about a sunny winter day in St. Louis

Try to recognize the city's constancy. Mortar, red brick; work, manufacturing, beer; centered, unswept; the seam of the nation's identity. (Blight, represented by vacant, deteriorating husks in some sections, yes; but, even there, where history has paused, one can identify with the condemned.) Remember driving down Chouteau one February morning, old red-brick buildings on your right, and how rusted-out gutters, flecked in sea green, plunged down from the rooftops to lie shedding in time's gardens of grit and debris.


Note: Also remember the colors of the changing Maples on X Street, next to the house; Broadway's beautiful industry buildings (never could figure out if people were actually working there); mothers walking kids to the school buses on Chippewa; and smelling bread while walking to the front gate on a chilly day.