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The arch lit gold on Wednesday, Oct, 28, 2015. Photo by Cristina M. Fletes, cfletes@post-dispatch.com
Bill McClellan is a columnist for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch.
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I recently witnessed the aftermath of a minor accident in the parking lot of El Potro, a Mexican restaurant on Manchester just east of McCausland Avenue.
That is not an accurate statement. There are no more minor accidents. Cars are so light these days that any kind of impact results in enough damage that entire panels have to be replaced. The days of fender-benders are gone. In fact, fenders have been extinct for a long time.
That’s a good thing. Fenders increase a car’s weight, and extra weight means more fuel consumption, which, of course, exacerbates global warming. Still, I recall fenders fondly.
Bumpers, we used to call them. What a descriptive name.
But no bumpers were involved in the accident at the restaurant. Pieces of plastic were strewn around. Several young men were assessing the damage when I pulled into the lot. The young men were calm. Eventually, they reached an accord. One driver accepted blame. He left and soon returned with cash that he gave to the owner of the other car. I watched the transaction from my table.
It lifted my sprits. It is heartening to see people behave rationally. Why do we need outside authorities for everything? In the playgrounds of my youth, where kids played baseball every day all summer, we made our own calls — safe, out, foul, fair.
Life is more complicated now, and I understand that it is prudent to let insurance adjustors make the calls when there is an accident. But it cheered me to see those young men on the parking lot managing for themselves.
In an uplifted mood, I headed home. As I turned left from McCausland onto Clayton Road — right by the giant Amoco sign — I glanced to my right and saw an astounding sight. In the distance, bathed in the glow of the setting sun, the downtown skyline was golden. The Gateway Arch, also, was gold instead of silver.
It was if I were looking at El Dorado.
I have lived in my house since 1983. I have been at this intersection, usually headed downtown, thousands of times. I have never seen the city glowing like that.
Late the following afternoon, when I next ventured out, the vision remained with me. I was a time-traveler visiting the mythical city of El Dorado. What was life like for the people in the golden city?
I had a partner in my time-travel. I was taking my 7-year-old grandson to a piano lesson.
Perhaps you have heard of his piano teacher, Tom Finger. He was once mentioned on KMOX. One of the talk-show hosts said that her former piano teacher was named Finger. I do not know who the talk-show host was, but I like the way she thinks. Piano. Finger. That’s a quick mind at work.
Finger deserves the recognition. It takes a piano teacher with patience and a sense of fun to engage a 7-year-old who is already convinced that his future lies not in music, but in baseball. Major League Baseball. The MLB, Tino calls it.
After a successful piano lesson, we decided to continue our quest for the region’s best cheeseburger. The rules require that the establishment also serve milk shakes or root beer floats.
“Let’s try McDonald’s,” Tino said.
I am not a decision-maker in this quest. I am a tag-along. We went to the McDonald’s on Hampton Avenue. We were the only customers inside. The woman who took our order was also working the drive-thru window. She was not as old as I am but not that much younger. She looked at us without speaking. Tino ordered a Big Mac and a vanilla shake. I skipped the food and went for a chocolate shake.
She carried our order out to us and sat down at our table. “I brought him fries,” she said to me. “You need fries with a Big Mac.”
She was not addressing me as a customer. This was grandparent to grandparent.
“You’re right,” I said.
She told me her grandbaby had been killed. My hearing is not good, and she spoke quietly, so I missed a lot. She said something about a shooting and foolishness, and I thought she might have been taking about a fatal shooting at this particular McDonald’s earlier this month. One young employee shot and killed a co-worker. Was the victim her grandson?
She shook her head. More foolishness. Different foolishness. What gets into people?
I said that I did not know.
She stood up to return to work. She looked at Tino and then she looked at me.
So they can communicate by mental telepathy in El Dorado. That’s interesting. I answered her in the same way.
“I cherish every moment with him,” I thought.
That’s good, she thought back, and then she returned to the drive-thru window.
McDonald’s does not have the best cheeseburgers in the region, but it just might have the best employee.
Get local news delivered to your inbox!
Bill McClellan is a columnist for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch.
Email notifications are only sent once a day, and only if there are new matching items.
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The arch lit gold on Wednesday, Oct, 28, 2015. Photo by Cristina M. Fletes, cfletes@post-dispatch.com
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