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It’s all too easy to overlook a quirky roadside charm when the destination is further ahead and everyone is eager to get there. But a quick prevention in the event of an unforeseen event can not only be interesting, but also an intelligent explanation of why to get out of the way. car and stretch your legs.
Here are a few places where you might stop, and others you’ll be surprised to discover. All are within a few hours of the St. Louis metropolitan area. Louis, if not closer.
West of Defiance, the Katy Trail
What do we do with an organization of three grain silos probably built at the beginning of the 20th century, which are no longer used and are now overgrown with weeds and vines?The answer was undeniable for Karen and Michael Koehneman, the owners of Sunflower Hill Farm coffee and outdoor event center Defiance. Since the silos were along the Katy Trail, why not paint the 50-foot-tall concrete block cones with sunflower artwork that passersby can enjoy?
Kimberly Alsop and Anne Molasky, artists from the St. Louis area. Louis, who delighted in painting giant murals, was commissioned to create the “Oversized Monet”.
After six weeks of work, the sunflowers bloomed and were officially consecrated in October.
The women were delighted with the attention their paintings received while they were in process. “When other people passed by on Katy Trail, they would shout greetings like ‘I love it’ and ‘This makes my day,'” Kimberly recalls. “One user said it ‘makes my day-to-day really special. ‘”
Rest assured, sunflowers won’t wilt during the winter. The silos were primed and then sealed after the art appeared. “They’ll be here long after I’m gone,” Anne says.
Sunflower silos are located along Highway 94 between Defiance and Augusta, Missouri.
Waynesville, Missouri; visitmo. com/things-to-do/frog-rock
If this original huge frog can simply croak, it might be heard from miles away. But alas, it’s just a rock, even if it demonstrates the sense of humor of Waynesville government officials.
In 1996, when the Missouri Department of Transportation widened the historic Highway 66 to 3 lanes, the then-mundane outcrop was embedded in the hillside jutting out above the road. Local tattoo artist Phil Nelson invited you to sculpt it in the shape of a frog. Nine months later, the toad had made the impression and had been painted with the right colors.
What is now a landmark known as the Waynesville Hill Croaker is the mascot of the Hogs and Frog Festival, a chain event held in the fall.
Visitors can climb the hill to take selfies, without worrying about getting caught by a fly.
Saint Robert, Missouri; uranusmissouri. com
If you’ve ever pulled a joke using the call of the planet Uranus, you’ll probably find it repeated on a t-shirt at this roadside attraction. Resembling the main street of an old western town, “shop” doors lead to a variety of quirky attractions on this quirky truck located along Interstate 44 in Pulaski County, two hours southwest of St. John’s. Louis.
Walk through the door of the large general store and be greeted by the candy vendor behind the candy counter who will say “welcome to Uranus. “Step through the door of the Circus Amusement Museum and hostess Katya Kaderva, tattooed with jaguar spots on her arms and face, would possibly be waiting to show you how she swallows a sword. Take a look at the corner of a building on the edge of the “city” and notice the largest belt loop in the world.
Free and paid access to some attractions.
Eureka, Missouri; memorialgrove@wustl. edu
This amulet serves a serious purpose. It was erected in memory of those who supported medical education by participating in the structure donation program sponsored by the University of Washington. Cremated remains are scattered throughout the mini-park, which provides a gathering place for families and friends to reflect and connect with enjoyment. ones.
A trail runs through the landscape, which has been planted to be ecologically resilient and is made up of various local, hot and seasonal plants. The changes from a grassland-like setting near the front to a local wooded area setting toward the rear of the Array.
Marshall, Missouri; jimthewonderdog. org
No matter how glorious your own dog is, it will always fit in with the talents of Jim, a Llewellyn setter owned by Sam VanArsdale of Marshall, Missouri, in the 1930s.
While on a hunt with Jim, Sam discovered that the dog can simply tell a hickory tree, a hickory tree, or a cedar tree. When ordered to locate a stump or can, Jim did so, temporarily and accurately.
Eventually, at Sam’s behest, Jim is able to locate a car by the make, color, license plate, or out-of-state license number. In a crowd, it may simply be “the guy who sells equipment,” the one who “carries cars. “of the sick,” or the “visitor from Kansas City. ” He followed orders given to him in foreign languages, shorthand, and Morse code. He even chose the winner of seven Kentucky Derbies, the World Series of Baseball and the sex of unborn babies.
Jim also addressed before the Missouri Legislature and at the Missouri State Fair in Sedalia as Jim’s fame spread across the United States and beyond.
So it’s no surprise that Marshall erected a bronze statue to Jim that sits in the middle of a mini-park just off the town square, dedicated to the dog’s memory.
Eureka, Missouri; mostateparks. comparkroute-66-state-park
Every year, thousands of people stick to what’s left of the original direction of Historic Route 66 from Chicago to California. Today, their search stops east of Eureka, where the Meramec River Bridge (sometimes called the Times Beach Bridge) began to wear out millions. of travelers who crossed the river in 1932.
Two picnic tables now block the direction of Mother Road, as the historic span had deteriorated so much in 2017 that it was dismantled down to the bridge deck, leaving only the bridge superstructure underneath.
A sign near the tables shows the history of the bridge and discusses its architectural significance, as well as the fact that efforts are underway to raise budget for the recovery of the structure.
While other people sitting at the tables may believe what it was like in the old days, they can also enter the guest center at the adjacent 66 State Park, located in the former Bridgehead Inn. The 1935 truck stop, which once ran along the original Route 66 now features exhibits showcasing the history of the road.
Germantown, Illinois; Enjoyillinois. com/explore/listing/civil-war-fort-1/
Bobby Eversgerd began building his fort on the outskirts of Germantown in 1984 and continues to build to this day. The goal? A reproduction of a Civil War fort. “When I started, there wasn’t anything swampy here yet,” Eversgerd says.
The fort, well-known in Clinton County, is just one detail of Bobby’s determination to preserve history. Visitors can also explore the uncovered cabins within the fort, all of which have been moved to the site, renovated and furnished with Bobby’s private furniture. collection of European and Native American antiques and weapons.
Mount Oliva, Illinois; motherjonesmuseummtolive. org
Mary G. Harris Jones (1837-1930), an Irish-American who became a prominent figure in the American hard-working movement. She helped coordinate the primary movements and became an organizer for the United Mine Workers union and participated in many movements and other organizing efforts. After 1897 she became known as “Mother Jones”, an affectionate call given to her informally through her followers.
After her death and during the Depression, a fundraising effort led miners to build a monument to Mother Jones. Although the country’s miners were penniless, they sometimes made modest donations to build the pink granite monument, flanked by two bronze statues of the miners.
The memorial is located at the Union Miners’ Cemetery in Mount Olive, a small mining town that was once the center of an insurgent organization of miners who helped create the United Mineworkers Union.
Livingston, Illinois; pinkelephantiquemall. com
This colorful 15-foot-tall pink elephant is the proverbial “elephant in the room,” but it sits across the street from an antique shopping mall along Interstate 55 in Livingston, Illinois.
Perhaps she lured him to the site in hopes of licking the gigantic ice cream cone next door, which houses a candy and candy shop inside the cone and underneath a huge permanent scoop of vanilla cream. Even custard is too big for giant statues of a waitress and a guy who looks dressed up and looking for an Illinois beach.
Near the pink elephant, a spaceship appears to have landed to represent the oversized statues, but it’s a future space designed by Finnish architect Matti Suuronen. In the late 1960s and early 1970s, fewer than a hundred examples were built and are now being sought. then through museums and collectors.
The grouping of items is there to attract passersby at the former Livingston High School building, where the Pink Elephant Antique Mall features the wares of more than 50 antique shops.
BILL McCLELLAN
“And the seasons go by in circles. And the painted ponies go up and down. . . “- Joni Mitchell, “The Circle Game”
“Have you seen the winter wheat?” Ross Hemann asked me last Saturday and showed me the box beyond the pumpkin patch in which the young people moved.
“No I said.
Don’t go over the vines, he warned me as he led me past the pumpkins to a plowed field, the furrows of which were probably free of weeds. “Do you see?” asked Ross. I narrowed my eyes. Yes, I saw a wisp of what could be grass. Then several of them. When I stopped being so nearsighted and looked at the rows of churned earth, I saw thousands of tiny shoots heading toward the sun. It’s a miracle that city dwellers rarely see.
Large birds fluttered across the field. Turkey vultures, Ross said. He said the fields attract bald eagles. ” I don’t have to go to Jersey County. I just pick up some debris from the road and put it in the fields,” he said. I couldn’t tell if he was joking.
Longtime readers would likely recommend Ross. I first visited him and his wife, Cindy, in 1993. They were dairy farmers. In fact, when I passed they were milking cows. They owned more than one hundred cows, of which about 60 were milk producers and had to be milked daily. Twice. The cows didn’t make plans for a weekend.
The pigs didn’t recognize Saturdays either. I brought Ross to him through his neighbor and cousin, Ron Hemann. He is a pig farmer and his daughter, Brenda Harris, is a world-famous opera singer.
When she appeared at the St. Louis Opera as the fairy godmother in “Cinderella,” the publicist sent in her biography. After a long list of accomplishments, he had grown up on a hog farm near New Douglas, Illinois.
So I visited his parents, Ron and Shirley, who raised crops in addition to pigs. We’re friends. My kids were young when I took them to the farm and they ate homegrown homemade sausages.
Later there were dinners for causes. Ron was the driving force behind the annual sausage dinner in aid of New Douglas School. Hundreds more people would come, many more than the city’s population. Fortunately, we sat in elementary school classrooms, crammed into small desks, waiting our turn in the gym, where food was served on long tables to eager diners. Residents called the dinner an annual jam.
At one of those dinners, I stayed outside with Ron and the other cooks. They dumped the sausages into vats of boiling lard. OMG, I ate a dozen.
The seasons circled.
The school has closed. Now the children are transported by bus to a giant city. Ron left the pig business and focused on crops, just like the other inhabitants. Pig farms, very gigantic, with their economies of scale, have charged family farms above their prices. The same thing happened with the dairy sector. Family farms couldn’t compete.
I spoke with Cindy Hemann in 2013 after she and Ross sold their cows to a slaughterhouse. They were going to continue only with the crops. More cows. You’ll have to feel a little nostalgic, I mean.
“The word I would use is exaltation,” he said.
That makes sense. Crops are more forgiving than cows or pigs. However, farming is a task in itself. Kids grow up on a farm and say, I’d like to make it a little easier, which is almost anything.
The young adults of the two Hemann families became interested in farm life.
Ron’s farm has been in the circle of relatives since the Civil War. His mother was born on the farm. Their parents and grandparents forged their lives on this land. Ross grew up on the dairy farm, which has been owned by the Hemann family for generations.
Ron, Ross, and Cindy make up the end of the line. Shirley died a few years ago.
Ross and Cindy rent their land to farmers, with the exception of the pumpkin patch.
About 15 years ago, Ron hosted a pumpkin party. A tractor was hauling a trailer from Ron’s farm to Ross’s farm, about a half-mile away.
Unsurprisingly, the pumpkin festival was a success. What kid wouldn’t want to make a stop at the farm and a trailer ride to the pumpkin patch?
I took my grandchildren, but this year they weren’t in town and missed a wonderful day. Beth Brown, one of Ron’s nieces, asked me who was who. It’s about cousins, first cousins and friends of first cousins,” he said. Beth grew up on a nearby farm but now works for the University of Washington. He lives a block from me. We wouldn’t know each other without pumpkin festivals. That’s urban life.
“My center is still on the farm,” he said.
There were sausages (of course) and grilling hot dogs for the kids, as well as all sorts of side dishes that other people had brought.
Now it’s such an important event that Brenda, the opera singer, participates in it. Their travel days are over. He teaches at Stony Brook University in New York. She was a singer as a child, Ron once said. I’m still making a song. Immanuel Lutheran Church in New Douglas was too small to have a choir, but Shirley’s brother had a polka band and invited his young niece to sing. Years later, she would be composing a song all over the world. Who knew?
Ron stood by the fireplace on Saturday, watching the sausages cook. After giving up pigs, he rented most of his land and devoted his time to selling seeds. He has now abandoned this activity.
“I’m back in farming,” he said. I must have looked surprised. ” I’d die if
I stopped working,” he said. I couldn’t tell if he was joking. “Suzy is helping me,” he said.
That would be Suzanne Eiler. She became a widow with two young children in 1993. Her husband had died of cancer. He worked with Ron on the farm. She then worked with him in the seed business. During this time, their children grew up.
She was helping her grandchildren grill s’mores when I approached her. She’s one of those people who radiates competence. ” Ron tells me you’re farming again,” I said. It’s going to have to be tough.
She dismissed the idea. “We’re not out there more than 8 hours a day,” he said. I had the distinct impression that he wasn’t joking.
Of course, on pig farm days, Ron would get up at 4:30 a. m. And I worked at 5:30 p. m. Si the weather was nice, I worked until 8 or 9 p. m. I guess he deserves to take it easy. He is 86 years old.
Farm life. It’s a calling. Bill McClellan bmcclellan@post-dispatch. com
When American POWs were captured during Japanese World War II, they were only allowed to take one item with them.
The Marine Sergeant. Albert Puckett was watching his canteen.
Years later, Puckett credited this cantina with saving his life.
Puckett was captured in Corregidor in 1942. No not only used the gourd as water, which was important in the horrific situations of a prisoner-of-war camp, but also cooked food there. And after the war ended, only the canteen recognized him as an American. “Everything else I owned had rotted.
This canteen and its history can be discovered at the newest museum in the St. Louis area. St. Louis, the Jefferson Barracks POW-MIA Museum, in Jefferson Barracks Park, across from Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery.
The museum’s goal, says President Paul Dillon, is to “put names, faces and in this silhouette of the POW flag. “
The museum opened in September, the culmination of an effort that began with a verbal exchange in 2011 between Missouri AmVets District Commander Joe Grohs and then-U. S. veteran. Rep. Russ Carnahan on the option of building a POW-MIA museum in Missouri.
The National Prisoner of War Museum in Andersonville, Georgia, opened in 1998. But, Dillon says, this is the first to honor those who are not in action, as well as those who are prisoners of war.
Housed in what was originally built in 1896 to serve as accommodation for junior army officers, with a watchtower outside, the museum is still under construction. Lately only the first lot is open. There are plans to open the second ground when the organizers can raise the mandatory funds.
Admission to the museum is free, but donations are welcome. There’s a donation bin on the reception table, beneath a miniature prisoner-of-war camp guard tower.
Even when the ground is opened, there will never be enough area to give a full account of those who were prisoners of war or inactive, Dillon says.
“That’s what’s frustrating, because these are such common stories about such ordinary people,” he says.
“Each of the images here is an exhibition in itself. “
One of the photographs in the museum’s first room, the kitchen of the former officers’ residence, is of Maj. Rhonda Cornum, a flight surgeon with the 229th Attack Helicopter Regiment. While on a project to search for a fallen pilot in the 1991 Gulf War, her helicopter was shot down and she was taken prisoner.
“He had to suffer terrible, harsh treatment” for eight days, Dillon said.
She testified about the reports to Congress, and her testimony and service opened the door to fighting for the role of women, Dillon says.
Cornum retired from the army as a brigadier in 2012.
“It is not with firearms or pistols that you fight an enemy or an adversary. Sometimes, just resisting is the only weapon or option you have,” Dillon says.
The Near Cornum exhibit is dedicated to Air Force Colonel John Clark of Columbia, Missouri, who was taken prisoner by the North Vietnamese army after his RF4 Phantom reconnaissance plane was shot down over the Ho Chi Minh airstrip in 1967.
As he would later write in an e-book about his experiences, a single idea kept him alive during his incarceration: “Reach your reach at the next dawn. “
The museum includes information on combatants from all branches and a wide variety of conflicts. An exhibit pays tribute to F. Carl “Skip” Schumacher of St. Petersburg. Louis, who commanded the USS Pueblo, the ship captured by the North Koreans in 1968, came in third. . The team was detained and tortured for 11 months before being released.
And there’s even a position for two Missourians who were part of the Civil Air Patrol, a non-military auxiliary to what was then the U. S. Air Force. UU. Su plane crashed off the coast of Mississippi in 1943 while conducting an antisubmarine patrol.
First Lieutenant Paul Davis, Civil Air Patrol of St. John’s S. A. , was missing. Louis, and Second Lieutenant Martin Coughlin, of Kansas City.
The oldest theme dates back to World War I. Hugo Schroeder, a first-generation American wounded and caught between the American and German trenches. Born to German parents, he grew up speaking German at home.
An organization of German soldiers, determined to kill any wounded American they encountered, fell upon him. Schroeder spoke to them in German, so they transported German lines to him. His life was saved, although he lost a leg to the injury.
Gary Dixon of Independence, Missouri, recently visited the museum. He enthusiastically praised it and said he enjoyed seeing some of the relics on display: a rusty piece of the USS Arizona, a battleship sunk at Pearl Harbor and the ceremonial of a Japanese petty officer. sword, also from World War II.
“But what happens with this guy here,” he says, pointing to Dillon, “he knows a lot about history. “
With Dillon, the museum is personal. He was an Army specialist toward the end of the Vietnam War, stationed at Fort Benning (now Fort Moore), but his father, the sergeant major. Richmond P. ” Red” Dillon, was a World War II prisoner of war. He was held at Stalag XVII-B, the German prisoner-of-war camp made famous through the Oscar-winning film “Stalag 17. “
Much of the last room of the museum is faithful to Stalag XVIIB and is filled with stories and facts that Dillon may get from his father and the other prisoners in the camp.
The camp was reserved for airmen and they never referred to themselves as prisoners of war, Dillon says. Instead, they used the term “Kriegies,” short for Kriegsgefangen, or “prisoners of war. “
One of the Kriegies managed to smuggle a camera and film into the camp. His photographs are prominently displayed, showing the countryside in detail, adding barbed wire fences and a watchtower, as well as the men involved in their activities.
As the war came to an end and the Allied forces approached, the Germans marched the Americans 450 kilometers to Braunau, Austria, coincidentally the birthplace of Adolf Hitler. Among the most gruesome parts of the museum is the description, made by one of the American prisoners. , of about two hundred Jews taken in the opposite direction to the Mauthausen death camp.
Starving and beaten, many Jews died on their march. The American airman said he saw a frame each 10 or 15 feet.
Dillon spoke to many Kriegies, who held their last assembly in 2019 at the grand opening of the museum building. What they saw on that march was completely new in their minds.
“When you tell them, they say, ‘Now we knew why we were there. Why we were fighting. We knew what evil is. ‘”
The war in Europe was coming to an end. The Germans marched their prisoners west because they were convinced, rightly, that when they were captured, they would be treated better through American infantrymen than through Russians.
Americans come from the west. Eastern Russians.
The march lasted 3 weeks and ended in a pine forest, where they camped. Some Germans disappeared into the forest in the hope of avoiding capture. The rest allowed security to decrease. Some prisoners even went to neighboring farms in search of food.
In the evening they returned to the camp and awaited their release.
Freedom came here in the form of the U. S. Army’s 13th Armored Division. U. S.
An army captain went to the center of their camp, stood on top of his jeep, and freed them saying, “Okay, you son of a bitch, now you’re back in the army. “Daniel Neman • 314-340-8133 dneman @post-despacho. com
Aïcha SULTAN
A verbal exchange on domestic violence took place at a public board meeting in St. John’s. Louis in something that had never happened before in the history of the city.
At a meeting earlier this month, Megan Green, the first female president of the city’s Board of Aldermen, shared her personal experience as an abuse survivor.
It wasn’t anything he had planned to say. But as she listened to advocates communicate about raising awareness about the resources available to those suffering from abuse and the isolation they can feel, she felt her breath run out. She struggled to contain herself. her tears.
“A lot of things came back in that moment,” she said Green. Se felt compelled to explain why she was suffering in order to stay calm.
When she was in her early 20s, Green was in a mentally, sexually, and physically abusive relationship. Her circle of family and friends saw her go from being an outgoing and motivated young woman to a withdrawn and lonely young woman. She became depressed and suicidal and eventually quit her job.
Once she tried to tell her husband she was leaving, but he grabbed her by the neck and pushed her against the kitchen wall.
She said she felt like a failure, deeply ashamed and embarrassed by what was happening to her.
“Part of me can’t believe this is happening,” she said. Green would be gone for a day or two, but his wife would find her way back into her life.
“I’ve become a shell of myself,” she said. Through it all, she mustered up the courage to talk to a counselor, who encouraged her to confide in a friend. Green sat in her car in the parking lot after that consultation and called her most productive friend. She broke down and told him everything.
“I know,” were the first words uttered through her friend. Green lifted a weight off his shoulders.
She eventually received a restraining order against her partner. It took him several more months, but he was able to leave for good.
Councilwoman Pam Boyd also shared a private story. She had married at age 15, partly to escape a difficult situation at home after the death of her mother. She had been living with her husband, also a teenager, for a year before the violence began. She remained there until she was almost 20 years old. She remembers her 3-year-old son picking up his Tonka truck from a fight and throwing it at her husband.
“Don’t hit my mommy anymore,” the baby said. That’s when he had to leave. You didn’t need your child to see this habit as normal.
She put her son’s belongings in a brown paper bag and left her house. She was pregnant with her second child, not knowing where she would go. A cousin of hers saw her walking down the street and took her home. Her circle of relatives were never aware of the abuse she faced at home.
“I felt more embarrassed than anything else,” she said. “It made me feel weak. “
She explained that she continued in the relationship because of the low self-esteem she felt at the time: “You don’t have maximum self-esteem and you think that’s the most productive thing you can get. “
More than 10 million people (1 in 3 women and 1 in four men) have experienced some form of marital violence.
Both Green and Boyd talked about the importance of educating young people about healthy relationships and taking advantage of available resources.
Heidi Suguitan, director of clinical centers and education at Safe Connections, a nonprofit that works to reduce the effect and occurrence of dating violence and sexual assault, said there are many benefits when other people in public office talk about their experiences.
First of all, the rest of us know that we are not alone. It also helps remove the stigma and shame that other people feel when they are trapped in an abusive relationship.
“Shame is a natural byproduct of abuse,” she explained. When it’s taken away from a person, you wonder, “How did I let this happen?”
In addition to educating youth, Safe Connections helps sufferers find safe tactics to get out of difficult situations. Women would likely face barriers in locating and accessing shelter or counseling services. With rents rising, there is a desperate need for more affordable housing and access to jobs that pay decent wages. These measures are essential for domestic and marital violence disorders.
Suguitan said the survivors she works with are convinced that they are somehow to blame for their partner’s abuse. This helps them recognize what they really have under control.
“They are not to blame for the actions, possible choices or emotions of others,” he said.
Once Green and Boyd became aware of this truth in their own lives, they never looked back.
Aisha Sultan• 314-340-8300 @aishas on Twitter asultan@post-dispatch. com
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