My first big trip out of town as a child never happened.  I was seven and my parents, brother and I were going to St. Louis for the weekend to stay with friends and go to the zoo.  But then, on Monday, October 22, JFK spoke to the nation at the height of the Cuban missile crisis, and my parents pulled the plug on the trip. 

They were afraid we would get there and not get back, since the new interstate highway system was also part of our civil defense.  We were leaving my two younger siblings with my grandmother and that worried them, too, not being able to get back to them.  Frankly I didn’t see the big deal, but the decision was made.

My girls group traveled that very highway last week to visit St. Louis, where our pal, Linda has settled, and it was a great time all the way around. Linda is St. Louis’s biggest cheerleader and she her husband, Tim, know all the best things to see and do.  And eat. 

We stayed in the Central West End, at the Chase Park Sonesta, an fine old hotel with helpful staff, a pool, and movie theatre with multiple screens attached to it.  And real popcorn, you all, real popcorn.

It charmed the socks off us, as did the neighborhoods we visited. Linda and Tim are foodies, so we had reservations at some wonderful places.  My favorite was Frazer’s, which served a mean Manhattan and the best halibut I’ve ever had.  I’m not much of a fish eater, but I could have this dish five days week.  

We moseyed back to the hotel by way of an ice cream parlor and got back to our rooms around ten, where we commenced our “grandmother shower” for our friend, Margaret.  She is expecting her first grandchild in November and I had generously offered to host it later in the fall.  We thought we could load her up with all the stuff she will need when the baby comes to visit.  Someone suggested doing it in St, Louis since we would all be there. Julie and Nancy hit the Dollar Tree for decorations,  headwear, and party favors, and I got completely let off the hook for a shower down the road. 

Plus, we surprised Margaret and that is hard t do. 

The next morning we wandered down to the lobby to meet up for cooking school, out in Chesterfield, where Chef Laura walked us through a Mediterranean salad, herbed pork tenderloin, homemade pasta with a tomato and vodka sauce.  I was irritated by all the side conversations and inattention of my fellow students, because I am a serious home chef and I was trying to take notes.  

We had to hurry back because some of us wanted to sit by the pool.  I took a nap.  I also went exploring.  I needed some aspirin and Linda suggested I check out the pharmacy in Ladue–a very nice part of town–and I found it, in a little strip mall and crammed full of the most wonderful things.  It is a pharmacy, yes, but also the purveyor of great soaps and body lotions, interesting gifts and even toys, plus an excellent small, but well curated, book section.  I bought things for me, and a couple of Christmas gifts, besides the aspirin.

Linda and Tim had us back to their home for drinks before dinner. Their home might have been in Manhattan, it was that cool.  Soaring ceilings, the walls painted rich colors, interesting artwork, and Blanton, the biggest and sweetest and best-behaved something-doodle I have ever met. We talked over each other while Tim quietly served us drinks. 

My parents and brother and I eventually make it to St. Louis. I was going to be Jane Goodall, had watched her for years with her chimpanzees, not unlike my stuffed one, Zippy, and this was going to be my life.  I would work along side her, a chimp swinging from my neck.  I couldn’t wait to get to the monkey house to see them. 

Alas, my career goals were crushed that very day.  Never had I smelled anything so awful.  And I had two toddler siblings.  I opened the door and gagged, ran as fast as I could through the monkey house,  never to think of them again. It was a sad and clarifying moment, and I only admired the great apes in the  pages of college anthropology texts after that.