We launched a johnboat from the conservation access point and motored upstream along Big Muddy, upwind, toward a sprawling sand bar a mile away. Our most experienced hand assured us that the river, though deserving of respect and awe, is … Read More
Five minutes in an old veteran’s life…
He was going the wrong way down Broadway. As I approached him head-on, I could see he was holding a can of Budweiser. But that wasn’t the issue. It appeared he didn’t care if this trip ended in suicide. He … Read More
Crewless from Seattle–Columbia Channels Olympic Royalty
You don’t see this every day, not on a Midwest neighborhood side street. In one of Columbia’s stately old neighborhoods, a sweet spot tucked behind Garth and Rollins streets, populated by eighty-year-old trees and the professors who planted them, the … Read More
Raising Money for Highways
State highway departments are running out of money. One potential source of funding borrows from a local government trick that’s been paying big dividends for decades: Naming rights for sports stadiums and bowl games. You know, the Edward D. Jones … Read More
Ignored the Signs. Went In.
Johnnie’s Bar has been serving whiskey in downtown St. James since the Irish laborers built the railroad through here. Even from the outside, Johnnie’s looks foreboding, with its big neon Stag Beer sign over a doorway into cold, smoky darkness. … Read More
And the first shall be last…
Every day Missourians roll across America’s first stimulus project from the recession recovery act, the new Osage River bridge on Highway 17 near Tuscumbia. Projects like this create a unique problem for me. The dang highway department keeps making new … Read More
Pay No Attention to the High Wire Act…
Only a few miles north, along Highway 13, I found The Shrine of Our Lady of the Two Ugly Utility Poles Standing Side by Side in Our Front Yard. That’s my name for it anyway. It’s the world’s best attempt … Read More
Goodness, Gracious, Great Bales o’ Fire!
We came upon the biggest black field I’d ever seen. Musta been 100 acres. I drove through miles and miles of the blackened fields of Harrison County, burned off after the harvest, to reinvigorate the soil. It’s a fiery, smoky … Read More
Bothwellian
Detouring to the top of a high cliff, I stopped to see an old friend. On a clear day, she’s hard to miss, built on the edge of this bluff and sticking out of a forest canopy like a Bavarian … Read More