The critters of the Missouri Botanical Garden

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I visited St. Louis last month to visit family. As I always do when I visit St. Louis, I took time to enjoy the Missouri Botanical Garden on a hot, end-of-summer day that was serenely beautiful.

My mother and I always come here. It is our special place. Each time provides something new to learn and see. This visit was no exception.

Our walks always go counter-clockwise from the entrance, past the water lily reflecting ponds, to the Museum and Victorian Garden and then to the Japanese Garden. Our tour provided lovely encounters with birds, bees, and dragonflies.

The water lilies were in bloom and had a lot of visitors with six legs and wings. The dragonflies were particularly stunning. I cannot believe how nice the pictures were with my simple point and shoot Lumix.

At the large pond in the Japanese Garden, I spotted a snowy egret, clearly hunting. There are fat, lazy carp in the pond, and it may have been trying to grab one for lunch. Hopefully it was hunting a small carp, as these voracious eaters can grow nearly two feet in length with all the free food from visitors.

Oddly, a day later, I spotted another snowy egret in the great public park of St. Louis, Forest Park, on my run. I kept thinking it might have been the same one that flies between the two water ways that could feed it.

 

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The landmarks and urban landscape of South St. Louis

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During my last trip to St. Louis this month, I did not find time to do as many photo trips in the city as I had planned. Because my activities took me between south St. Louis County and University City, I limited my picture-taking to neighborhoods of South St. Louis.

St. Louis, as long as I have been alive, has been one of the most divided cities by race I have ever seen. There is a long history of redlining, federally supported programs like the Interstate Highway System, and private lending practices that have contributed to entrenched racism in how residents of this great city have been segregated.

Historically, the north side of St. Louis, north of Delmar, has been the home of the majority of African-American residents. South of Delmar and south of Forest Park, one finds a larger concentration of white residents. Neighborhoods like the traditionally Irish neighborhood of Dogtown or the Italian-American neighborhood of The Hill are two of the more famous areas in South St. Louis.

University of Iowa history professor Colin Gordon’s masterful book on the racial and economic history of St. Louis, Mapping Decline, provides an in-depth look at this history and its legacy that is now visible throughout this fallen American metropolis that I still love. (You can see his maps of these racial divisions here.)

These photos have no central theme other than highlighting noticeable landmarks, including the former St. Louis County Insane Asylum, also called the Missouri State Hospital, which housed the institutionalized mentally ill. I also found an array of small businesses, my favorite frozen custard shop in the universe called Ted Drewes, some landmark bars, and the brilliant Turtle Playground (known also as Turtle Park), which sits across Highway 40 from the St. Louis Zoo.

While taking these photos, I met a property manager and groundskeeper by the major mental health facility that sits on the highest point of land in the city. She asked me what I was doing. We had a great conversation how she constantly sees photographers coming to properties she cares for, taking pictures of decay. She said she didn’t understand why they kept coming. I laughed. I told her that I loved St. Louis and felt attached to its fate. I told her I took pictures because every building and every business had a story, about people and a community that are worth remembering. I think she appreciated learning my passion. We are now connected. That is the power of telling a story.

Forest Park in dawn’s early light

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Forest Park in St. Louis remains the crown jewel of the greater St. Louis area. A visitor will find an incredible array of amenities that are not found in most U.S. cities, or even in great cities of the world.

The park features a world-class art museum, an excellent history museum run the Missouri Historical Society, a popular public golf course, miles of trails for bikes and pedestrians, the world-class St. Louis Zoo, nature areas, festivals, lagoons, and occasionally visiting wildlife. I saw a snowy egret on one of my morning runs last weekend.

A nonprofit organization called Forest Park Forever now provides strong organizational and fiscal support to steer the park’s development and strategic planning needs. Given the fiscal challenges facing St. Louis, this approach likely will pay strong dividends for the entire metro region, which collectively benefits from having a free and accessible public park of this stature.

As a former University City resident (raised there) and longtime visitor to the St. Louis area over the decades, I cannot separate my love of the park from my concern for the metro region. The park’s current success in fulfilling its mission remains at odds with the prolonged pain of the City of St. Louis’s decline and de-urbanization. One needs to keep in mind the larger challenges facing the city, and its many residents who are struggling and whom the park serves, if you come and enjoy it any day of the year.

I took all of these pictures on a three-mile stroll along Lindell Boulevard to the Missouri HistoryMuseum, to the St. Louis Art Museum, through the wildflower savannah off Skinker Boulevard, and back to my starting point. You cannot beat a St. Louis morning walk like this in Forest Park!

September at the Oregon Coast

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September is my favorite month for visiting the Oregon Coast. The long days have not fully ended, and we often get beautiful, warm days in this often cloudy and chilly place. I consider September to be the month when I first began surfing on the coast.

I took this shot with a point and shoot camera after a memorable outing at Indian Beach, in beautiful Ecola State Park. That beach is considered a beginner’s surfing sport on the north coast. I totally blew it my first time there. In time, however, I improved.

At the overlook point where I took this picture, visitors can gaze south to Cannon Beach all the way to Oswald West State Park (also a surfing location). Enjoy your fall days, wherever you are.

Is The Grove the face of gentrification in St. Louis?

 

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St. Louis’s efforts to revitalize some declining neighborhoods can be seen in changes in an area called The Grove, along Manchester. Located in south-central St. Louis, The Grove itself is located in the official Forest Park Southeast Neighborhood. As I noted in an earlier post about renewal and decay in The Grove in April 2017, the Grove Community Improvement District was created in 2009, and has been working to restore the area.

The district has boasted how it turned around urban decay along on Manchester, seen in the rise of major anchor business establishments like the Urban Chestnut Brewery (a favorite of mine): “Known for its diverse community, The Grove is home to several LGBTQ friendly businesses, several of which lead the initial wave of investment in the area, starting with Attitudes Night Club opening in the 1980s. In recent years, community members devoted to filling one vacant storefront at a time, have revitalized the district.”

But is this change truly evidence of gentrification, as that term is understood, in the city?

Gentrification or De-Urbanization?

Todd Swanstrom, professor of Community Collaboration and Public Policy Administration at the University of Missouri – St. Louis, just published a thoughtful essay this month asking, “Is St. Louis Gentrifying?” His analysis looks at available data and concerns from local groups about reported gentrification in the struggling city. Despite fears of gentrification in the mostly African American neighborhoods of North St. Louis, he claims there is no evidence this type of change is occurring in this area: “If you go to Zillow.com, you will find that there are almost no houses for sale … and the few that are often sell for less than $50,000.”

By contrast, he looked at the data and found change resembling gentrification is occurring, in areas that I documented with photos I took in The Grove: “The Central Corridor is booming with growth in medical, biotech, and various tech start-ups. My research on neighborhood change in St. Louis documents that there are, indeed, what I call ‘gentrification-like’ processes going on. Young professionals who work in the Central Corridor are moving in to the Central Corridor and nearby neighborhoods to the south.”

The day I took these photos in April 2018, I met a long-time African-American resident and duplex owner, who lived next the units that were being remodeled and shown here — all of these shots were taken within four blocks south of Manchester. The father and homeowner said he welcomed the change, higher-end apartments, and the remodeling. It increased the value of his property and improved the quality of life in his immediate walking radius. He said he planned to hold on to his property, keeping it in his family.

This sentiment may not be shared by everyone seeing change. Swanstrom notes, “For the black community, concerns about displacement have a real basis in history. In the 1950s and 1960s, urban renewal and highway building forcibly displaced tens of thousands of African Americans. ‘Gentrification’ is a shout out by people who feel they have little control over their lives and their neighborhoods.”

Swanstrom suggests a different and more nuanced vocabulary is needed to describe change where there are rising neighborhoods, but without the massive displacement seen in red-hot cities like San Francisco and New York.

“Today, however, the big disruptive challenge facing older industrial cities like St. Louis is not gentrification but depopulation and disinvestment — not re-urbanization but de-urbanization,” he writes. “Contagious abandonment and the decline of solid working and middle-class neighborhoods are the most pressing issues facing St. Louis — not gentrification.”

[Article has been updated on Sept. 26, 2018 to correct the spelling of Professor Todd Swanstrom’s name.]

 

 

 

 

Escaping Portland’s heat for the cool waves at Seaside

 

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Portland, Oregon has recently had a terrible spell of hot weather. So I escaped to the beach last weekend. It was not my greatest day in the water, but it sure beat languishing in temperatures near 100 F. The temperatures can be at least 25 degrees cooler on the coast in the middle of the summer. I had no complaints, even on a mediocre surf day.

Leaving Alaska, My Heart Hung Low

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It has been seven years and 11 months since I boarded a ferry in Haines, Alaska, and bid farewell to the Great Land. I had spent six years there and knew I had to move on to another stage of my life, back in the Lower 48. That was a very difficult decision. Upon leaving, on the ferry, I wrote this poem. I hope you enjoy it and these photos of Haines and stunningly beautiful Lynn Canal.

Missing Alaska
(August 23, 2010)

Waves of sadness, tears of sorrow
Emotions tapped, I fear tomorrow
Leaving Alaska, heart hangs low
A land of rawness, joy, and woe
Mountains strong and beauty sweeping
Oceans teaming, rivers streaming
The bears and wolves I loved the most
Cruelly hunted, I heard their ghosts
Ketchikan, Kodiak, Kaktovik
Kotzebue, Barrow, Anchorage
Skiing trails pure perfection
Running Arctic, path to heaven
Moose abounding, daily sitings
Ravens, eagles, seagulls fighting
Running races, feet alighting
Found my stride, crashed, time abiding
Then life aquatic, laps and polo
Westchester walks, though mostly solo
Missing dearly Chugach mountains
Always lovely, next to heaven
Sharp memories that still cut deep
I’ll guard them close, forever keep

A World Cup final to remember!

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At last, the World Cup drew to a close with a brilliant final game between tournament favorite France and scrappy but talented Croatia on July 15, 2018. It was the most exciting final World Cup match I’ve ever seen, and I haven’t missed one since 1982.

Both sides attacked, though France had far less possession, and for much of the game it seemed as if Croatia was the dominant team. In the end, France broke the Croatian defense on two fast-break attacks that saw superstars Paul Pogba and the new wunderkind, 19-year-old Kylian Mbappé, each score nice goals in the second half.

The best goal of the match, beyond question, was the 1-1 equalizer by Ivan Parisec, shortly after France went up 1-0 after an own goal by Croatian star Mario Mandzukic. The Juventus player, Mandzukic, redeemed himself brilliantly sneaking in a goal due to terrible goalkeeping clearance by the French keeper Hugo Lloris that put the score at 4-2.

Putin Can Claim Victory too

The entire proceedings went oddly off-track when members of the Russian protest music group Pussy Riot invaded the pitch in the second half, causing looks of confusion by everyone. They were dragged off the field with no comment from the broadcasters, who were mostly tongue-tied.

The protest was seen by easily more than a billion people, putting a measurable chink in the tournament that Russian president Vladimir Putin organized to show the world his style of authoritarianism is a preferred alternative to democratic nations in Europe and North America. In many ways, Putin’s Russia was the real winner of the 2018 World Cup, having earned favorable press from the international media and visitors since mid-June.

The BBC noted two days before the final game, “A successful World Cup does not change the trend: in recent years democracy, human rights and freedom of speech in Russia have been under attack. An increasingly belligerent Russia annexed Crimea and has intervened militarily in eastern Ukraine. Russia stands accused of cyber attacks, of meddling in western elections and of carrying out the Novichok nerve agent attack in Salisbury.”

My Month-long Cup Indulgence Ends

Since mid-June, I have enjoyed many great games during the cup at the Toffee Club, which is where these shots were taken. They closed a block of SE 10th Street, created a beer garden for morning drinkers, put up a big screen TV, and replicated what most of Europe and other parts of the world do when the World Cup is playing.

I joined a work colleague, his French wife, and friend. Most of the fan base was leaning French. We had a blast, and the game offered plenty of reasons to celebrate both teams.

I found many of the French fans there a little too pretty and too precious. It may have been a class issue? Maybe they spent their summer holidays in France? But they likely have nothing in common with the mostly poor and scrappy French players who trace origins to Africa and who grew up in the poorer Parisian suburbs.

Personally, I missed the vitality I always have found with Brazilians, Argentines, Mexicans, and other nationalities of the Americas that I have watched cup finals with. There were no drums. There were no whistles. There was no dancing.

It’s sad to see it end, but the Women’s World Cup is only a year away. That should be great too.

Back to where it all began, in Detroit

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Last month, I visited my birth city, Detroit. I was born here and lived in the city less than a year. My family moved to Boston and later to St. Louis. Despite that short period of time, I am forever connected to the Motor City. I was, quite literally, made in Detroit.

I also was relinquished for adoption in Detroit, a topic that I explore in my new memoir on the American adoption experience. More specifically, I was born in Crittenton General Hospital, a facility that was created to serve single mothers in 1929. By the 1940s it had transformed into a maternity hospital that promoted adoption as the most suitable plan for single mothers. Like thousands of other babies born at the hospital, I was surrendered to an adoption agency, placed in foster care, and eventually adopted by my family.

Crittenton General Hospital opened in 1929 to serve the maternal health needs of mostly single women.

My birthplace was torn down in 1975. I examine the legacy of my birth place on the website for my book. The hospital location in central Detroit, a few blocks off of the John Lodge Freeway in central Detroit, is now the location of the Detroit Jobs Center and a nursing home. There is no memorial or marking indicating the building that stood on the property for decades earlier, serving literally thousands of patients, mostly mothers and infants. If a person did not know the story of the hospital and its role in promoting adoption, they would never know the history of this place.

The surrounding area today shows the economic distress that still is prevalent throughout greater Detroit. Some homes are kept tidy, while many others, as well as apartments, are showing decay.

I wrote about my feelings returning to the place where I came into this world more than five decades ago. I felt a mixture of exuberance and also sadness seeing the place on earth when I came into being.

One cannot undo one’s past. It is the foundation upon which one build’s an identity and place in the world. I am glad I have reconnected with my roots after all of these years.

 

Some of my fondest memories of summer

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This “midsommar,” or midsummer as Americans might call it, marks the 20th year since I first flew to Greenland to explore, pursue some old passions of Viking exploration and colonization of the arctic, and do some serious backcountry travel.

I succeeded on all fronts. I ended up visiting Greenland three summers in a row, in 1998, 1999, and 2000.

I made some amazing treks (Sisimiut to Kangerlussuaq, Igaliku to Qaqortoq, Brattalid/Qassiarsuk, to Narsaq) during each trip.

I made friends with local Greenlanders, who invited me into their homes and took me seal hunting and fishing.

I befriended several Danes, including two doctors, who made sure to extend hospitality to me when I visited their country.

I also participated in a celebration of the 1,000th anniversary of Leif Ericson’s arrival in southwest Greenland.

I thought about Greenland (Kalaallit Nunaat in Greenlandic) this week as we entered that magical time of 24 hours of daylight in the arctic. In 1998, I hiked all night on June 21, 1998, north of the Arctic Circle, where the sun never set and the mosquitos never slept!

Here are a few photos highlighting the magic of that place, its people, its culture, and beauty. I hope they bring you some joy as in the northern hemisphere celebrates the arrival of summer.