Lewis & Clark Trail #1

The weather last Sunday (July 26) was perfect for exploring. Merry, Joli and I headed out of St. Louis on I-44 with no fixed destination. After driving southwest for about an hour we turned west on Route 100, passed the strip malls of Washington, MO and entered Missouri's “Rhineland.”

This stretch of the Missouri River from Washington to Hermann on the south bank and Augusta on the north bank was settled in the early 19^th century by Germans from the Rhine river valley. Here the mighty, muddy Missouri River winds through a wide bottomland. A little further back steep forested hills give the area an enclosed, comfortable feeling.

In the little town of New Haven I spotted a sign for the town's historic river front. We wound through the modest town, then down a very steep street to the lower town. The historic town consists of one long block of brick storefronts and a few houses. The area is protected by a levee. We parked in front of the little town museum.

Across the street the levee has been made into a little park with a paved walk on top with benches and historical signs. The signs informed us that New Haven was founded in 1836 as a riverboat stop called "Miller's Landing." Founder Phillip Miller operated a wood yard on the river to fuel the steamboat trade. The arrival of the Union Pacific railroad in the 1850s brought more commerce and activity to the area. In 1856 the town changed its name to New Haven. As with the other little towns of Missouri's rhineland, New Haven was settled by Germans, many of them from Borgholzhausen.

The levee park also has a small log cabin style pavilion dedicated the the memory of John Colter (c.1774 – May 7, 1812 or November 22, 1813). We learned that Colter served as a private in the Corps of Discovery. On the return trip in 1806 the expedition reached the Mandan villages in present-day North Dakota. There they encountered Forest Hancock and Joseph Dickson, two frontiersmen who were headed into the upper Missouri River country in search of furs. On August 13, 1806, Lewis and Clark permitted Colter to be honorably discharged almost two months early so that he could lead the two trappers back to the wilderness. During the winter of 1807–1808 Colter became the first known person of European descent to enter the region now known as Yellowstone National Park. He explored the Jackson Hole area and the Grand Tetons Mountain Range.

In the next few years Colter had many adventures, some of mythic proportions. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Colter Around 1810 he returned to St. Louis to recount his further explorations to William Clark who was serving as principal Indian agent of the vast area they had explored. Clark drew a map from Colter's descriptions that remained in use for the next 75 years. Colter married and returned to what is now called the New Haven area to settle at nearby Boeuf Creek only to die a few years later.

We drove the old Water Street looking for a place for lunch. Most of the storefronts are restored but abandoned. No lunch here. We continued to Hermann, the next town. We stopped at the downtown deli and custard stand for cheeseburgers. Hermann has successfully capitalized on its German heritage and on its location at one of the few highway bridges across the Missouri. We ate our lunch on sidewalk benches outside the deli feeding tasty scraps to Joli and watching the bikers who gather here in significant numbers wander the streets before roaring out of town.

We crossed the river and continued west. Here we followed the Katy Trail www.bikekatytrail.com for a bit. The Katy Trail is a very successful “rails to trails” conversion that runs along the Missouri River. After passing the little town of Rhineland we came to an area where 300 foot bluffs line the road. At Bluffton, no more than a couple of houses, we turned down a dirt road to the parking area of Grand Bluffs Conservation Area. A mile hike up, the steep trail ends at a platform on top of one of the bluffs. The view of the Missouri River valley is spectacular. Check out Merry's post from last Sunday for a look at the view. http://meredithleonard.blogspot.com/2009/07/grand-bluffs-conservation-area.html

At the viewing platform is a historic marker that shows Lewis & Clark standing at a similar spot to survey the same scene in 1804.

By the time we returned to the car it was getting late. We were hot and tired. Using the internet I had located what I thought would be a nice restaurant in St. Albans, a town we would pass on our return. As we left the secondary road, we entered a space warp. A few seconds earlier we were driving past small farms and dense woods. Suddenly we were surrounded by acre on acre of lawn and McMansions. Side streets were labeled “The Meadows,” “The Heathers,” “The Grove,” etc. Real estate signs informed us the houses were priced from “the low 700s” or in another area in “the 900s.” We passed what might have been a downtown at one time and what might have been a train station in another life. A man-made lake had a few swimmers, but the golf course was busy. We wandered around and finally found the restaurant. It was closed.

We fled back to the messy comfort of our neighborhood in St. Louis where we headed for Vin de Set, a good rooftop restaurant. As we ate we saw a guy approach our car, look at our Obama '12 bumper sticker and stop. Then he slipped something under our windshield wiper and drove away.

We were worried. The midwest is not always Obama friendly.

After dinner I pulled a business card from under the wiper blade. The mystery man is the founder of Oklahoma for Obama.

The Muny

Even though rain threatened, we set out for Forest Park this last Thursday evening to attend our first ever performance at the St. Louis Municipal Theatre, lovingly referred to as “The Muny.” We knew we could not claim to know anything about this place until we had a dose of America's oldest and largest outdoor theatre. www.muny.org/component/option,com_frontpage/Itemid,1/ Merry got the tickets, scoped out the best place to park and prepared a picnic supper. We went early so we could appreciate it all.

Forest Park is to St. Louis as Central Park is to New York City, only Forest Park is bigger. For an overview of the park and its history take a look at my very first blog from way back on 09/07/08. The Muny is set on a steep hillside close to the center of the park. The backstage and auxiliary buildings are constructed of light tan brick fronted by a grand colonnade. The theatre has an astounding 11,000 seats. Ticket prices are pretty reasonable ranging from $9 - $46 and 1500 seats at the top of the hill are free, first come, first served. When we arrived at the picnic area around 6 pm only half the picnic tables were taken but soon they all filled. A line formed for the free seats that are given out at 7 pm for the 8:15 curtain. All around the theatre people set up picnics, bought box suppers or sat down to eat at the open air pavilion serving a $19 buffet, reservations only.

The season typically consists of seven musicals, each running a week. This year the lineup is 42^nd Street, Annie, Godspell, Meet Me In St. Louis, The Music Man, Camelot, and Hairspray. We chose the 76 trombones. Each show features actors equity performers in the leads drawn from Broadway and traveling professional productions mixed with a large number of local performers and a full orchestra.

We were just finishing our picnic when a serious thunderstorm hit. Everyone calmly took cover under the colonnade, spread out their table cloths again and resumed picnicking. Thunder crashed and torrents of water ran off the roof. The rain let up in about half an hour. More and more people arrived, wiped off the picnic tables, filled the pavilion and prepared for the show. The free seats were completely taken.

We explored while we waited. In front of the Muny is a pond with an elegant pagoda on a island. A white egret with a hurt leg stalked frogs on one side of the pond. On a bridge a young man was throwing bread crumbs in the water. We walked over to find he was feeding the many turtles that live under the bridge, pond sliders and one pretty big snapper.

Finally the gates opened. The theatre quickly filled. It was not a sellout, but at least 9,000 people arrived from all sides. Most brought all the necessities: seat cushions, towels to dry the seats and rain gear. Those who were unprepared could rent seat cushions or have the friendly ushers wipe off the wet seats. The lights dimmed. The music started. Bats danced overhead seeking insects drawn to the stage lights. From the first note I knew this was a top quality show; terrific singers in all lead roles, great dancing and fabulous sets.

About an hour after the show started a second rainstorm hit. Out came a sea of umbrellas and rain ponchos. Vendors immediately appeared hawking cheap rain gear. The show continued for a few minutes until the rain really started to come down. A rain delay was called. The show would resume, we were told, in 15 minutes to half an hour. We decided to leave even though we were having a good time. It's a long show and I needed to get to work early the next morning.

To understand how the Muny managed to gain such a substantial following you have to look to its beginnings during the First World War. In 1916 the site was first used to present “As You Like It” put together by the Parks Commission and the Civic League to commemorate the 300^th anniversary of Shakespeare's death. This show turned out to be such a success that by early 1917 a decision was made to erect a permanent stage at the site. That summer the city was hosting the 13^th Annual Convention of the Advertising Clubs of the World. The opening of the new outdoor theatre would be the highlight event of the convention. Construction began April 16 funded with $5000 provided by the Convention board and $5000 from the city. In 46 days the massive stage was constructed, an orchestra pit built to hold up to 200 musicians, all the concrete was poured and dressing rooms built behind the stage. On June 5, 1917 the Muny opened with an audience of 12,000 in attendance. A full production of Verdi's “Aida” featured world famous opera stars and a local chorus of 250 plus 30 local dancers.

After three weeks of performances with about 10,000 people in attendance nightly the theatre had lost nearly $60,000. Nonetheless the city was determined to make a first rate summer theatre in the park a permanent reality. During 1918 Mayor Henry Keil spearheaded a fundraising campaign that raised the necessary money to plan another season.

By March 1919 the organizing committee announced they would present six operas the coming summer. In April, St. Louisans went to the polls to vote on the repertory. As soon as the results were tabulated, stars were engaged from New York, musicians auditioned, sets built and choruses assembled.

Ticket prices ranged from 25 cents to a top price of one dollar. 1,620 of the 9,000 seats were set aside as free, beginning a tradition that continues to this day. On June 10, 1919, the Municipal Theatre Association was formally incorporated. Six days later the curtain rose on “Robin Hood,” with a full house and Mayor Kiel himself proudly appearing in the production as King Richard.

Ninety seasons later, the Muny is still going strong.

Stone School Inn

I have a lot of dusty philosophy books in my personal library. I acquired most of them during my years in graduate school when I still imagined myself capable of plumbing the depths. I read the classics of antiquity as well as modern giants: Descartes, Hegel, Marx, Kant and Heidegger. Along the way I acquired an interest in how European thinking made its way to America. I especially like nineteenth century American philosophical writings because they contain a wealth of new ways to think about old problems. This rich philosophical vein almost completely dried up after about 1920. I soon gave up reading anything by living American philosophy professors because it had so little to do with anything that matters. At the time I cared enough about this phenomenon to make it the subject of my doctoral dissertation, The Profession of Philosophy in America (1979).

I turned my back on the academic life in 1984 when I started law school. Still I find myself drawn to the philosophy section of bookstores. Thus it is that I encountered On Bullshit by Harry G. Frankfort (Princeton Univ Press, 2005) http://press.princeton.edu/titles/7929.html.

In a nutshell, Frankfort points out that the essence of bullshit is not that it is false but that it is phony. By this he means that the bullshitter seeks to convey a certain impression of themselves without being concerned at all about whether what they say is true. The central purpose of bullshit is to create a favorable impression of the speaker rather than to say anything meaningful about the subject of the conversation. Frankfurt concludes that although bullshit can take many innocent forms, excessive indulgence in bullshit can undermine the capacity to tell the truth in a way that lying does not. Liars implicitly acknowledge that truth matters.

I recommend this elegant and amusing little piece of philosophical writing. I have applied Frankfort's insights in my work as a judge with great success. I keep a copy of the book on my desk right next to the BULLSHIT stamp Merry bought for my birthday.

Once you are alert to bullshit you see it everywhere. It is so rampant in advertising and in most political discussion that it's hard to miss. I take it so much for granted that I don't expect anything more in certain types of discourse. Still, it often takes me by surprise.

This past week I was hearing cases in Hannibal, MO. Merry, Joli & I wanted to find a new place to stay. We generally like B&Bs but we needed to find one that takes dogs. That's how we settled on the Stone School Inn. http://www.stoneschoolinn.net/ The place is situated in the country up a long steep drive. For $5.00 extra per day they provide an outside kennel for a dog. It worked out very well. The two resident dogs, Daisy, a basset/beagle mix, & Coco, a chocolate lab, were nice to Joli and hung around with us. The room was private and comfortable. We had our own screen porch that looked out on the yard and a number of active bird feeders.

I was surprised that the stone schoolhouse had been almost entirely enclosed in a modern structure. Since the original structure was too small to serve as a modern house, and probably poorly insulated, it made sense but altered the historic building significantly. Like most B&Bs this one is for sale. The owners, Richard & Di Ann Hammon, told us they want to get out of the B&B business and move nearer to their adult children.

Thursday morning Richard fulfilled his promise to tell us his well-rehearsed story of the history of the inn. I was quite surprised when he started the story by reminding us of the great New Madrid earthquake of 1811

http://earthquake.usgs.gov/regional/states/events/1811-1812.php. He segued to survivors of the quake moving far up river to the Hannibal area to settle on land acquired by the government. These survivors wanted a school, so about 1830 they build one of locally quarried stone. Richard noted the school was expanded later to add the chimney and served as a church for years. He made a big deal about a small trapdoor in the floor and claimed it led to a small space where runaway slaves were hidden. He showed us the trapdoor, now sealed. He claimed that slaves must have participated in the building because the stones and chestnut beams are so heavy. The locations of the local slave cemeteries were referenced. He regaled us with stories of visitors who returned to see the old schoolhouse where their great-great-great grandfather once served as superintendent.

My bullshit detector went off almost at once. The dates seemed totally wrong. If there was a surviving school building from before the civil war in good shape it surely would be a registered historic landmark. Terrell Dempsey, a lawyer who appears in my court, recently wrote a well regarded history of slavery in the Hannibal area (http://www.literarytraveler.com/literary_articles/terrell_dempsey_searching_for.aspx). I asked Richard if Mr. Dempsey knew of the trap door and slave history of the building. Richard claimed he did.

An hour later I saw Mr. Dempsey in court. I asked him about the Stone School. He had never heard of it. He further was amazed that any “purpose built” schoolhouse existed in the county from pre-Civil War time. He was familiar with the other educational institutions from the time, and was pretty sure the story I heard from Richard was not true. I've done some quick internet research and believe that Richard was pretty much making it all up.

Bullshit.

I just call her mommy

One of the more interesting challenges of being an ALJ for SSA is the occasional need to decide a “child's case.” Some background – Social Security includes a provision to assist families of seriously disabled children who live below the poverty line. The policy goal is to provide a small monthly payment to such families to assist with the additional costs of having a disabled child in the household. Child's benefits are part of the Supplemental Security Income [SSI] program. As with SSI for adults, the income eligibility part of the child's benefit program is administered by a different part of the agency. I just have to decide whether the child is seriously disabled.

The disability requirements are complex. I'm supposed to evaluate functioning in six “domains” (1) acquiring and using information,
(2) attending and completing tasks, (3) interacting and relating with others,
(4) moving about and manipulating objects, (5) caring for yourself, and (6) health and physical well-being. In each of these domains there are quite different factors to consider depending on the child's age. Infants and pre-school children have their own criteria; elementary and high school children have different criteria. Children can come into the system at any age and are re-evaluated periodically so it's possible I would hear an appeal of a child at any age from just after birth to age 18. When a child turns 18, and if they have not successfully joined the labor force, they are re-evaluated as an adult. I not only have to read medical records in these cases but a wide variety of school records including Individualized Education Plans (IEPs) as well as IQ and other psychological testing.

Only about 10% of the cases I hear are child cases. That means I've heard about 50 since last September. In 49 of the 50 the claim was initiated by the mother or grandmother. Only one case was initiated by a father, but unfortunately when that case was scheduled the father and child did not appear in court. No shows are quite common in all child cases. One reason is that a much smaller percentage of these cases have legal representation, thus there is no one to help prepare the case and to remind the claimant of the hearing. I never represented children in my private practice primarily because I had not studied this area of Social Security law and because the fees are relatively small. It's a lot of work for not much money. So about 2/3 of these cases have no lawyer; most of the rest are represented by Legal Aid.

I was quite daunted, therefore, when I encountered my first child case about the third week I was on the bench. That case involved a 3-year-old with sickle cell anemia. She has a twin sister with the same disorder who was granted benefits without a problem in initial application so the mom didn't understand why this child was being denied. It ended up being my job to explain that this child was just not as sick as her twin sister, not yet. Not a fun task.

Then there is the issue of how to take testimony from children. According to SSA rules, I'm supposed to ask adequate questions of the child to satisfy myself on whatever issues the case presents. How is this done? I was offered virtually no training in this area by SSA. I asked the other judges. Some never take testimony from children. Some let the lawyer do it, if they are lucky enough to have a lawyer. Most told me they just ask a few questions and observe the child's behavior in court. Nobody had much helpful to say. I decided to ask at least some questions of all children old enough to talk. If they had lawyers, I'd ask the lawyer to question the child and observe how they did it. I'd ask questions about school, pets, hobbies, going to the doctor, etc. and just see what happened. So far this has worked out well for me and I'm actually having a good deal of fun doing it.

I asked one six-year-old boy who the woman sitting next to him was and he said, “That's my mommy.”

“What's her name?” He looked puzzled. What was I asking? He looked at her. “Tell the judge my name, honey.” He looked up at me and sweetly said, “I just call her mommy.”

In another case I was questioning a ten-year-old about her need for glasses. There was nothing in the school or medical records on this, but her mother had just testified she could not see the blackboard without glasses. The girl was not wearing glasses in court. I asked her whether she always wore glasses when she went out. “Yes.” Why didn't she have them on now? “I forgot them.” Could she see me alright? “Yes.” I pointed down the front of the bench, could she read my name plate there?

She frowned and looked puzzled. “No.”

“Why not, is it blurry?“

After a second she smiled and said, “No, I can't read it 'cause you don't got no name tag.”

My hearing clerk got up and looked. Sure enough, she had forgotten to insert my name plate before court. If I had bothered to look, I would have seen it lying on the bench in front of me.

Next time I'll be more careful before inadvertently asking a child a trick question.

Buddhist Judging

I'm not a Buddhist, far from it, but I've been a fan of Buddhist writings on the practical aspects of spiritual practice ever since I encountered Zen In the Art of Archery by German philosopher Eugen Herrigel back in the sixties. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zen_in_the_Art_of_Archery

Recently Merry shared a Buddhist text that resonated with her. She observed that although the text deals with mastering the skill of meditation, it could easily apply to the process of mastering the skill of judging.

“When you see that you've acted, spoken, or thought in a skillful way conducive to happiness while causing no harm to yourself or others take joy in that fact and keep on training.”

This thought intrigued me so much that I tracked down the quote to a recent article in the journal Tricycle by Thanissaro Bhikkhu, called The Joy of Effort.

As I read the article I substituted the work "judging" for the word "meditation" just to see what happened. Here's an example of the result:

"...the key to maintaining your inspiration in the day-to-day work of judging is to approach it as play—a happy opportunity to master practical skills, to raise questions, experiment, and explore. This is precisely how the Buddha himself taught judging. Instead of formulating a cut-and-dried method, he first trained his students in the personal qualities—such as honesty and patience—needed to make trustworthy observations. Only after this training did he teach judging techniques, and even then he didn’t spell everything out. He raised questions and suggested areas for exploration in the hope that his questions would capture his students’ imagination, so they’d develop discernment and gain insights on their own."

While this may seem a bit too facile, for me it reveals one key to learning how to become a good judge. While obviously important, technical skills such as knowing the law and practice are not primary, instead skills like patience, curiosity, humility and honesty need to take precedence.

Perhaps one of the most difficult traits to learn and practice in any court is integrity. In my view, some aspects of the structure of our court systems actively discourages personal integrity in judges. I'm not referring here to explicit lies, double dealing, or graft. Our court systems and rules of professional ethics are actually quite sensitive to these types of dishonesty. When I think about integrity in this context, I'm more concerned with avoiding the loss of focus that can easily creep into the work and degrade its quality. In any job that involves a lot of repetition, it's easy to become complacent once you have obtained the basic skills of the job. What happens from a practical standpoint is that attention to the specific facts of each case can suffer from time of preparation through trial. I have about 1000 cases currently pending in my docket with more being added daily. There's a constant temptation, even incentive, to cut corners.

Monk Bhikkhu offers the following good advice on this point, "And the key to this honesty is to treat your actions as experiments. Then, if you see the results aren’t good, you’re free to change your ways."

Furthermore, in a job like judging where social status plays a major role, it's easy to forget that the status of judge is an artificial one, created by our culture for a specific end. Being chosen for this job is not a statement about the qualities, good or bad, of the person who is the judge. Nonetheless it's always tempting to confuse the role with the person. Being treated with formal deference can lead one to believe that by being granted the power to make judgements, the judge has somehow have been endowed with these special powers based on superior personal traits. This is not the case, but it's easy to get confused when being addressed as "Judge" or "Your Honor" repeatedly on a daily basis.

In the end the key to applying Buddhist teaching to practical skill is to remember to avoid getting wrapped up in the "eight worldly concerns," i.e., gain/loss, pleasure/pain, praise/blame and fame/dishonor. A skillful practitioner of any art simply focuses on the joy of doing the work and rejoices in each of the many complicated steps required by the practice. Achieving or avoiding the eight worldly concerns is totally forgotten and on a good day the result is a heightened awareness of the present moment.

I think of this heightened awareness as "being in the zone." When I achieve this state I read with greater comprehension, write more clearly, smile more and ask better questions. It's virtually impossible to tell an effective joke or give an extemporaneous speech unless I'm in the zone.

Om mani padme hum

Just a reminder, both Merry & I have put up web sites where you can see archived posts and view Merry's terrific photo essays (most recently about the new St. Louis “Citygarden”). Check them out when you have the time at: meredithleonard.blogspot.com and edpitts.blogspot.com

Black Fly Derby

We spent the past week at one of my favorite places, the Rap-Shaw Club in the Adirondacks of New York. The Club is one of a handful of surviving old-fashioned Adirondack sportsmen's camps. We became members of Rap-Shaw three years ago joining about 60 other families. The Club occupies two small islands on Stillwater Reservoir in the southwest corner of the Adirondack Park. The reservoir is almost entirely surrounded by the state-owned Forest Preserve. Except for the small settlement of Stillwater at the end of the road, there are no other buildings on the water. The 117 miles of shoreline and 45 small to tiny islands are lined with trees, trees, rocks, trees and a few beaches.

Rap-Shaw is one of the earliest private Adirondack clubs still in operation. Founded in 1896 and incorporated in 1901 the club moved to its current island home in 1942 after an earlier incarnation located further down the reservoir burned to the ground from a presumed lightening strike. The club's original stated purpose was to “afford recreation, legitimate fishing, hunting and camping, to promote the protection of fish and game, the preservation of the forests of and within the State of New York, and to assist in the observation and enforcement of the laws, rules and regulations relating thereto.” [from Otis H. Gardner, The Rapshaw Fishing and Hunting Club, 1901-1961. Syracuse, NY private printing, Jan. 1962] From its beginnings the club was composed of members from all walks of life. “At the Rapshaw Club a railroad brakeman was apt to find himself sharing a bunk with the president of his company.” [from an unidentified clipping in the collection of the Adirondack Museum, quoted in Barbara McMartin, The Privately Owned Adirondacks (2004), p. 49]

To get to Rap-Shaw you need to carefully navigate miles of backwoods dirt road, coming eventually to a parking lot with boat trailers, a ranger station, a general store and a bar/restaurant. Unless you've brought your own boat, now you have to call Jerry, the Rap-Shaw steward, to come over from the island with the club pontoon boat. Jerry built that boat from the pontoons up, funky and functional with wood benches in front and mismatched salvaged seats in the back.

Jerry pulls up to the state dock and loads your stuff. As you approach the island the Rap-Shaw boathouse comes into view with it's beautiful backlit loon logo. Jerry has pulled the club's John Deere Gator onto the dock with at least an inch to spare on each side. Gear goes in the Gator and Jerry roars off to deliver it to the porch of your cabin: Owl, Loon, Gull, Eagle, Chicken or Main Camp. Each cabin is a duplex with a shared bath, except for Main with its three bedrooms. Full occupancy is 28 people. The cabins date from the 1930s and 1940s. They are simple, clean and freshly painted. Comfortable single beds are the rule. Three times a day an old locomotive bell calls all campers to meals in the dining hall. Mike, the cook, turns out tasty meals that are served family style with campers bussing the tables.

As soon as I board the Club boat, I feel my daily cares and chores evaporate. My new daily schedule is up with the sun to walk Joli and listen to the loons, breakfast, boating, lunch, nap, swim, boating, communal cocktail hour on the porch of Main camp, dinner, boating and bed. One of the best features of the Club in my opinion is that each member can bring one dog. Our dog, Joli, knows Rap-Shaw well. She gets to run free, swim at any hour, chase sticks to her heart's delight and feed on table scraps. She also knows where Marie, the housekeeper, keeps her stash of dog biscuits.

Over the past decade the Club has worked hard to maintain its conservationist ethic with an emphasis on fishing and at the same time attract family members and people like us who love the woods and water from a seat in a quietly drifting canoe. Considerable funds were spent to upgrade the camp and make it accessible. The favorable result is measured by a pretty full reservation book and a balanced budget the past three years. The Club elected its first woman president this past year.

On Friday the hard core fishermen, women and kids arrived for the annual black fly derby. Old Adirondack hands know that it's generally a mistake to visit during June because of the clouds of biting black flies. At Rap-Shaw, as a challenge to the bugs, the Club conducts a fishing derby. Everyone hopes that the prevailing winds on the island and on the water will blow the bugs off target. Fishing all day Saturday from breakfast to dinner will give the person who catches the heaviest fish bragging rights for the next year. Small boats bob around the island jockeying for the best fishing hole. Driving rain showers Saturday morning only spurs the competitors on.

In the evening the setting sun glances off the waves and back lights the balsam that grow behind Loon camp. I drift into a peaceful sleep.

Merry has just begun a photo blog where she posts a picture a day. To see more pictures from our time at Rap-Shaw, and for other terrific photographs, check out meredithleonard.blogspot.com.

Circus Flora

It was a warm sunny day last Saturday as we made our way to the parking lot behind Powell Symphony Hall in the downtown St. Louis arts district where a beautiful circus tent awaited. Outside there was a modest pony ride, a concession stand, and an old automatic player circus organ. Inside the tent a wonderland awaited.

Circus Flora made St. Louis its home in 1987. http://www.circusflora.org/ It only runs for a few weeks each year. Every year there is a theme around which the acts are loosely assembled. This year the theme is “Medrano” drawn from the historic Cirque Medrano a/k/a Cirque Fernando that first set up at different locations in Paris in the late 19^th Century and continues as a traveling circus throughout Europe today. The basic story of this year's Circus Flora show is that the beautiful star of Medrano is a sought after socialite who attracts high society to the circus as well as some of the great artists of the time. In fact, famous paintings inspired by Cirque Medrano were done by Toulouse-Latrec [Jane Avril], Degas [Miss La La a la Cirque Fernando] and Renoir [Jugglers at the Cirque Fernando].

The big tent with four tall peaks is night blue inside with crystal chandeliers. At one end of the ring an elaborate red and gold pillared entranceway is capped by a band box where the five person circus orchestra sits. We sat in the box seats next to the ring, but not close enough to get squirted by the clown. The crowd numbered about 1000, with adults outnumbering children two to one.

This one-ring circus strives to be true to its European roots. Throughout the show a narrator in whiteface wearing a gold and sequin embroidered costume roams the ring telling the story and introducing the acts, weaving them into the story. Some acts fit the story better than others, but I don't want to quibble. For the most part the story line enhances a non-stop display of traditional circus skills. No lions, tigers or elephants, just ponies, stunningly beautiful horses, a goat, one main clown, and a comedy dog act with a dozen mixed breed rescue dogs. Interspersed with modest juggling and clown acts are world class performances by The Flying Wallendas on the high wire, Cossacks performing at full gallop on horseback, and The Flying Pages on trapeze. Because the story was set in 19^th Century Paris there were numbers incorporating the can-can and an astounding hoop act where the star encased herself in about fifty rotating hoops at once. Most acts somehow incorporate Nino the Clown (Giovanni Zoppe, one of the producers), in little red knit hat and the obligatory red bulb nose. Nino sometimes has a shadow, a very small child dressed in exactly the same costume.

We were very taken by the local teen acrobats, the St. Louis Arches, who train year round and also perform at the City Museum. http://circusday.org/News.html These kids are of different genders, ages and abilities; all beautifully full of spirit. They jump and tumble and build impossible human pyramids. We were immediately reminded of our teen gymnast neighbor from Syracuse, Taniya Williams, who we both felt would fit nicely into a Arches costume.

After a couple of hours we sauntered back into the sunny afternoon humming circus music. Overall the effect was like a dream play; not exactly a story, no moral or message, just the sights and sounds of a modest and wonderful circus. Circus Flora is theatre at it's best, original, accomplished and completely absorbing. It's a treasure waiting for everyone to discover.