Greetings From Saint Something, Missouri

by bill - 2023-10-29 09:25:01 ( in life, travel, usa, missouri) [php version] rebuild

I was in no rush to leave and didn't hit the road until 9:30 on my drive from middle Tennessee to Saint Robert, Missouri. I could never remember that name, calling it Saint Something in my head. Even now, I wanted to type Saint Thomas. How many saints are there, anyway?

The drive was blissfully uneventful, with the highlight being Sheryl Crow's hometown in what locals probably call the boot heel of Missouri. Local kids probably liken it to a certain appendage. Either way, it's the southeast corner of the state that reaches down and takes what should be the northeast corner of Arkansas. Note to Self: Find out how that came to be. I forgot the name of that town, too. No, wait, it's Kennett, Missouri, and the only thing noteworthy about it were the signs at either end proclaiming it Sheryl Crow's hometown.

On second thought, crossing over the mighty Mississippi River was the highlight. And, if I can find that moment -- coming or going -- on the dashcam's endless footage, I'll post it here. Don't hold your breath. [UPDATE: Here it is, re-entering Tennessee on my way home. Try to contain your excitement. While I'm at it, this map shows the halfway point of my trip, because I'm sure you were wondering.]

I'm in the hotel room in Saint Robert now, typing while enjoying my first cup of coffee. It's the coffee/caffeine that really writes all my stories. I should give it proper credit. Some writers let nicotine and caffeine tag-team the writing, but I quit smoking twenty years ago. The trick there, by the way, boils down to repeatedly reminding yourself you are NOT a smoker.

Anyway, it's time for another cup from the free hotel breakfast down the hall. I love those free breakfasts. And this time, I made waffles, though I don't usually go to the trouble. It's probably because I recently came across a picture from twelve years ago showing my daughter's waffles. She was so proud, we took a picture. And thus began that annoying trend of people photographing their meals. Joking! We're not responsible. Don't hurt us.

This morning, after I poured the mix onto the hot skillet, the waffle-maker beeped at me until the guy on duty said, "Rotate the handle, buddy." Poor guy probably has to say that a hundred times a day. I'm going back for that second cup now as I wait until 8:30 when my brother Doug and his boys are supposed to show up at the soccer field a few miles from here.

I should've brought my own coffee cup on this trip; the big, black "stack-of-tires" one my daughter got me for Father's Day. Its size doesn't do me any good at home since my Keurig limits the amount per cup -- though I guess I could add one K-cup after the other -- but on a free-flowing coffee-maker like the hotel's, a big cup would be perfect. These Styrofoam ones are hard to handle. I keep spilling. They should put a sign on the coffee machine saying "Let go of the 'pour' button sooner than you might think," because the coffee overflowed onto my hands, the counter, and the floor. Silly First World problems, I know.

Speaking of food -- yes, I was was, remember the waffles? -- I found a couple of good restaurants: A gyro/pizza place called Spartan Gyros in Saint Robert on Missouri Avenue (brief video clip here); and a Mexican place called El Acapulco in Poplar Bluff on the way back; neither of whom can compare to my sister-in-law's cooking. As to the Mexican restaurant, I ended up there because at the A&W, which I never see anymore, the drive-thru line was wrapped around the building and there was not a single open spot in the parking lot.

The boys' soccer games were fun to watch (from the warmth of my car, it was so cold out). It reminded me of my daughter's games, so I ended up giving her and my wife regular updates via text. Both of my brother's boys are pretty good, and he is rightfully proud.

Their first house here has grown on them to the point where they are now a bit sad to leave it, but they like the new one even more, so it's all good. It wasn't until we got to the new place that I finally delivered the guitars I had brought with me for the boys. Hey, I'm from middle Tennessee, of course I brought guitars! Joking. I don't even play.

Anyway, I brought two guitars, one for each boy, gifts bequeathed by my recently-deceased brother, Don. How I got those guitars from his widow was -- as my wife would say -- a bit of a "goat rope" itself. I had emailed the widow -- who shall remain nameless -- saying I would be visiting Missouri and asking if those guitars were ready. She said they would be ready on such-and-such day and I could stop by her house to pick them up. I brought my wife along on the agreed-upon evening, mainly to keep me civil.

We were on the Interstate, just a few miles from our destination when I got a text saying, "Bill, change of plans, you'll have to pick them up from a friend of mine, so-and-so." Tara and I both thought she was making an excuse to avoid dealing with me. Then the widow added, "I'm having chest pains and going to the emergency room." After that, of course, we were honestly worried.

When we got to this friend's house, she did not seem the least bit concerned about her friend rushing to the ER with chest pains. And, how was it that the guitars got there so fast? The original plan was to pick them up from the widow's house. The change of plans was due to these sudden chest pains. If you were having chest pains, would you take the time to bring the guitars to a friend's house first, or even arrange to have the friend pick them up herself? No. The whole thing was a charade to avoid dealing with me, after all. Pathetic, really. And, I'm really not that hard to deal with.

Back to the happier subject of my brother Doug and his wife: I have to say I was truly impressed with how flexible they are about everything. No matter what comes up, they just deal with it and keep moving forward. Our former sister-in-law could learn a few things from them.