Dodger Stadium

Only two Major League ballparks⸺Fenway Park and Wrigley Field⸺are older than Dodger Stadium. To be sure, both of these ballparks have Dodger Stadium beat by nearly fifty years, but it is still the oldest park west of the Mississippi. It is the largest baseball stadium in the world by seat capacity. Not too shabby. 

When the Dodgers came from Brooklyn in 1958, they spent their first four seasons in the Los Angeles Coliseum while their new stadium was being built. During the construction phase several residents were pressured to relocate. Tops of ridges were trimmed down, ravines filled, millions of cubic yards of dirt moved, and an entire elementary school was simply buried rather than demolished. (It currently sits beneath the pavement of the parking lot on the third base side.) The first season of Dodger Stadium saw a MLB attendance record of 2,755,184 fans. 

As a teenager I was not a Dodger fan. But that was only because they weren't the Braves. I did, however, have respect for them. They always seemed to be good. Back then their superstars were Pedro Guerrero, Steve Sax, Orel Hershiser and Fernando Valenzuela. And, of course, who could forget manager, Tommy Lasorda? 

Decades have passed and my heart has softened. For years now I have wanted to watch a game at Dodger Stadium and today was my lucky day. We had seats directly behind home plate . . . and in the nose-bleed section! Yes, it was a long walk to the upper deck, but we had a wonderful view of the whole field and San Gabriel Mountains. 

Being an hour early we decided to get our food while the crowds were still filing in. For $7.99 I ordered the famous Dodger Dog. There was nothing special about it except that it was about ten inches long. It wasn't even thicker than normal. I decorated mine with the standard ketchup, mustard, relish and onions. The banger came when we tallied the total of food with drinks for five people: a whopping $88!!! —I've never spent near that much on concessions. 

The Dodger Dog.

Many decks of Dodger Stadium.

I don't believe the game was sold out, but it was close. The Dodgers are always a favorite and it helps that they seem to be perennially good. This was also the “Freeway Series” against cross-town rivals Los Angeles Angels. 

There was an excitement in the air. Not only could I feel it, but I believe most of the 50,000 people there could also. For me it was the opportunity to see someone who was becoming a legend. It was like going to the ballpark and watching Willie Mays or Micky Mantle. Today we would be able to see in-person, Shohei Ohtani. 

I will admit that over the last three decades, I have not followed baseball like I used to. But Shohei Ohtani might help change that. He started his career in Japan and later made his way to the United States and the Major Leagues. He both bats and pitches, and is very good at both—a rarity in professional baseball. Comparisons have been made between him and Babe Ruth. This evening at the game there were thousands of fans with Dodger jerseys and “Ohtani 17” on the back. He was by far the most popular player in the stadium. 

Shohei Ohtani on deck.

One of many who wore a Shohei Ohtani jersey.

Angels dugout.

As the game progressed, not only was I mindful of current players, but also of the legends who once played in this stadium. As I strolled the walkway between levels I saw murals on the walls of Sandy Koufax and Don Drysdale. 

I remember my dad talking about Sandy Koufax when I was younger. Kofax played when the Dodgers moved from Brooklyn to Los Angeles. Even though he only competed twelve years in the Major Leagues, he is still considered one of the greatest pitchers of all time. He won the Cy Young Award three times and the National League Most Valuable Player once. He was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame on his first year of eligibility. 

Mural of Don Drysdale.

Beyond the outer doors of the upper deck gift shop is a beautiful view of the Los Angeles skyline. As the crow flies the stadium is just over a mile from downtown. (As I stepped into the plaza I didn't realize I had technically exited the stadium and it was a minor hassle to get back in.) 

Other than the view, the other thing that drew me to this plaza were the memorials for retired Dodger numbers. Each number bore a summery of that person's career. As far as I could tell, they all played in Los Angeles, and many also in Brooklyn. They included Gil Hodges, Duke Snider, Pee Wee Reese, and #42, Jackie Robinson. 

Memorial for Gil Hodges in the Retired Numbers Plaza.

View of Los Angeles from the Retired Numbers Plaza.  Memorial for Jackie Robinson partially visible.

A look from right field.

The evening was perfect, not a cloud in sight. After an hour the sun went down and lights came on. The crowd was enthusiastic, especially every time Ohtani came to bat. For the night he went 1 for 4, with a walk and a solid home run. In the end, the Dodgers won convincingly, 7-2. 

On our way out we were able to exit through the Retired Numbers Plaza. The view over Los Angeles was spectacular, now with all the skyscrapers lit up. 

The only negative of the night was that pesky L.A. traffic. It took us an hour to get out of the parking lot, and at least half of that we were at a complete stand-still! ♠

 

From Dodger Stadium looking toward Santa Monica.

 

Oracle Park

I didn't think we were going to make it on time after trying to navigate the San Francisco public transportation system. I couldn't even buy a ticket and there were no employees in the station! But we managed to figure it out and after another transfer made possible by a nice old gentleman, we were on our way! 

Now we were on a packed subway car mixed with Dodger and Giants fans. All stood side by side, donning their jerseys and caps. It was a display of pride and loyalty. 

Fans crammed inside a subway car.

We don't go to professional ballgames very often. We live too far away. Anytime we do it's a novelty and I relish every moment. Personally, I prefer baseball over other sports. There is a sense of national pride and tradition that makes it meaningful to me. 

We stepped off the train and instantly stood in the midst of the action. Long lines stood to buy tickets or enter the gates. Aroma from vendors grilling fat hotdogs floated through the air. Some people, including myself, admired the statue of Willie Mays, directly in front of the main entrance. There were other statues located around the ballpark, including greats such as Willie McCovey, Orlando Cepeda, Gaylord Perry and Juan Marchial. I would have loved to have walked around the park and looked at each one, but our fiasco with the train system delayed us so much that we didn't have time. 

The Willie Mays Gate at Oracle Park.

Vendors selling hot dogs outside the park.

Statue of Willie Mays.

We entered the Willie Mays Gate and walked up a series of long ramps, shoulder to shoulder with thousands of others. We searched for our seats which were behind third base, but on the upper deck. Finally we found our entry, just as a booming Pavarotti voice sang the National Anthem. 

The view from our seats was amazing! From our perch we could see nearly the entire stadium and beyond. Behind right field was San Francisco Bay where we could see boats and all the way to Oakland. The right-field wall was distinct, made with bricks and arches to resemble the old Polo Grounds in New York. 

Oracle Park in San Francisco, California.

The family.

I remember watching ballgames on television as a kid, and especially those at Candlestick Park here in San Francisco. It was also located on the bay, close enough that small boats could wait beyond the fence for a home run to be hit. At that time I made it a goal to some day make it to Candlestick. Of course, that didn't happen and they tore it down. But its replacement, Oracle Park, felt just as spectacular. 

Oracle Park first saw action in 2000, and over the years has had several different names. It has a capacity of 41,915. The deepest part of the field is right-center, where it is a whopping 415 feet from home plate. This section is called “triples alley” due to the bad bounces that tend to happen here. 

Levi's Landing in right field resembles the brick wall at the Polo Grounds in New York.

The game started with a banger when Mookie Betts for the Dodgers had a lead-off home run. I haven't followed the sport very well for years, but Mookie Betts was one of the few names that sounded familiar. Although it came from the visiting side, the crowd lit up with excitement. Dodger fans seemed to be as well represented as those from the Giants. 

The starting pitcher for Los Angeles was Julio Urías, a Mexican-born player whom I had never heard of. Right away I could see that he was good. He was a lefty, so we watched from the backside as he wound up and lifted his right leg.  I was fascinated with how he twisted his torso, almost to face the batter. Then he would unwind, releasing his energy with a long stride toward home plate, and deliver a 95 mph fastball. He was very good and the Giants found it difficult to get on base. 

Julio Urias, a Mexican-born pitcher for the Dodgers.

Even if you're not a baseball fan, it is exciting to attend a Major League ballgame for the environment alone—especially with a large and enthusiastic crowd. This one didn't disappoint. I think that anytime a team from Los Angeles travels, they are hated and draw strong emotion. During this game, the chant “Beat L.A.” emerged multiple times. Of course, that didn't settle too well for the many Dodger fans in the stadium. The group behind us started their own parody of the chant: “East L.A., East L.A.!” I couldn't help but to lean back and smile. 

One goal of mine was to buy everyone in the family a ridiculously expensive snack from the concessions. For myself, I chose one of the big fat Polish hotdogs that I saw others eating. It was so big it barely fit in my mouth. They topped it with a plethora of diced peppers and onions. Even though it was a mess, it was worth every dollar. 

As I previously mentioned, I don't keep up with baseball well enough to be familiar with many of the players. But one name for sure struck me—Yastrzemski. Mike Yastrzemski is the grandson of Hall of Famer, Carl Yastrzemski. The younger plays right field for San Francisco. Although there was nothing spectacular about his play on this night (he was only 1 for 4), it was fascinating to watch him, knowing that greatness was in his blood. 

Mike Yastrzemski, grandson of Hall of Famer, Carl Yastrzemski.

By now the sun had set behind us into the depths of the Pacific Ocean, and stadium lights came on. The bay was completely black except for a few lights from the boats. A mist of rain swept through from time to time, but not enough to dampen anything. By this time the Giants were slipping further behind, needing a miracle if they were to have a chance. 

Then came the top of the seventh when Max Muncy (another guy I've never heard of) walloped a grand slam over the left field fence. This was the nail in the coffin. L.A. was now up 9 to 1. Some of the more sensible Giants fans began to file out to get a head start on the post-game rush. 

We, however, stayed until the end. I was going to relish every minute of it. We sat in open-air with the smell of the bay drifting in. There was still an excitement in the air, even though the home team was about to lose. The chants of “Beat L.A.” were nowhere to be heard. 

It was a madhouse after the final pitch. I didn't think we'd make it out without something happening to us. But somehow we made the train. Once again, Dodger and Giants fans, now beleaguered, stood side by side on a crowded subway car. ♠

 

A spectacular evening at Oracle Park in San Francisco.

 

 

12 Family Adventures in Florida

Welcome to our family!
 
We just got back from the best vacation we have ever been on as an entire family. It is also the furthest we have traveled as a tribe. We packed our bags and flew 2,800 miles to sunny Florida, or so we hoped. August is hurricane season and a spinning storm on the radar could have ruined our trip. But it didn't.
 
It was the first time that three of my kids had flown on an airplane. It was fun to watch them as the jet fired its engine and the g-force glued them to their seats, and as they intently watched through the window the tiny objects on the ground as we flew overhead.
 
There was never a dull moment. For one week we traveled from the Gulf Coast to the Atlantic and had a new experience everyday. We felt true humidity, drove on toll roads, watched for alligators, played croquette in my brother-in-law's back yard, waited in a miserable traffic jam in Orlando and spotted several armadillo road-kills.
 
We learned that Florida is a beautiful state. Rows and rows of tall forest grow along the roads. Swamps and lakes are everywhere. Beaches here have the finest white sand I have ever seen, and there are small, quick lizards everywhere.
 
What follows is a list of our adventures:
 

1. Watching a rocket launch—from 94 miles away! As luck would have it, we were in Florida for the final launch of the Delta IV Medium rocket. The only problem was that we were also at Butler Beach, which is a considerable distance from the Kennedy Space Center. We woke up early enough to be on the beach at 8:45. Jordan watched the live stream on his phone and we all looked toward the south. Billowing clouds hung low in the horizon, but beyond that the skies were clear. We had heard you could see the rocket from this distance, but no one in our group had actually done it. The countdown came, the rocket lifted, and within seconds we could see an arching plume in the southern sky. A couple minutes later came the sonic boom.
 

2. Learning to surf. After watching the rocket launch, it was our turn to learn how to surf. Living in a desert, it is no surprise that no one in our family has ever surfed. Luckily we have friends who live in St. Augustine that were anxious to give us lessons. It didn't look pretty. There were a lot of scrapes and bruises, and very little standing up on the surf board. But our family consensus was that learning to surf was the highlight of our trip. Thanks to Dirk and Wendy for giving us such an experience.
 

3. Eating Key-lime pie. We were told that we had to try the key-lime pie. On our way home from the beach we found a small store advertizing homemade key-lime pie and orange juice ice cream. We had to stop! We were happy to find it because they were closing for the season the next day. We bought one pie and a quart of ice cream and took them back to our Airbnb where they waited in our refrigerator until about midnight when we pulled out the pie and sliced it up. I will admit, I wasn't disappointed.
 

4. Pictures on the beach. Jenelle has always dreamed of having family pictures taken on the beach. Everything came together for the perfect evening! The water was crystal-clear and the storm clouds suppressed their rain. The sunset radiated majestically. The girls were beautiful. On our way there we forgot Brittany's picture, but luckily we remembered in time to turn around and get it. The setting for our perfect evening was Indian Rocks Beach, a lesser known beach compared to its cousin in the north.
 

5. Dining at Waffle House.  Maybe I've lived a sheltered life, but I've never eaten at Waffle House. The closest one to our home is over 400 miles away in Phoenix, Arizona. When I saw one in Cocoa Beach, I knew we had to try it. I fell in love before I even took a bite. Everything was pretty darn cheap. Then I fell in love even more when I saw the portions and tasted the food. In this place there is nothing wrong with ordering a hamburger with a waffle. And I will say that my waffle was the best I've ever had.
 

6. Riding the carousel. Next to the library in St. Augustine is a carousel. The cost to ride is $1 per person. Certainly not what we expected coming to one of America's most historic cities, but well worth our time.
 

7. Wandering through a very old city.  St. Augustine is the longest continually inhabited city of European origin in the United States. We spent the evening strolling around the old quarter and getting a brief feel of the atmosphere. I will admit that it is a bit on the touristy side, with most things aimed to get your money (and a lot of it). It has a Disneyland feel, but with a sprinkling of historical landmarks. It was here that Savanah was happy to meet up with her friend, Gavin, who's mother drove him eight hours from North Carolina to meet us!
 

8. A taste of Havana.  One of my goals was to eat at a Cuban restaurant in Florida. We found Pepo's Cuban Cafe in St. Petersburg and it fulfilled all our expectations, including a low cost. I was worried we would have to reserve in advance to get a table, but when we arrived we were the only ones there. I ordered their original pork dish, with Spanish beans and black rice on the side. It came with toasted Cuban bread and butter. The girls behind the counter must have come straight from Cuba because we could barely understand them. The decor of the restaurant was great, with several large paintings of Havana on the wall. This was the first true Cuban meal for any of us.
 

9. Evening at the ballpark.  I am trying to visit all the Major League Baseball stadiums I can before I die. I am now up to three. Since we were in the area, we had to catch a Tampa Bay Rays game. Kaitlyn and I both love baseball, but I hoped the rest of the family would too. Our seats were low enough we could watch the pitchers in the bullpen close-up. Even though there were a meager 10,000 spectators, there was still a lot of hooting, hollering, cowbells and an attempt at the wave. Kaitlyn brought her mitt, hoping to catch a foul ball (which is a sure sign that nothing will come our way).
 

10. Dancing at Steak 'n Shake.  Okay, maybe we weren't dancing, but sometimes we felt like it! Probably our favorite meal in Florida was at a Steak 'n Shake in Merritt Island. It was casual with good tasting food in a fun environment. This is another one of those restaurants we don't have in Utah, or many other places in the West.
 

11. Day at Cocoa Beach.  I wish we hadn't left Cocoa Beach. We had so little time there. I knew it would be our last stop at the ocean and I wished to relish every moment. A storm was brewing off the Atlantic and the waves seemed to come stronger and more frequent than usual. When a wave would come I would dive in, head first, then hold my breath and float in the water for thirty seconds while a couple more rollers came in and tossed me around. That was my ritual of the day.

It was in Cocoa Beach that we visited Ron Jon's Surf Shop and learned what we needed to buy to become true surf bums. Later that day Jordan and I took a walk up the main drag, then looped around and walked back to our hotel via the beach. By now more people were on the beach and the sun was high on the horizon. We cherished every minute we had, knowing that the next time that these two desert-dwellers would return to the beach would be far too distant in the future.
 

12. NASA. Two of our kids, Jordan and Jenna, have a passion for science and anything that has to do with space exploration. For this reason I knew we had to visit the Kennedy Space Center. Our visit lasted eight hours and was well worth the price of admission. We learned a ton and got a close-up look at many of the sites and artifacts that surround the history of NASA. For me, personally, the most touching experience was learning about the astronauts that died in various missions since the 1960's. I can remember both the Challenger and Columbia disasters, and to be able to learn of the people inside those shuttles was a very humbling experience. The two major feelings I left with were that of awe and sadness. Awe for the major accomplishments of space travel and sadness for those who lost their life in this pursuit. ♠

48 Hours in the Gateway City

Our first experience with St. Louis comes by accident. On our way to the hotel, the GPS takes us the wrong direction and we end up in a residential neighborhood south of Downtown. The homes are all made of red brick and uniform in shape with front steps leading to the sidewalk. It looks like a scene from Archie Bunker. A man sits outside his door and reads a newspaper. I wish to get out and explore this new world I have briefly entered, but can't. Within five minutes we have corrected our route and are back on Interstate 44 toward our hotel.
 
We lodge in the area of Laclede's Landing. Our balcony on the third level sits nose-to-nose with a double-decker conduit of traffic. To say the least, it is very noisy. Yet our view extends beyond the din, toward the skyscrapers of Downtown and the stadium for the St. Louis Rams.
 

Flooding on the Mississippi River from Martin Luther King Bridge.

We waste little time and return to the streets for exploration. Near our hotel is the Martin Luther King Bridge. It will soon be under construction and is currently closed to vehicles. We slip past a concrete barricade and walk onto the bridge. We find ourselves looking down over the Mississippi River. Other than a group of people in the distance, we are the only humans on the bridge.
 
The river is well above flood-stage, with an entire street completely submerged in the slow-moving water—street signs poking above the surface. The St. Louis skyline is inescapable. The Gateway Arch and skyscrapers form a perfect silhouette. The overhead steel beams give the bridge a picturesque appeal. Jenelle comments that she would love to do a bridle-shoot here. We watch a train that appears to be at least a mile long creep along the edge of the river and under the bridge and through a small tunnel.
 
After the bridge we walk back toward Downtown and manage to cross the barriers of traffic. Skyscrapers surround us. In spite of all the buildings, I feel like there isn't much to see. No stores, no shops, no places to eat unless it is upper-end. A lot of nothing. At least that is how it seems.
 

Within minutes we begin seeing groups of people wearing Cardinals jerseys walking in our direction. They appear sullen. Soon, the entire sidewalk is flooded with Cardinals fans. Busch Stadium is just up the street and the game must have just gotten out. From a parking garage above, an antagonistic man yells down, “You guys can't even win a game!” Everyone ignores him and continues to walk.
 
We know that many will soon be looking for a place to eat. We make a split-second decision to find a place before lines get out of control. We choose Hamburger Mary's, an eatery on Washington Avenue. We walk in just before 7 pm and can tell that some sort of show is about to begin. They seat us in a section away from the stage where we can watch the show on a screen and perhaps catch glimpses through the bar. In the end, I am glad we don't have a front-row seat. The spectacle ends up being a drag show, with men dressed up as women and showing their moves for tips.
 
Aside from the hedonistic vibe of the restaurant, my hamburger is very good, although overpriced. On our way out, we make sure that none of the drag queens are in our way.
 
We stop at a small grocery store to buy food for breakfast. The prices are more in line with that of a gas station. By now, it is dark and it feels as though the thugs are coming out. Things are getting a bit sketchy. I can't help but to remember that St. Louis is the homicide capital of the United States. Whiffs of marijuana fill the air. Everyone, aside from us, is buying smokes or alcohol. We feel an urgency to get back to our room.
 

Old Courthouse from the Gateway Arch.

The following morning is our best day of weather in Missouri. The sun is out and skies are blue.
 
Our first stop is the Gateway Arch. You can't help but to be mesmerized by this gigantic structure. At 630 feet high, it is the tallest man-made monument in the Western Hemisphere. It seems to be ubiquitous. At every new turn there is a new perspective.
 
We spend about an hour near the arch, just admiring it's majesty and finding new angles for photography. You can pay money and take a ride to the top, but we have neither the time nor budget.
 
The arch was completed in 1965 and meant to memorialize St. Louis's history as the gateway to the Western frontier. It is hard to believe that this city was once the border of the wilderness, with terra incognita beyond its limits. It is the city from which Lewis and Clark set out on their epic exploratory mission.
 

Nearby is the Basilica of Saint Louis, also known as the Old Cathedral. Because of it's historical significance, it was allowed to remain standing while the rest of the buildings in the area were demolished with the construction of the arch.
 
We visit the basilica and then the Old Courthouse, which is in perfect alignment with the arch. The courthouse is free and is famous for being the setting of the Dred Scott case before it went to the United States Supreme Court. The building is similar in appearance to the United States Capitol Building. It's dome is modeled after St. Peters Basilica in Vatican City.
 

Basilica of St. Louis.

The Old Courthouse was home to the Dred Scott Case before it went to the Supreme Court.

St. Louis is a beautiful city, with ample parks and statues. The trees are in bloom during our visit. We manage to find a bite to eat, then make our way toward Busch Stadium to root, root, root for the home team!
 
Our seats on the third balcony provide a panoramic view of the city's skyline. I think we are the only people in the stadium without some sort of Cardinals memorabilia (and I'm not going to pay $89 for a hoodie!).
 

We sit next to a father and his two boys. The sibling next to me (about 12-years old) is the most energetic of the two and never shies away from asking questions. At least twenty times, from the bottom of his lungs, he tries to begin a chant: “Let's go Cardinals, let's go!! [Clap, clap.] Let's go Cardinal's, let's go!!! [Clap, clap.]” Only a couple times does anyone join in. “What's wrong with everybody today?” he complains.
 
He asks where we are from, but has no idea where Utah is located. Then he asks, “But you ARE a Cardinals fan, aren't you?” When I tell him I am not a Cardinals fan, he becomes bewildered, wondering how a person like me could exist in the world. But then I tell him that neither am I a Padres fan, but hope that the Cardinals will win, since they are the home team. He is reassured by that.
 
In the end, the Cardinals lose. They fall apart in the top of the eighth inning.
 

Stan "The Man" Musial.

After the game we stop for pictures at the entrance of the stadium with a statue of Stan “The Man” Musial. For the next hour we wander the streets, not finding much to do, but enjoying the beauty of the city. About this time a St. Louis Blues hockey game gets out, and suddenly we find that we are “the only ones in town” without a Blues jersey.
 
We take the Metrolink back to Laclede's Landing and find a place to eat called the Old Spaghetti Factory. Our wait time is one hour. Jenelle is worn out so she kicks back in the restaurant while I wander about the city on foot.
 

The Old Spaghetti Factory in the area of Laclede's Landing.

Not only is there a Cardinals and Blues game in town today, Comic Con is here also. I also learn that in St. Louis it is only optional for a car to stop at a red light. Many cars brazenly push their way through traffic, to the point I am a little scared to cross the street.
 
Back at the restaurant I enjoy a plate of spaghetti. Although once again overpriced, our meal is very good and service is excellent. We return to our hotel with a final night of rest in St. Louis.
 

The next morning we check out of our hotel and immediately drive across the Mississippi into Illinois. I have long been fascinated with Native American history and culture and was pleasantly surprised when I learned that the remains of an ancient city of the Mississippi mound-builders was just five miles away.
 
Cahokia was once the largest city in America north of Mexico. Collapse came before the arrival of Europeans and the reason largely remains a mystery. Today, several of their man-made mounds still exist, including the largest, Monks Mound. Archeologists speculate that homes and temples of the leaders were built upon these heaps of earth. Some of the smaller ones are burial mounds. With such a small percentage of them having been excavated, most of what lies underneath remains a mystery.
 
Admission to the grounds and museum are free. One could spend a full day wandering the extensive trail system. In addition to several mounds, there are groves of trees, swamps and whitetail deer. We only have a couple hours to spare, so we barely scratch the surface.
 

Monks Mound is the largest mound at Cahokia.

St. Louis skyline from Monks Mound.

Back on the Missouri side of the river, our time is winding down. As stated earlier, I really hoped to see what life is like in St. Louis beyond the traps of tourism. With this pursuit in mind, we take an exit off I-70 into Old North St. Louis.
 
I feel like we have just entered the hood. I find my red-brick buildings. Most of them are tall and skinny. Several are vacant and partially destroyed by fire. As a geographical reminder, our location is not too far from Ferguson, Missouri, the site of riots in 2014 resulting from the shooting of Michael Brown by a white police officer.
 
I pull over a couple of times to take pictures. Nearby a man of color has a verbal altercation with his girlfriend in an alleyway. Behind me a truck speeds through a stop sign. Jenelle feels unsafe and stays in the car.
 
Around the corner is the beautiful Most Holy Trinity Catholic Church. It looks out of place in this neighborhood. It makes me wonder the nature of the neighborhood at the time of it's construction.
 

Home in Old North St. Louis.

Most Holy Trinity Catholic Church, as seen from Mallinckrodt Street.

Our next stop (on the way to the airport) is the Calvary Cemetery. I could spend hours here. This graveyard is gigantic and contains some of the most important burials in the city. The blooming trees and rolling slopes make for a beautiful setting.
 
General William Sherman and Dred Scott are buried here and we visit both of their graves. It is interesting that pennies are placed on Dred Scott's grave, supposedly honoring Lincoln as the great emancipator.
 

Calvary Cemetery in St. Louis.

Near the end of our rope of time, we now look for a place to eat before going to the airport. We drive down West Flourissant Avenue and into the boundaries of Jennings (which, in turn, borders Ferguson).
 
What we find is Lee's Famous Fried Chicken. When we enter, we are the only whites inside. Everyone else is as black as ebony. But there is a different feel to this. I quickly notice that everyone here is dressed in their Sunday best, the men in suits and vests, and ladies in a dress, pearls and lipstick—some with a wide hat for shade. We hear them talking about singing in the choir. They have just got out of church. The girl behind the counter must be in her early twenties and has smooth skin and hair made into a hundred tight braids.
 
Rather than feeling like I am in the hood, I feel as if I have just stepped inside a room with Aunt Chloe and Uncle Tom, “whose truly African features [are] characterized by an expression of grave and steady good sense, united with much kindness and benevolence.”
 

Fried liver at Lee's Famous Fried Chicken.

For me, this is one of the most pleasant surprises of our trip. I find myself in their world, well off the beaten path.
 
Jenelle orders chicken strips, which I will admit are better than KFC. As for me, I order fried liver and Cajun rice. It isn't too bad either. ♠