Photos around Cape Archives

November 21, 2015

Ft. Jefferson Cross at the Confluence

Curator Jessica and I were headed to the Discovery Park of America so she could steal some ideas for the new museum the Athens County Historical Society was moving into. We decided to avoid the Interstate, which put us going through Cairo and Wickliffe.

About half a mile south of Wickliffe on U.S. 51, we spotted a 90-foot cross off the right side of the road. At first, I thought we might have made a wrong turn and had hit the Bald Knob Cross in Alto Pass, Ill. (Click on the photos to make them larger.)

First cross was at Ancient Buried City

No, it wasn’t the Bald Knob Cross. It was the Fort Jefferson Cross at the Confluence. This project started in 1937, when a small cross was erected in Wickliffe at what was then called the Ancient Buried City. It was replaced with a 35-foot cross in 1951.

After almost 15 years of planning and fundraising, this 90-foot cross was erected on a two-acre site leased from the city of Wickliffe for 100 years. By the time the project was completed, the costs had nearly doubled, to about $300,000.

The goal was to create an object large enough that it could be seen from the tri-state area of Kentucky, Illinois and Missouri, and be close to the confluence of the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers.

Impressive at night

The cross was eye-catching in the afternoon light, but I figured it would be even more impressive if it was lit at night. It was. Admission is free. There is plenty of parking.

November 13, 2015March 1, 2022

The Night Belongs to Me

I like roaming the streets at night. Maybe part of it is that I don’t like to get up early. Even most of my bicycle riding was done as the sun was going down and later. The streets were quieter. People weren’t in as much of a hurry. It was fun cruising through neighborhoods chatting with people walking their dogs, pushing baby strollers or rolling their garbage cans to the curb.

If you saw a flickering light in a darkened room, you knew the residents were watching TV; if the light was steady, they were on their computer. If their windows were open, you could smell their dinners cooking, and maybe even guess what part of the country or world they were from by those fragrances.

After I dropped off my late-night meeting or sports photos at The Missourian (so I wouldn’t have to get up early in the morning to do it), I’d roam up and down the streets and alleys listening to police calls, talking to the night watchmen or just enjoying a city asleep. The cops all knew my car, so they never stopped me to see if I was up to something.

View from Fort A

The view from what had once been Civil War Fort A at the end of Bellvue is arguably the prettiest view of Cape Girardeau. I wish I had been there 15 minutes earlier so the barge would have shown up better in the reflections of lights on the river. Of course, had I been there 15 minutes earlier, the boat would have been below the bridge, and it wouldn’t have mattered what the light level was. As it turned out, I had to wait about five minutes for it to get where it is here.

KFVS antenna farm

Coming down the hill from Bellvue on North Lorimier from Fort A, my eye was drawn to the KFVS tower and the antenna farm behind it. I drove past, wondering if it was worth a shot. When I saw the crescent moon over the Marquette Hotel. I circled the block and was lucky enough to find a parking spot just about where I needed to shoot. (You can click on the photos to make them larger, by the way.)

A car pulled in across the street just about the time I got out of mine. The driver must have wondered what I was up to, because I could sense he was watching me. Finally, when I opened the door to get back into my van, he got out and walked across the street. I didn’t stick around to see if he went into KFVS or walked down the hill to what used to be the the N’Orleans, the brick building on the left.

The antenna on the right is a twin to the iconic one on the last hill on Highway 61 coming into Cape from Jackson.

November 12, 2015

Asian Aliens Invade

I don’t think the Asian lady beetle invasion is as bad as it was several years ago, but there were plenty of them out and about on Saturday. (Click on the photos to make them larger.)

Various extension service websites say the insects, which resemble our home-grown lady bugs, were imported as early as 1916 to eat aphids and other soft-bodied insects. It’s only been in the last 30 years that they have established themselves pretty much all over the country.

Wife Lila bought 1,500 native lady bugs to control pests in her raised vegetable gardens. Her brightly colored bugs weren’t nearly so prolific as the foreigners (although you can see them giving it a go to increase their numbers in an R-rated video on Wife Lila’s gardening blog).

They’re looking for somewhere to spend the winter

In their native Japan, the bugs spend the winter en masse in rocky outcrops on the sides of mountains. In the U.S., though, they are attracted to light-colored buildings and human houses, where they enter through cracks, crevices and small openings.

The University of Florida reported that 15-20 thousand of the beetles will invade a single house. A large infestation can be heard moving around inside the walls as they look for a cool place to spend the winter. In Florida, they may not be happy with the warm temperatures inside the walls, so they’ll find an opening that will take them into the air-conditioned interior.

Do they bite or sting?

Most sites say that their only defense is to emit a yellowish, acrid secretion that can stain surfaces. A Kentucky entomologist writes that when there is a large infestation, some of the insects may land on (and, trust me, UNDER) clothing. Lady beetles, being insect-eaters, have chewing mouthparts, and can bite or “pinch.” The bite, he says, feels like a pinprick and is seldom serious.

If they get into your house in large quantities, one way to get rid of them is to chase them down with a vacuum cleaner. It is suggested to create a “trap” inside the cleaner’s hose to “bag” them instead of collecting inside the machine, where their acrid secretion can give your vacuum bad breath for a long time.

November 10, 2015August 31, 2021

Watered-Down Anheuser-Busch

I’m a disgrace to my German heritage. I have to confess I went years not liking the taste of beer. Then, one hot summer, Brother-in-Law John Perry came down to Florida to help us re-roof the house.

Well, to be more accurate, he did most of the work when he wasn’t answering dumb questions from The Boys and me. (Sample: “These nails have the heads on the wrong end.” “Just put them back in your pouch and use them on the other side of the roof.”)

At the end of the day, I took a shine to the Bud Light I was quaffing with John. Nowadays, I usually have a bottle with dinner at least three nights a week.

My friends make fun of me for drinking Bud Light, but I counter by saying, “I’m not really crazy about beer, and Bud Light is the closest thing you can get to Not Beer that still has a little of the taste of beer.

In 1993, the folks at Anheuser-Busch came up with something that might be a little light even for my taste. They switched over one of their lines in Ft. Collins, Colorado, to produce cans of drinking water for folks fighting the Flood of 1993.

Use by 10/15/1993

Wife Lila and Foodie Road Warriorette Jan are always giving me grief about how long I keep food past the theoretical expiration date. I wonder if they’d object if I cracked the can and took a swig of 1993 water? The can’s full and shows no signs of leakage.

Canned water outlasted Dutchtown

Ronald Kucera Jr. of Kucera Demolition reduces a Dutchtown house to landfill material. Eleven of 15 houses eligible for a buyout have been marked for demolition after residents got tired of more and more frequent “100-year” floods.

Not-so-fond memories

Brother Mark and I have some not-so-fond memories of the Flood of 1993, when we were surveying the height of the water inside one of the buildings Dad used for his construction company. We were barely able to get the canoe under the top of the door.