St Louis

And I circle back around again, but this time not into my past, buy my family’s past. I was in St Louis for a Jesuit dean conference…the place my parents grew up and the home of more cousins that I can count. This is my third trip and the first time that the “Saint” part of the city actually hit me. As a city founded by the French Catholics, of course it would named after a saint, but since I am Jewish that name never meant anything. We don’t have saints.

And of course even though there is a huge Catholic community, there is also a large (though not as large) Jewish community. And I might be related to half of them.

One of my favorite cousins picked be up for dinner from the most artsy hotel I have ever seen. My room, which was on the Puccini floor, looked and felt like an artist’s loft. There was art on the wall, sculptures outside the window, public art in the circle drive, and installation pieces in the hallways.

There was also a body builder competition being held close by, so the fitness center was full of half naked women and heels and men in Speedos posing in front of the wall to wall mirrors. Which, interestingly, was not very motivational for my workout.

But back to dinner. We went to a wonderful restaurant in an upscale area, lit Shabbat candles at the table, blessed the wine, blessed the bread, and wished each other Shabbat Shalom. And yes, if you are curious, I did have a hat on. Easy in St Louis where hats fit in.

My cousin and her husband looked up and waved at a classy woman who walked into the party room behind us. There as a pause, and then they laughed and said, “that is your cousin Debbie.” The other side of the family, but the sides of the family all know each other. So we crashed the party and hugged and talked to Debbie's parents. They had been very close to my brother, so we shared memories

I did not grow up with any of these cousins. I was in LA…a world away…until I left home and had even less connect with my distant family. But here I was in another city hugging people from my parent’s past…who belong to my present and my future. 

I was reflecting on this in the morning as I walked around and took pictures of the street art. The dog park is even a sculpture garden. No wedding dress pictures, but lots of memories.