Goodbye Dad

About 90 minutes into 2008 we got the call from the hospital, my Dad went into “code blue.” My Dad, 78, passed as my brother and I arrived. I got to Oklahoma City the afternoon of the 31st and was able to spend a couple of hours there in the hospital with him. He never recovered from surgery on the 12th of December and although his vital signs were up and down daily it was becoming clearer that he would not recover. I think he was waiting for me to arrive and say goodbye before he checked out.

While I had time to prepare myself for this natural ending I was not prepared to see my father, always a tough man, very thin with so many tubes and such. He was unable to open his eyes or speak. Perhaps he didn’t know I was even there? I talked anyway knowing his mind was stronger than his body. His time suffering in the hospital was over. They had tried to resuscitate him as he had not signed anything indicating otherwise. Even though, had they been able to keep him alive they’d have done additional damage in doing so.

Regular readers will recall that I started this blog on October 31st 2004 after my Dad had a massive heart attack on October 1st, 2004. He was hospitalized most of that month. We were fortunate that a CPR instructor had missed the highway exit he originally wanted so that he was there to see my Dad’s van cross three lanes of traffic on a side road as he had his heart attack. This stranger kept him alive until paramedics arrived. It was not his time.
Following my mom’s passing in late June 2006 (see post) my dad was eager to begin remodeling their home, the only home I’d ever known. My two older brothers had lived in other houses but not me. Nearly every room got painted, new flooring went down and my old bedroom became an office complete with a reused set of French doors my Dad had been saving for a few years for just that task.

My Dad was always a hard worker. He spent the bulk of his working life (50+ years) as a carpenter after starting off as a truck driver for a local produce distributor in Western Oklahoma. At the height of his carpentry career things took a quick turn for the worse. My oldest brother, not quite 17 when I was born, explains from a testimonial he wrote for the services:

Our lives changed dramatically on a Friday evening in July 1967 as we were returning from work when a car crossed the centerline and hit us head on. Dad’s leg was crushed so badly that the doctors were ready to amputate his leg or at least fuse his ankle from movement if the leg could be saved. Dad, determined and stubborn as ever told the doctors that he would hobble out of the hospital if they tried either option. His livelihood depended on use of his leg and he demanded that they fix it so he could walk and climb ladders. Dad was unable to return to carpentry work for almost a year, which left it to me to keep his business going. I tried to sell my car and even quit school to help out, but dad wouldn’t have any part of it. He would not let me jeopardize my future, even if times were hard. Dad worked at a lumberyard in a cast, returning to working long before he should have to support his family.

Here are a couple of images of the van after it has been towed the few blocks back to our house.

My brother had turned 17 the month prior and my Dad had just celebrated his 38th birthday. My brother hit is head on the windshield, giving him many cuts from the glass. I’m told that when my Mom got the call she grabbed my other brother, then 7, and me, less than five months old, and we headed in the Plymouth Valiant to the scene less than a half mile away. When my Mom saw my brother covered in blood she nearly passed out. The ambulance driver, Vondel Smith, grabbed me and my 7-year old brother from my mom. Smith was a funeral director but at that time in Oklahoma City they drove ambulances, a conflict of interest if you ask me. Once my oldest brother was cleaned up and bandaged he was OK (well, except for that high school photo with almost no hair — in the 1960s). My Dad, as the above indicated, was not doing too well. The rest of his life he visited a chiropractor.

Vondel Smith, the funeral director that held me during this time later built a new home at some point in the late 1970s. My Dad did the outside carpentry trim and I was there to help out. Services for both my parents were held at his funeral home, now run by his sons.

The red Valiant, parked next to the van in the above photo, was my Mom’s favorite car. I think it was a 1963 — it had been a dealer demonstrator model. About a year or so after the accident with the van my Dad was taking me somewhere. A driver ran a red light and plowed into the passenger side of the vehicle. So I was still in diapers at this time and interestingly enough in a car seat. Well, what qualified as a car seat in those days. The home builder my Dad worked for over many decades, Dean and his wife Virginia, had purchased this car seat for use with me. I was bundled to it but it simply sat on the front seat of the car. The impact of the other driver caused our car to spin, hitting another car and smashing out the rear window. After coming to a stop my Dad looked to his right to check on me and I wasn’t there — the car seat and me had landed in the back seat among all the broken glass. I was fine. Mom’s favorite car, however, was not. For many years later my Mom would tease my Dad about wrecking her car.

From my oldest brother again:

My dad was undoubtedly the most honest and ethical person I have ever known. Of the countless examples, I remember several occasions after I started working with Dad related to working on difficult jobs during inclement weather. Dad was performing this particular job on an hourly basis for his time and mine. We were working in absolutely miserable weather and while we were making progress on the job, it was much slower than normal. Even though working was extremely difficult under these conditions, Dad would not charge the man for all of the hours, because were not accomplishing what we could have in ideal conditions. My dad could not cheat someone if his life depended on it and I will always remember that trait in him.

Dad took such pride in doing things that others deemed too hard and could then make it look easy. I knew that he worked extra hard on many details and even though he was incredibly smart and capable; he loved it when things were hard, difficult, and complicated. He stood out from all others in this regard, in my estimation.

And he would do all sorts of projects. My other brother describes one incident on the way home after work one summer day:

We crossed 89th Street and my dad began honking at the car in front of us, which happened to be a black and white. He kept honking until he successfully pulled the police car over. When the officer got out to inquire as to the problem, my dad pointed out that the exhaust was dragging the ground, and that he would have him fixed up in a jiffy. While the law officer and this young boy stood wide eyed with our jaws hanging down, dad commenced to slide under the car, on the dirty shoulder, and use bailing wire to secure the tail pipe before instructing the officer to get it checked at the mechanic and then sending him on his way after the officer answered, “yes sir”.

Yes, my Dad stopped, and then repaired, a police car on the side of the road. He swapped engines in another van as well as in a Ford Fairmont Future that I had in high school. He built countless projects around the house as well, like the alligator bird feeder he carved out of a piece of old wood:

Dad’s great-grandson, my great-nephew, was running around the back yard after the services but always coming back to the alligator. Or was it a crocodile? The little one thinks it is a dinosaur. My oldest brother got this handiwork, where you put the bird feed in the mouth, for his backyard in Northern California. They named him Irwin after Steve Irwin.

Dad was always willing to drive up to St. Louis, with or without my Mom, to help me out with a project. His work exists in several properties in St. Louis in addition to the many in Oklahoma. After 40 years of having a very skilled carpenter around, I’m going to have to learn how to do some things for myself.

Every time my folks would visit me my Dad would joke about one of his favorite things about St. Louis — that the buildings were older than him. Born in 1929, in a small town in Texas, he had an older step-brother and over many years six younger siblings. They grew up in a very poor area of Western Oklahoma during the Depression and dust bowl days. Of the eight, he was the second to pass.

Being 17 years younger than my older brother meant we had very different parents. On one hand, the older two had broken them in a bit but on the other they got set in their ways. While I was never the good carpenter’s assistant my two older brothers were, I was the one that my Dad would talk to about projects he was working on. We’d sit and talk about what he was trying to do (such as a new lake cabin, an addition to a home, etc…) and I’d sketch out ideas. We disagreed as much as we agreed. Mom would
yell in from the other room, “Stop arguing in there.” Dad and I would respond, in unison, “We’re not arguing, we’re discussing.” We’d then resume bantering back and forth over whatever it was we had been debating. This routine became a running joke.

My Dad was not a religious person but he proved that you didn’t have to go to church to be a good person. He demonstrated, on a daily basis, that hard work and attention to detail was very important to doing a good and lasting job — regardless of the task. I hold this close today and try to follow his example. As you can imagine there are so many stories of a personal nature, not really appropriate to share here.

The day after the services my brothers and I were in the house. Two of us were flying out of town in a couple of days and we wanted to remove those items that held special memories for us. As we and other relatives poured through closets, cupboards and under-bed boxes we shared memories. Some of the stories told were the first time I had ever heard them, being so much younger. Old photos brought up good and bad times. Neighbors, some since day one, stopped by to share more memories.

In all of this I realized that not only did I lose my Dad but that now both parents have passed. I stopped at a good place to have a cry, the Oklahoma City Bombing Memorial.

While I still have numerous relatives in Oklahoma City my strong connection is now gone. Facing the fact that our family home will be cleared of all our possessions and that it will be sold, I suddenly realized that St. Louis is my home. Yes, I’ve lived here for nearly 18 years now but “home” was always back with Mom & Dad — in my old room with that dated furniture and so on.

I’m trying to simplify the “things” in my life but I did ship back a few boxes of items such as a few bowls my Mom had used my entire life. One, I recall, was the one she’d use to mix cake batter. I’d sit on the kitchen floor and clean out the bowl of every last bit of cake batter. Yeah, uncooked eggs and all. I rode my bicycle all over the place without a helmet too. I got one of my Dad’s old hammers as well as his well worn carpenter’s folding rule. Old report cards and class pictures are now something I need to scan and save. I like the pictures of me prior to getting my big 1980s glasses. Like when I was around age 5 (at right).

Goodbye Dad, goodbye Mom.  Thank you for the wonderful life lessons and all the memories.  Thank you to all of you reading for allowing me to take this time and space to stroll down memory lane.   – Steve

Farewell 2007 and Hello 2008

What a year 2007 was. Schools, Metro, Sherman George were all hot topics. While parts of the city and region got more urbanized and walkable other parts continued down the path towards mandating an automobile just to get around. I got rid of my car and moved downtown to a loft to make it easier not to own a car. I’ve been walking and bicycling more since doing so.

2008 promises to be an interesting year with highway 40 closing tomorrow, an effort to recall Mayor Slay, a push for more charter schools, an as yet undisclosed plan by Paul McKee for a large swath of North St. Louis and so much more.

Filing opens in January for those seeking to be Committeemen and Committeewomen in their wards. Each year the Democrats fill all the seats but the Republicans and Greens in the city have failed to fill all 56 positions. Anyone interested in becoming more active in local politics is included to run for these positions — including against Democrat incumbents. The election is in August.

Of course, in February we have the Missouri Presidential primary along with many other states. I’m not really pleased with any national candidate at this point although my best hope is on Obama. I’m not saying he has the best chance to win the election, just that I will feel more optimistic if he wins.

In the city we should expect to see work start on the Ballpark Village/Centene HQ, the Gateway Mall Sculpture Park and other high ticket big press items.
Weather you like living in a single family detached dwelling or in a multi-unit building in the heart of the CBD my wish is that we all will have increased options in 2008 and beyond. Mobility is an important part of America but increasingly that mobility is reduced to the private auto. So I hope that going forward we can all recognize the importance in providing a multitude of mobility choices to go about our daily lives. That, in my view, will be the true freedom America promises. Let’s make it happen in 2008.

Thank you for reading UrbanReviewSTL in 2007 and best wishes in the coming year.

– Steve

Can I Borrow Some Vanilla?

So here I am starting on making a couple of pumpkin pies, thinking I had everything I need. Organic canned pumpkin? Check. Ground ginger? Bought it today. Pie shells? Yes, got those at Local Harvest Grocery last week. Tofu? Yes, it takes the place of milk and eggs — except for the honey used to sweeten the pies they are totally vegan. Moving on, Vanilla? Damn, knew I’d forget something!

It is starting to rain and I really don’t feel like running to the store. Nor do I feel like running to my old place where I know that I have some real vanilla (not that vanilla-flavored stuff). Ah, no problem. I call my friends down the hall — I know they’ll have vanilla. In less than five minutes I had called them, used a couple of teaspoons of the wonderful liquid and was back in business. Thanks Jerry & Diane!

The pies are baking and boy the place smells great. Hmmm, reminds me of the smell from the wonderful pumpkin empanadas I get every year from one of those bakeries on Cherokee. I may just have to run out in the morning to grab a few before my friends show up at my place for our annual vegetarian thanksgiving feast.

So, I am thankful to all my friends.  Those that I know and see everyday, those of you who live out of town and those of you who I know only through my website.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Third Anniversary of UrbanReviewSTL.com

Today is the 3rd anniversary of this site. Started on Halloween 2004, it has turned out to be scary for our so-called leaders that cling to our 60-year old zoning code so they get a chance to play auto-centric developer.

When I started I had no plan for where this would go. The beginning was actually due to a tragic event. My father, at then age 75, had a major heart attack on October 1st of 2004. He had blacked out while driving due to the heart attack, two off-duty paramedics saw him drive over a curb and come to a rest — they gave him CPR until an ambulance arrived. Initially he was not expected to survive. I got the call from my brother late on a Friday evening — I was downtown for the gallery tour. Very early the next morning I was driving back to Oklahoma with my black suit — just in case. It is a long drive to Oklahoma City but as you can imagine it was very long that day. My dad is a tough man and he pulled through after several weeks in the hospital. That entire month I was, to put it mildly, a complete basket case.

So it was on that Sunday, Halloween 2004, that I decided to begin writing as a means of gaining some clarity in my life. Rather than write about my personal life, I chose to express my frustration about the urban environment in the St. Louis region. My first post that night was on the Kirkwood Plaza Station project on the old site of the Kirkwood Target.

So much has changed since that first day three years ago. My father is doing well but my mother passed away in June 2006 (see post). A few months after starting the blog I ran for public office, losing two months later (see post). In these three years I’ve done over 1,300 posts and you’ve responded with well over 11,000 comments. I’ve received some good press along the way as well as my share of detractors (Ald Florida called me a “zealot” in St. Louis magazine). At one time I was rather anonymous — able to attend public meetings and be noticed only because of my size, shaved head and tattoos (those things don’t really “blend” in most places). Today, however, seldom is there a meeting where I’m not known.

Being recognized certainly has some benefits but it also has drawbacks, it was certainly never a goal. In fact, I had no goal other than to share my thoughts. Since then I’ve certainly struck a nerve with many equally frustrated by St. Louis’ political structure and auto-centric development patterns. Others are frustrated with all the talk and want to see more action. Many want me to host meetings and gather the troops troupes to fight various battles. First, however, I need to finish my masters in Urban Planning and Real Estate Development at St. Louis University.

This is not to say that I’m closed to the idea of starting something new.

At this point I do have some very tangible goals, my wish list if you will (in no particular order and by no means complete):

• See the complete replacement of our old zoning codes in the city, to be replaced by form-based codes which reflect the community’s vision for neighborhoods and commercial districts. This is a compliment to the city’s 2005 Strategic Land Use Plan that is basically useless without new zoning. Similarly, I’d like to see form-based codes throughout the region with urban nodes where logical (around major transportation hubs, for example).
• See the establishment of a permanent program to establish bike parking along commercial streets. In parking lots for retail properties I’d like to see a bike/scooter/motorcycle parking requirement.
• Break through the leadership vacuum in the city and region, get progressive urbanists into decision making roles.
• See a charter change to eliminate partisan elections within the City of St. Louis. Term limits of 2-3 terms might be a part of this as well.
• See the population of the City of St. Louis reach 500,000 people — an increase of nearly 45% above today’s figure.
• See the return of a frequent localized transit system serving the city and inner-ring suburbs. This would most resemble a return to numerous streetcar lines designed for local users — not a system designed to get the suburbanite to downtown as fast as possible. This would system would include a variety of systems, including bus and light rail.
• See the urbanization of sites such as Loughborough Commons, Gravois Plaza and so many others that are currently acres of asphalt.
• And so much more. Suggestions?

The how and when of the above and others isn’t exactly clear. While I am working on being somewhat more patient I don’t want to become too patient so that I’m willing to wait 20-30 years for these things. Unfortunately I think it may take something drastic to bring about the level of change I think we need. It may well take the fallout from peak oil and global warming to wake up the populous to the need to change our ways. When gas is $6/gallon and coastal cities are wiped out from rising ocean levels then we’ll then see a call for better transit and more pedestrian friendly retail. Hopefully we will not be too far behind the curve.

I had hoped to plan a big splash party for this 3rd anniversary of the blog but I’m really not a flashy party type of person. Besides, those always seem to call for valet parking! So how am I celebrating this milestone moment? Well, I’m on a plane this morning to Miami. I’m also not a beach person but that is where the annual Rail~Volution conference is being held and this year I am a panelist. I think being in Miami Beach on Halloween, staying in a nice hotel along the beach and checking out a new city is celebration enough. I will be blogging from Miami, including some posts from the panel on Thursday afternoon. Sadly the forecast calls for scattered showers all weekend.

Upon my return next week I will be preparing for a panel at the Missouri state American Planning Association conference. That same week I will also be moving into my new place. Yes, I am staying within the city but moving out of Dutchtown and the 25th ward. Where? I will give you a hint — I’ll let you know who the alderwoman is as part of my post next week with all the details — that narrows it down to 10 possible wards. A new location in the city will certainly give me a different perspective as well as new material to write about. I’m sure I can find plenty to write about for at least another three years.

Thanks to all of you for helping make UrbanReviewSTL.com part of the dialog about the future of our city and region!

I Scootered To A Working Farm Yesterday

Few people on small 49cc scooters make it out to rural farm country. While I did visit a farm yesterday, it wasn’t a long trip through the ring of sprawl to reach my destination . My Environmental Planning class at Saint Louis University visited the New Roots Urban Farm on St. Louis’ near north side.

New Roots is located on Hogan Street adjacent to the vacant but stunning St. Liborius church.

You can almost just pass right by — the quarter acre urban farm is very unassuming with the exception of the lively sign.

Rows of basil yet to be picked. Mmmmmm, pesto! Newer homes, set a suburban distance back from the street, complete the block and much of the street to the east.

Above, wire fencing guards the hen house.

Today was a day for members to pick up their weekly veggies. Above, a father and daughter make their way to the pickup area.

Co-founder/Farm & Program Manager Trish Grim was our instructor and guide. In the span of four years this cooperative group has gone from four vacant city lots to a working farm that feeds themselves and 25 shareholders per season. Their annual budget is now up to $50,000. Yes, a mere $50K annually. They have roughly 4 people that work full time as well as numerous volunteers and interns. Clearly they are not in this for the money.

Payments from members of the CSA (Community-Supported Agriculture) make up roughly 25% of the budget, the balance coming from various grants. These members get “10-15 pounds of produce” each week during the growing season. There is a waiting list to be a member. New Roots has teamed with the Old North St. Louis Restoration Group on the North City Farmers’ Market which opened this season on 14th Street across from Crown Candy Kitchen. Saturday is the final day for that market this season — they are ending with a big “Hoe Down” with BBQ, games and music (9am-1pm).

New Roots also teamed up with St. Patrick’s Center and Gateway Greening on the City Seeds project at 22st & Pine. Where you say? The leftover/wasted land at the old 22nd Street interchange. Here the homeless are hired at minimum wage to work 3 days per week on this 2-1/2 acre farm. New Roots provides the expert knowledge on the project and another grant funds the wages for the workers. A couple of years ago I argued with developer Kevin McGowen about this project — I wanted the land to be reused in the future when the excess roadway was removed. I am correct in that in the future it will be hard to take back the land for development but I think Kevin was right — this is really a good project. Produce grown on this urban farm is sold at the North City market and the Tower Grove Farmers’ Market.

One of their goals is to be sustainable — environmentally and fiscally. So far, they are quite environmentally sustainable given their practices which includes transporting goods to the North Side Market via bicycle carts. Fiscally, however, they are not so sustainable yet. Trish referenced groups in other parts of the country —- one getting as much as 70% of their funding from sales of product.

Lest you think this is all some hippie festival, I happen to know at least one self proclaimed Republican that is a member.  In fact, the supporters tend to be more affluent types which allows New Roots to sell their produce at very fair prices to lower income folks at the local market (all are welcomed regardless of income).  To me there is something really neat about seeing our food being grown on a real working farm so close to downtown.

Be sure to check out their website at www.newrootsurbanfarm.org and especially their unique newsletter.