interesting people and events. I was disappointed that the scale read 230 pounds, thinking all the walking might have helped my weight. But all that BBQ, booze, and good food seemed to have balanced the equation, maybe a bit too much. It was fun!

I also read my email and read the news while sipping my dark coffee, liberal coffee, and once again, the bitter flavor, the news, my email, and comments on Facebook from the right reminded me how far we liberals have to go to establish Justice wtih Compassion for all. And while God promises in the Book of Revelation to wipe away every tear (I am teaching the book in Sunday School in May), there will be an ocean of tears until then. I tire of the lies, killings, and acting and hear, again in the same book, the cries of the saints, “How long!” Sorry if that is too religious for you, dear reader, but the book is on my mind.

I finished the blog, got some of the laundry done, and more started. I dressed and all of that. I decided I want to find the Cosmic Monkey Comic Store in Portland, get the second comic that I enjoyed, and finish the story. I also wanted to get out.

I took Air VW the Gray to Portland with about 50% charge and took US 5 into Portland, a longer but prettier trip. I made a few mistakes, but soon found parking and walked to the store. I found the comic, but no other comic appealed to me; there are lots of superhero ones. It is a very nice store, clean and well-organized. I am used to used bookstores with piles of books and graying magazines everywhere.

Next, I parked on the street in Hollywood in Portland and walked over to the Wet Spot, the local aquarium store. I had not been there in years, and they have dropped saltwater from their offering. They have specialized in freshwater fish, many from Africa, and I believe most are now raised in tanks rather than captured from the wild. Instead of heating most of the tanks, the room was heated to the high 70s. My glasses steamed up. I discovered that my interest in aquariums is mostly to look at them rather than have one, but some goldfish tempted me.

I tried Rio’s Ribs for lunch, and after $32, I had a lot of good-but-not-great pulled pork, collard greens, and some fried okra (over salted to my taste, but I suspect good to most). I sat at a bench and ate it off paper and plastic. Not a great dining experience for the Bucks! The Laughing Planet was next door, and I should have picked that. I like their food. I also checked, and brisket is only available on weekends, and they don’t have beef ribs. Hmmm. Hard to recommend, but it was not bad, but not as good as St. Louis tourist places or Slow’s in Detroit (the best so far), by far.

I read my comic, and the second story was not as interesting as the first. The ending was disappointing. I was striking out today. Next, I stopped at the elk in Portland. During the protest during the Trump One, it was taken down as a safety issue (the elk statue is not safe to climb and is naturally unbalanced with the rack on its head). It is back, some sandstone upgraded to granite, and the park (and courthouse) all look great. The road no longer goes both ways around it. All traffic now passes the rear (no chance of hitting the head or bronze rack). I drove by it and was excited to see it again.

Note: It has a fountain, and when the drain gets blocked, it overflows. This got the less-than-flattering name of the “Pissing Elk” statue for years. The proportions are also a bit strange, and until it was missing, nobody really loved it. Now it is the “Elk” statue and was missed (six years to put it back).

I returned home and pushed through the laundry. I put on Star Trek Academy and enjoyed the next two episodes. I had stopped at the 185th Veggie stand and loaded up. I also stopped at The Market of Choice and got some toilet paper (I was down to my last few rolls), meat, a reduced-price ham (past Easter), and some expensive cheese (I would make a ham-and-cheese plate for my breakfast on Friday).

(You can punch out their logo and wear it.)

I continued doing laundry and heated a frozen pizza that disappointed me (Not sure what went wrong), which I had with a salad. Mom Wild called. She is lonely (I saw her last week, but she has forgotten that), and I tried to calm her. I had stopped writing postcards when she was recovering from a fall and moved to another facility for a while, but I promised to return to that now that she was back (I wrote one on Friday).

I read a new murder mystery on my Kindle, and soon it was late. A mundane day, and I did feel sad that my trip was over, and I am not yet ready to start my six weeks of things here at the house in Oregon. This includes medical stuff that has been bouncing around in weird insurance things. Next trip is 6 June 2026 to California  — driving again.

Thanks for reading.

 

I slept on and off all night, as is usual for a travel day. I finally rose about sunrise, started to pack, and began the blog. Check-out time was at 11, and my car was due at the airport at the same time, but it is only 40 minutes to the St Louis Airport. I had put out my clothing and steamed them in the bathroom to remove the wrinkles while I made coffee using the strange device that required me to push the button many times to get a cup.

I put away the blog for now, then showered and all that, dressed, and finished packing. I took the laptop with me and headed to the hotel, Good Press, for breakfast. I had scrambled eggs, potatoes, crispy bacon, and toast. This time, better fare. There was a conference at the hotel, and there soon was a line. I sat at a larger table, using just a corner, while another person used the other corner. I had not sat in that area before and discovered that the ceiling was a kaleidoscopic work of color, with black and red as the dominant hues, with many melted or flowing structures. I thought it was not for folks with hangovers (I was fine having only one drink the night before).

With breakfast done and approaching just about 10, I returned to my room to gather my stuff. There was a knock, and the staff reminded me to check out. I tried not to be annoyed, but I suspect some folks need that little push, and soon I was in the lobby with my bags and checked out. The place was busy with the conference, and the dress standard was high today (I was in a dress shirt and a vest). I got my car, the white Buick I had spent too much money on, but I was unsure if I would be driving on this trip. But the locals agreed you need a car to see the mounds, and later learned that there is a reconstructed French Fort and village in the same area. Next time!

Which brings me to, “What do you think?” Well, downtown is empty, sad, and, while not unsafe, not that comfortable. There are many buildings that are relics and falling apart. Do the arc and the river, and leave it. Forest Park, the associated museums, and the connected neighborhoods, Central West End, were happy, filled with things to do, and seemed alive. The medical schools and universities are there. There is an Indigo Hotel in that area. I would use it next time. Public transit works, and I felt safe when using it. The endless stairs and uneven sidewalks (even new ones) suggest that the city does not get it when it comes to folks who use walkers or canes. But I saw lots of folks in powered chairs, and so maybe the world is changing, and that is less of an issue. I saw that the curbs have now been cut away from the corners, allowing such conveyances to be safe to cross streets.

I would like to visit again in the fall. I am thinking I need a trip to the south sometime. Maybe St Louis, Montgomery, Columbus (Georgia), and New Orleans. But there is a trip to Brazil (still a maybe) and July with Deborah and friends in Michigan.

I took the car back to the airport and remembered that I had to gas it up. I then drove a large circle in St. Louis because the number of gas stations and other helpful places is limited in the area I was in. It is the Rust Belt in its final, failing form — no services, not even a 7-Eleven. Finally found a gas station using Nav and driving a few miles, added just a gallon and a half, and then drove again in a strange circle, touring the ruins (with a few bright spots of hope and renewal). I then found my way, using Nav, to the highway and drove thirty minutes to the general location of the rental car return. The signs stopped, and I found myself driving through strip mall-lined roads, and the Nav was getting quite confused. But Budget (I looked up who I was renting from this time before heading there), and the other car places had large signs, and soon I found where I needed to be. It was a strange trip with strange shifting roads. Note to travelers: St. Louis rental car return is f**ked up beyond recognition.|

I found Delta, and my bag was on its way soon. Security was a bit strange. There was one agent, and the Pre-Check purchase was getting two people from the general line. The TSA guy looked unhappy with the arrangement. I am not a fan of corporate welfare and the special treatment of the Pre-Check folks, which did not make me safer or make my line go faster, seemed like a corporate gimmick to sell a product I did not think we should have in security lines: freebies. I was through security with only one delay of waiting for Pre-Check. My carry-on was passed, and my suspenders checked. The TSA did comment on how nice my hat was. I thanked him for the compliment and for his service. I always thank the TSA folks.

I had just under four hours to spend, and I wrote the blog with the laptop on my knees. Grammarly and I were not working well together, and I found many typos after I published it. It seemed to change things outside of just spelling. I must have selected ‘Confirm’ too often. Time seemed to disappear today as I wrote and read.

I met a nice older woman who was my waiter at Budweiser Brewhouse, which was across from my gate. She talked about her experiences with her family and how we are both trying to make it go. She has five kids. I shared with Deborah about my trips and how retirement has been good. It was not very busy, and it was nice to just chat. I ordered a Bud ($9 at the airport) and a BBQ pork sandwich that was quite good (I ate it open-faced). I always eat when I can, as you never know when something will go wrong on a trip (the “Tornado Shelter” sign on the Men’s Room doorway being an example). I also thought I should have at least one Bud while in St. Louis. It was nice and went well with the sandwich and fries (There was an amazing $9 up-charge for a side salad — WTF, I stayed with the fries). I returned to the High Fantasy book using my iPhone as a Kindle reader: The Lies of Locke Lamora (Gentleman Bastards, Book 1). I am finding it darker than I like, but still enjoyed it and read it all through today’s travels. I finished it just as I hit Beaverton on the Max.

My flight from St. Louis was the usual, with the seat’s digital screen displaying my name. I logged in and continued with my previous movies. Love Delta things like this.

I finished the second Wicked movie and cried. I returned to my reading after that. I tried another movie, but it had sex scenes and strange violence, and I decided that would not work for me on a plane. The folks who sat next to me ignored me and seemed unfriendly.

The last hour of the flight, the plane seemed more like a tennis game, and we were the ball, not the racket. I put on my hat (Indiana Jones style) and turned up the music in my ear (only one works), closed my eyes with my hat over my face, and found the plane often bounced with the music. I ignored it all.

The plane landed ten minutes early, and I was just behind Comfort, deplaned with speed, and soon was rushing my usual walk from somewhere on B to the last f**king gate on A6. I connect to this flight often. My usual plane trip at Salt Lake City Airport lasts less than forty minutes; I walked down the escalators and quickly walked the 0.7 mile. I also upgraded to Comfort. Free booze!

My rings on my watch were ecstatic (though I did miss the standing goal; I sat most of the day). I was early, and the middle seat was empty. Others were pulled from Comfort to First. The nearly two-hour flight was comfortable, and I got ginger ale to go wtih some bourbon. I read that this time the plane ride was smooth (until we started to land, when the river updraft and mountains made a mess of the air).

I found the new exit doors (yes, they have changed PDX again) and beat my bag to baggage claim, but it soon arrived. I rolled to the Max and spent $2.80 to pass through Portland to Beaverton in about an hour. Cheap and often faster than the traffic. There was a person screaming on the Max for a few stops. She left the train, apparently disgusted with the world and the lack of support from her fellow Max riders. I just read.

Corwin picked me up in my car at the Max station and drove me home. It was excellent to be home. Corwin and I then head out, me driving (and slightly confused where the buttons and shifters were as I had been driving various other cars the previous week). We ended up at Zen Sushi in the nearby strip mall. The other place we tried was closed (and looked like it would remain that way). It was close to closing, and the track was nearly empty. We ordered three rolls, and Corwin hit the track a few times. Our waiter suggested the roll named after the restaurant, and it was excellent. Full of raw fish, tea, and soup, I returned home, said good night to Corwin, and soon was in bed, leaving the laundry to Thursday. I soon slept.

Thanks for reading.

Not everything got done on Tuesday, but enough that I was tired and my feet hurt. My rings on my Apple Watch said I walked 6.5 miles for about 14,400 steps, including 5 sets of stairs climbed. The walk back to the hotel in the hot afternoon sun and sore feet was certainly enough.

I did return to the Idol Wolf bar for dinner despite the problems yesterday, as the staff had changed, and Chase was there. I saw she was attentive to all customers, and no one was ignored. I had planned dinner in my room from a local place, but then saw Chase and decided to try it again.

Also, my AMEX Gold was missing. I had left it at the bar when I was upset by witnessing a young black woman being ignored. I was able to retrieve it; the bar had held it for me.

I had an Old Fashioned and talked to Sandra, who was here for a conference (I later learned that the person to my left was putting on the conference). I decided on the lamb for dinner (expensive) and then waited over 30 minutes for it (having switched to coffee). My dinner was cold, and the rice was poorly cooked. The bartender agreed to try again, and it was sent back. Twenty minutes later, a perfect dinner appeared, and it was the best lamb I have ever tasted. Wow!

Chase suggested the cheesecake, and it was wonderful too. The bill was high, but it was a great end to my trip, and I was satisfied as I watched her treat everyone well as a customer. Excellent.

I returned to my room, packed a bit, and then did the Church Council Zoom meeting from my hotel room. That meeting went well and finished in an hour. I was happy to learn that the church had received a positive response to some mailings I was involved with and that 1/3 of the roof loan was now paid off.

After that I put on my PJs, packed some more, and read. I soon slept, but woke, as often happens on the night before traveling, often.

Before this, starting in the morning, I rose after the sunrise and wrote the blog in the hotel room. I decided to try somewhere else for breakfast, and the White Knight was nearby. It is a rundown place, but the staff was laughing, and it was clearly a local place that served the people of color in the area. I, obviously a newcomer, was welcomed to a table and treated well. Later, I saw a table was marked reserved, set with plates and water, and then an older man with a cane and his wife, likely a preacher from what I could tell, were treated with honor and as friends. My food was good, a bit better than what I got at the hotel, and about half the price. I enjoyed the laughter, smiles, and the special treatment for the honored guests.

At the White Knight, the window had been smashed, and a bit of plywood was now in place. The front door was heavy and new, obviously replaced. The place, while not dirty, had areas with hanging electricals that had not been powered for years and certainly not cleaned of late. A USA flag was in the window, as was ‘God Bless America’ on the window (what was left) with another USA flag. The food was fresh and hot. The coffee was plentiful and strong. It is a former White Castle and is now the local dive.

From there, I walked to the Union Station, trying to find the Metro. I managed to walk into the hotel and walk on the wrong side. Reversing, I found my way to the Metro. I was tempted to call for an Uber as my day was wasting, but I kept at it until I spotted the Metro sign. I bought a $5 All-Day pass and discovered that a person just let me in because they have not yet switched to a cardless system. She did watch me pay.

Stairs are a thing here in St Louis, and I walked down to the stop (there is an elevator, I learned later). I boarded the train, which was spotless, and the folks were ignoring each other. Some talking to someone on the phone the whole time. After five stops, I reached Forest Park. It was now a mile walk to the Art Museum, and it was getting warm already.

There is a bus, but I decided I could walk it. It was a long walk and some of it uphill. It was a breezy, sunny day and perfect for a long walk. The river and pond hosted turtles on logs, some alone, others in groups.

When I finally reached the Art Museum, I was happy to have done the walk. The museum is free, but the Rome Art Show was $20. It was a fantastic show, and I was sorry that there was no book to match it, as the art and history were worthy of a BBC narrative. I could just hear Mary Beard walking through and explaining everything (but the text on the walls did well).

The show covers the period of Roman Art and History just before the date believed to be the writing of the Revelation of John. How perfect, as I am teaching that next month! I walked through the show and enjoyed the sculpture and fragments of frescoes loaned from various Italian Museums. And while most, if not all, of the artifacts would be back-room stuff that seldom went on display there, it was a treasure here and a good fit for the narrow subject. Most of it was the 1st Century AD. Again, perfect for me, and also mention of trade and the harbor work to increase trade with Rome. Almost premade for my class!

I enjoyed the walk, the Roman retelling of Greek Myths, and the focus on the Trojans, whom the poet Virgil connects to the founder of Rome. I also like the identified statues of emperors that were recut for the next guy. Nero to Caligula and one with a new hairstyle to match the emperor’s new ‘do.

I found the cafe on level one and paid the usual 125% for food at a museum, but the chicken Waldorf salad sandwich (just half on a croissant) with chips was great. Also, the Diet Coke was wonderful; I suspect I was still dehydrated. Next, I found their armor and weapon collection. Just a few pieces, but with a 1400s helmet that was called out as the best in the collection. One piece of metal was hammered into a perfect, curved helm that would deflect hits with those lines.

Next, the French Impressionist and yet-another-lily-pad-pond by Monet and other excellent works on the main floor (the arms were in a far corner of the basement level and down a flight of wooden stairs — I walked the length of the museum three times). A very nice collection. I could feel myself relax and smile as I walked among paintings I had not seen before.

The park and the St. Louis Art Museum (with a giant bronze statue of St. Louis on a horse, charging off into the park, holding his sword as a cross) were great. I was feeling like I had found the soul of the city here. But I was not walking again for another hour. I ordered an Uber and connected next to the house back, Saint, and headed to the US Chess Hall of Fame. The St. Louis Chess Club is the center of US competitive chess, and the US Chess Federation, the Hall of Fame, and the museum are located together at Maryland and Euclid Streets in St. Louis.

It was a short, cheap trip, and soon I was at the museum, only to learn that it opens again in two weeks, but I was welcome to walk around and peek. I was disappointed, but I still walked around the area and looked at their chess set of the week. I bought some pencils (the purchase was wrapped in chessboard tissue paper). Next, I crossed the street, and the SLC took me for a tour of their building and facilities. I have only seen it in pictures. Here was where the Grand Masters taught and played. New Orleans may have more Grand Masters, but clearly, SLC was here to teach and continue the sport. I was happy to get a bookmark and some pencils to give away.

Across the street is the Kingside Grill and Bar. It is full of chess master photos and game posters. I had an Old Fashioned as that seemed the right drink. I enjoyed the drink and just hanging out at a bar and food joint that is focused on chess. I remember the same feeling when I played chess in Amsterdam; I was the only one not smoking something mind-altering.

I walked and walked to the Metro. I also somehow lost my pass and bought a new one-way pass for a few bucks. I took the light rail back to Union Station. A guy threw his bike on the train, security looked at it, shook their heads, and let it be; it was not in the way.

Next, I paid too much, $45, to enjoy the St Louis Aquarium (there was an extra charge for petting rays) and did enjoy it. I went up to one tank with someone next to it, put my hand on the edge, and she told me not to do this. I at first thought this was another pet-the-fish tank. She informed me these were the famous spitting fish (I stepped back), could jump three feet (I stepped back), and had teeth (I stepped back). She waved a wand over the fish, and one bored fish spit at it. She told me they are very smart, the smartest in the facility, she thinks, and know that they don’t get fed by spitting at the ball. I moved on.

Later, I did pet a jellyfish, and that was fun. I considered raising jellyfish once and/or volunteering at an aquarium (Linda, my sister, is already thinking, while reading this, of tiny branding irons with a stylized MRW on them, and a jellyfish round-up). But that dream faded as travel and other options arose. I enjoy seeing them at such places and never mind the price.

The sharks and other huge fish were in the Canyon tank, and I marveled at that. There were also some disconnected reef tanks that always stop me. The dome extension tank and Lion Fish were marvelous. It was like they were swimming in the hallway with you. These are now a pest fish, but still lovely, and I understand delicious (when properly cooked and thus destroying the venom).

I had been walking or standing for hours now, and my feet hurt. I had to walk five blocks to get to the hotel. They seemed long. I also got a photo of the now-closed White Knight. I learned that many food places close early and BBQ places only serve until the food they made lasts (the BBQ is made in single-day batches; get it while it lasts).

I returned to the hotel, got to my room, and rested. And then completing the circle, I head downstairs, not sure if I would use the hotel’s Idol Wolf restaurant or not.

Thanks for reading!

 

 

 

 

Ten thousand steps, seven flights of stairs, and other various workout measurements had all my circles on my watch happy with me. I prefer traveling over a gym membership; while more costly, there is no guilt about not showing up, and the view changes. I have never increased my goals, and thus, I get cheap rewards, but still, I think the five miles of walking was good.

I rose after six passing on rising in the dark and watching the sunrise over St Louis.  It is a pleasure to watch a city wake, but instead, I made coffee using the LavAzza machine, which makes tiny, polite puddles of coffee, and I must press the button multiple times to fill the small cup. This one uses capsules (provided in a pretty leather-like box), and water poured into a transparent tank. The instructions (written on the inside cover of the pretty box) are clear, but I seem to be missing something. Still, I push the button many times, and the cup finally fills.

There is a huge, tall tub that is slippery enough to kill, which contains shower stuff, and I manage (there are plenty of handholds) to wash and then shave without a likely fatal fall. I prefer cheaper arrangements.

Dressed in a T-shirt from Oregon, I head down to the coffee and breakfast restaurant, Good Press Cafe, in the hotel. The line is slow as the POS mangles a transaction, but I find a seat and have an above-average breakfast and coffee for $25. I write the blog and finish in the lobby, as the tables in the cafe are tiny. I return to my room, stash the laptop, and grab my hat and coat (it is cool in the mornings). The hotel is not near the Arc, but it is still walkable.

I walk towards the river and slightly downhill. The city is awake and busy, but still seems to be missing people, and there are housing buildings that are tall and wrecked. Graffiti and broken windows for tens of stories surprises me. Just a few blocks from the arc and the newer buildings. The homeless are on many corners. I never feel unsafe.

The parks are lovely, but there are no food carts and crowds of people working or tourists to eat their wares. Parking is expensive everywhere, and I suspect that city life is at a premium. I did see two large new modern apartment buildings, but they seemed sterile and had no balconies.

I will keep looking, but St Louis seemed empty and even sad. The crazy (insane?) joy I see in Portland, Seattle, Detroit, and New Orleans, and the love for the city, is missing so far. I will head to the other side on Tuesday via the Metro and see what I find there. My usual reaction to a city is “Can I live here? I love it here,” but that has not been the case so far. It ain’t New Orleans that is for sure.

I reach the Arc, and it is a bright, sunny, cool morning. I head underground, as that is where the museum and shuttles are located, I am told. It is a National Park, but I have a regular pass and had to pay (next year, when I get the America the Beautiful pass for those over 62, I will be free). I managed to get a pass for 11 and spent 40 minutes looking at the museum and reviewing the gift store’s contents.

There is a security check to get in, and I passed it.

The shuttle is more like an escape pod with a glass door, plastic seats, and the belief that, in the 1960s, five people fit in the shuttle. We had three, and after bending over and never standing, found a seat. The ride was claustrophobic, but for four minutes and a view of the arc’s internals, it was not bad. Recommended. It was described by one of my passengers as climbing into a dryer. There was no tumble, but the shuttle did seem to swing a few times to adjust for the angle.

The top is about the size of a double-length bus, with tiny windows and carpeted walls, allowing you to lie and look out of them. I asked the ranger if the arc sways, “When the wind is over 7 mph, yes,” and yes, you can feel it. The ranger and I discussed New Orleans, and I shared my cooking experience with him. He and his girlfriend will try it soon; he Googled it there at the top of the Arc. Glad to help. The ten minutes went by fast.

The top entrance and exit from the shuttle are via stairs, and you can see the line of arch walls leading to them. It is crowded and a bit chaotic. I heard an adult say, “If you scream the way down, there will be punishment.” The kids looked mechivious, and I suspect they found something else to do on the faster drop back (almost felt like falling).

The ranger at the top, swaying and dreaming of Cajun food, told me he loves to look out at the river. It is always changing.

I had chili, Timberline Chili (the name of the Lodge on Mt. Hood in Oregon), and terrible fries. There is no McDonald’s (“Golden Arches”), but I had to have them at the base of the arc at the Arc Café. I enjoyed the museum, found a new T-shirt, pencils, the book I wanted on the mounds (Cahokia Mounds by William Iseminger), and some stickers.

I was within 30 minutes of the paddlewheel trip, and another fee was paid. I also bought my photo from the arc and later from the paddle wheel. While not cheap, it would be less than the bar bill later. I enjoyed the tour, and the river was high. The security guy told me that the boat was parked in their parking lot (now underwater). Old Man River was charging down and deep, carrying trees and other items (food coolers were the most frequently repeated item I saw). I noticed that the paddlewheel was zigzagging to miss the larger bits.

There was a disused railroad area that was now decorated with a mural and, in places, covered with graffiti. The narrator said that folks were squatting in the building, and rumors were that they raised farm animals, including goats. Hmmm.

Note: Two-bedroom apartments near my hotel go for about $1,000-$1,200 a month.

With the arc and the river done, my phone and watch were dying. Time to head back. It was a thirty-minute walk, and I went a different way, connecting parks and monuments. Traffic was light, but I managed to walk into an empty street where someone wanted to turn into. I got honked at, and stayed on the curb. At the hotel, I found my room and napped while the phone and watch recharged.

I spoke to Deborah a few times while walking and at the hotel. We are still getting used to being separated for 49 days. I headed to the bar and had the happy hour specials for dinner and drinks. I later added a tuna toast time that was excellent.

A black young woman was standing at the bar. She was ignored. I waved a bartender over to her after a crowd of white biz types in suits, obviously spending expense-report money, showed up, got service, and even drinks, and the woman got nothing but being ignored. It was heartbreaking to me. She walked out. Apparently, here in St. Louis, a young black woman is too nervous to demand service (in Detroit, the bartender and manager would have gotten a talking-to).

My drinks and dinner turned to ash in my mouth, and I read my book and will not be back to the bar.

I went to bed early and slept, waking every couple of hours. My body just could not believe I was going to sleep tonight. I did.

Thanks for reading.