Cape Girardeau History and Photos

October 1, 2013

My Silver Dollars

For as long as I can remember, Dad carried some silver dollars in his pocket they had been there so long they were nothing but slick disks. I don’t know why he carried them, but I always liked to think it was to remind him of my two brothers and me.

When Son Matt came along on September 27, 1975, I went right out and got a silver dollar from the bank and started carrying it.

When Son Adam came along on July 7, 1980, I got a second dollar. I needed a way to tell the coins apart, so I snatched up the photo department’s engraver and scrawled Adam Lynn 7/7/80 on his.

I got the date wrong

In a burst of enthusiasm, I scratched Matthew Louis on his coin. Unfortunately, I was so caught up in my new son’s birth day that I inscribed Matt’s date as 9/27/80 instead of 1975. My only option was to scratch the 80 out and put 75 beneath it.

What brought this to mind was Daughter-in-Law Sarah asked if I had an engraver. We traded emails where I said that Adam still had it from the birth of Grandson Elliot, but she was welcome to use it.

Adam responded by writing, “I’ve still not engraved Elliot’s dollar. I’m too scared to mess it up.”

In 50 years it’ll be slick

I told him the story of Matt’s coin and said that even if he makes a mistake, it adds a certain character to the token. “Besides, in 50 years or so, it’ll be slick anyway.”

I don’t know why Dad carried his silver dollars, but I know that every time I rattle the change in my pocket, I think of my two sons. I hope they do the same with their boys.

October 1, 2013November 17, 2021

The Truth about Locker Rooms

Since I didn’t know exactly where this photo was taken, I was going to toss it aside. Then I got a closer look and I saw what was on some of the shelves. (You can click on the photo to make it larger, but if you do, I suggested deactivating the Smell Emitting Diode on your computer first.)

Those rolled-up towels contained fermenting gym clothes. I wonder if this could have been taken near the Tiger Den on a Friday, traditionally the day when you were supposed to take your PE clothes home to be washed.

Of course, many of those rolls got stuffed into lockers and recycled again and again. That’s probably why the school got new lockers when it was converted to a junior high school.

As you may have gathered from earlier posts, I wasn’t exactly a fan of PE.

Guy shower experiences

When I saw those rolls, it brought back all kind of olfactory twitches. Now, despite teen movies, I was never privy to how girl locker rooms worked, but we guys were herded into gang showers where earsplitting hoots and hollers echoed off the tile walls like a bad prison movie. At least once during this session (which I tried to complete as quickly as possible), there would be something that sounded like a space shuttle lifting off, followed by a sulfurous cloud of methane gas that rolled off the tiles in a green cloud, prompting another Neanderthal to try to best the earlier contribution.

How I envisioned the girls’ locker room

I envisioned my female counterparts being ushered into individual cleansing facilities where there would be soft music playing, the water would come out at the perfect temperature, towels wouldn’t be needed because each compartment would be equipped with air-drying fans and there would be a gentle spritzing of the perfume of the girl’s choice on the way out. Attendants, probably freshmen, would take care of nail and hair maintenance and see that clothing was restored with nary a muss.

The physical education portion of the hour would last about 8 minutes, with the remainder of the time being taken up with the ablution process just described. I’m not sure if the freshmen were actually required to peel the grapes for upper classwomen or if they did it of their own volition.

That must have been the tradeoff for having to wear those ugly uniforms.

I can’t wait to hear how close my vision came to reality. Girls?

September 29, 2013

1963 Charleston Debate Trophy

Looks like the Central High School Debate Club had a good run at the Charleston tournament in 1963.

From left to right, Calvin Chapman, advisor, projecting his JFK persona; Fred Wilferth, principal and co-owner of the Jackson skating rink; John Mueller, my freshman debate partner; Bill Wilson, the other candidate who was beaten like a drum by Jim Feldmier in our run for Student Body President; Rick Meinz and Mike “Dink” Daniels. You can see a tiny, tiny me taking the photo reflected in the window inside the door.

“Meinz would rat me out”

I can remember being at a state student congress in Jeff City and passing a note to Dink that a couple gals from Sikeston or Charleston or somewhere wanted us to go to dinner. “I’d love to,” he responded, “but Meinz would rat me out to Bunny [his girlfriend].”

You can tell by the mischievous expression on Rick’s face that he would have done it in a heartbeat, too.

September 29, 2013

Matt’s Birthday Century

Son Matt called Friday to ask if I wanted to do a Birthday Century with him on Saturday.

A “century” is a 100-mile bike ride in a day’s time. I’ve done half a dozen of them, but not in recent history, so I had the good sense to pass. He said his direction was going to be based on which way the wind was blowing. If it was coming from the east, he’d head to Ft. Myers, on Florida’s west coast. If from the south, his destination would be Daytona Beach to the north. As it turned out, Saturday’s winds were light and from the east-northeast, so he headed to Miami. To make the ride more interesting, he was going to do the 100 miles, then have someone pick him up. That way he wouldn’t see the same road twice.

When I did a status check with Sarah, she said she had come down with a cold and would take me up on my offer to pick him up.

He ended up on Key Biscayne, off Miami Beach, with 102.05 miles under his saddle. When I started to take his picture, he said, “Make sure the cyclometer is sharp. It’s OK if I’m fuzzy.”

Wow, that’s gray in his beard

I hadn’t noticed that his beard had picked up some gray recently. Let’s do the math: 2013 – 1975 = 38. That’s getting up there. I guess it’s about time for the gray.

On the way back, I asked him to shoot the Miami skyline when we went over the MacArthur Causeway. He remembers it well, because that’s the bridge he had to ride over four times when he, Son Adam and Wife Lila did the family triathlon in 2010. (Some of the pictures are pretty, so it’s worth following the link.)

Matt said this was the first century he’s done where he felt like he still had another 20 or so miles left in his legs. I offered to let him show me, but he opted to hop in the car.

Frank Stark ride

Frank Stark was an airline pilot who was forced to retire after quadruple bypass surgery and two heart attacks. He took up cycling as rehab and worked up to the point that he would “ride his age” every year on his birthday. One of his friends said he had a nurse riding with him in the early stages of his recovery.

Before long, the Boca Raton Bike Club started looking forward to the birthday rides. When Frank died of heart failure on a bike ride just a month short of his 71st birthday, the members established the Frank Stark Celebration Ride. I shot this one in 2009. Unfortunately, Frank’s birthday was in July, not the best month to be doing distance riding in Florida.