Hey There, Delilah!

 Days 13–16: 

On our way out of town, we stopped to tour a steel drum refurbishing plant where George’s younger brother is a production manager. Let me tell you—it felt like stepping into a time capsule of what America was like before OSHA, the EPA, and common sense existed. Fumes filled the air, the machines looked like museum relics (because some of them were literally 100 years old), and apparently just nine days earlier, someone lost both a foot and a hand because he skipped the whole “lockout/tagout” thing. The unofficial policy seems to be: if the workers are illegal, they won’t complain. It’s a sobering reminder that this kind of exploitation is happening right here in our own country—a country that should be better than that.

That night we landed in St. Louis, MO, for the real highlight of our trip: grandbaby Delilah! It only took the first 24 hours to win her over. We soon got our schedule down: 1) morning bike ride, 2) Delilah time with some sightseeing mixed in, 3) “work” while Delilah napped, then shocker, 5) more Delilah time.

      

Maddy played tour guide and took us to Elsah, home of Principia College, a school for Christian Scientists who opt for healing through prayer instead of medicine. Good for them that they have such strong faith, but if I break an ankle on a bike ride, I’m heading to the ER, not a prayer circle. We also ate at Maddy’s favorite local spots, saw her husband’s workplace, and went to Trader Joe’s (that might sound ordinary, but when you don’t have one in your hometown, it’s basically Disneyland).

   

When we were out exploring, we stumbled across the remains of International Shoe. You know, the business from the landmark case International Shoe v. Washington that established when a court could assert jurisdiction over an out-of-state company? If you’re a lawyer, this is thrilling stuff. If you’re not… don’t worry, you’re not missing anything. But you already knew that. 

Speaking of businesses, our daughter Maddy just launched a daycare and already has eyes on building an empire. She’s got more hustle than a Girl Scout staring down a cookie quota. We briefly hung out at the daycare, where one saintly human was wrangling three babies and a toddler. I raised seven kids, and even I thought, nope—this is way harder.

Now, about the biking. My favorite ride was a 30-mile trek to the Gateway Arch—bonus points because it’s also a National Park. Google, however, failed to map our route around St. Louis’s sketchier neighborhoods. Picture biking through a zombie apocalypse scene: once-gorgeous old homes now crumbling and overtaken by vines with no cars or people to be seen. Noone walking a dog. No children waiting at bus stops. Not even a bird. Nothing. Luckily, it was 7:00 a.m., which meant most potential threats were still sleeping off their late night escapades. Bonus: my cycling pace improved dramatically—fear really is the best performance enhancer. Forget death by car. We were more worried about death by homicide. Or pothole. St. Louis roads: 10/10 terrible. 

Once past the homicide district our route took us on the river trail following the Mississippi river to the Gateway Arch. After posing on the "Rocky-esque" stairs, we rode straight through the heart of St. Louis to get back for some more Delilah time. At the end of our ride, Google Maps had the audacity to ask if we “felt safe on this route.” Not only did I not feel safe, I felt like Google's guinea pig. 

Another morning we biked to Forest Park, which is basically Central Park on steroids. Central Park is a measly 843 acres. Forest Park? A beefy 1,326. It has everything: a free zoo, a science center, art and history museums, an amphitheater, a skating rink, tennis courts, a golf course, cricket and rugby fields, a lake with boat rentals, fish hatcheries, and over 30 miles of trails. Oh, and it hosted both the 1904 World’s Fair and the 1904 summer Olympics. At 7:00 a.m., the place was buzzing—clearly, when you get 12 million visitors a year, you have to start early.

So yeah—St. Louis gave us great bike rides, Trader Joes, and a park that makes New York look like it's not even trying. But all of that pales in comparison to what really mattered: time with sweet Delilah, who turned every day into the best part of the trip.

Every story has a soundtrack. There's only one appropriate song for this post!