The Perfect Day

St. Louis Missouri is a difficult city to defend. It's reputation precedes it, often depicted on the news as a Gotham-esque hellscape; as if crossing over the Illinois border equates to diving head first into the fiery brushstrokes of a Bosch.

Though highly embellished, the disparagement isn't completely untrue. St. Louis is struggling. The city is plagued by crime, violence, and corruption. Police brutality regularly spills riots out into our streets and the potholes that litter our roads are nearly as deep as the pools of generational poverty most spend their whole lives desperately trying to escape.

There are definitely good aspects of the city; much of which you'd find in any major metropolitan area. It has a rich history, a great level of diversity, a few fantastic museums free to the public; but when you step back and view the larger picture, optimism starts to dissolve like sand through a fist. One city block holds elaborate, historic mansions and the very next is choked with crumbling multi-family complexes that lack basic utilities. The constant whiplash of this reality is exhausting and leads to a quiet sense of defeat; a depressing truth hidden behind the city's inflated, lawless infamy.

After spending 26 years living and working within its limits, I can confirm that St. Louis city isn't some savage beast primed to devour. It's wounded, small and suffering; a bit like an ancient, crusty Maltese that leaves you wondering if the moral decision would be for some higher power to put it out of its misery.

So, you may be wondering; Why on Earth do you still live there? If everything is as bleak as you describe, get out!

And further more; "Why the hell would I spend twenty-four hours in a place like that? It seems dangerous at worst, boring at best."

It's not that I couldn't leave if I tried. I'm lucky enough to be fairly educated. I already lead a very independent lifestyle. I'm even an avid traveler. But not even the breathtaking cliffs of Kauai nor the peaceful highlands of Inverness could permanently tempt me from St. Louis. The reason why I stay so firmly rooted in this city is because of my family and my closest friends. Individuals who deserve to be known and loved as I so deeply know and love them. For these twenty-four hours, we're building an itinerary of people, not places.

8:00am - Family Home

We're starting bright and early at my parent's house. If you're noise sensitive, you might want to bring along some earplugs; there's going to be a lot of babies roaming around this 1,500 square foot ranch home. Inside the house you'll find my mother and my father visited by my older sister, my older brother, and their respective spouses; along with the five rambunctious toddlers they've produced between them.

You're most likely to speak with my brother first. Charlie. Charlie is incredibly vibrant and outgoing. Before he was able to walk on his own, he would recognize neighbors by name, calling out to them from his stroller, many of which my mother had never even spoken to. How he managed to secure a solo introduction at age four remains a mystery to her. Charlie loves to converse and will speedrun through an impressively diverse list of topics to find common ground with new acquaintances. He also loves to make people laugh, often utilizing his newly acquired and endearingly chubby baby to aid in his gags. He's an amazing father. He is unsurpassably patient, loving, and attentive. I have never seen someone so energetically engrossed in the imaginary world of their children before.

The person who is most often laughing at Charlie's jokes is my sister Grace. She is also the next person you are likely to meet. Grace has a natural air of elegance about her. She's very tall and very pretty. The modesty of her dress might be described as plain if worn by anyone else. On her, it simply acts as a foil to amplify her natural beauty. Despite her soft spoken demeanor she is headstrong, capable, and bizarrely funny. She possesses the uncommon ability to effectively balance compassion and accountability when interacting with others and, she too, is a wonderful parent to her three young children.

Regarding all the children; they are most likely flocking around my mother. if you have the chance to fight through the knee-high horde to meet her, you'll be fortunate enough to encounter one of the most gentle, giving women to have walked this planet. My mother is truly a saint. She's warm and welcoming, but most importantly, she deeply understands hardship and how to navigate through it alongside others. My mother's life has been a difficult one. If it didn't discredit her role in the matter, I would describe her resilience as miraculous. She is able to manage adversity in a way that makes her kinder, more patient, more selfless, more eager to help.

As my mother returns to entertaining the babies, you'll move onto the kitchen and find my father avoiding overstimulation as he brews the crowd a pot of fresh coffee. My dad is most comfortable taking a back seat role in family affairs. He is an extremely hard worker; a quiet provider who is fiercely loyal to my mother. My mom often tells a story of the night she spent in the hospital beside the bed of her dying sister. She felt completely hopeless in her grief until she looked up and saw my father unexpectedly walking through the ward's heavy double doors. Against all odds, he had found us a babysitter in the middle of the night; determined to be with her when she needed him most.

11:00am - Park

At this point, my father has handled all the noise he can. It's time to head out from my family home and travel just up the road to pick up my best friend of nineteen years, Theresa. We're going to take a walk in the park across from her house before we meet a mutual friend for lunch. Theresa and I met at a summer camp program when we were six years old. Theresa came in crying and, her mother, desperate to calm her, tapped me on the shoulder and introduced me as her newest friend. That moment may have been one of my luckiest. When I get truly disillusioned with life, the idea that Theresa was put in my path anchors me. She is intelligent, good at everything she touches, and incredibly charming. She's a vehement peacekeeper and I largely owe the preservation of our long-term mutual friendships to her. She's also one of the rare people who ended up working in a job that can sincerely be called her calling. She's an irreplaceable asset to the kids in her speech pathology program; surviving the soul crushing lack of funding on care and passion alone. She's also extremely family oriented and, when she isn't working with kids, she's spending time with her many relatives. She has a beautiful relationship with her cousins. What was once considered an inconvenience to childhood sleepover plans has now become the type of close bond I want my own nieces and nephews to emulate.

12:00pm - Beer Garden

The St. Louis humidity is catching up to us, so we're going to pivot to having lunch at a nearby beer garden. Together, you, Theresa, and I will meet up with another long-term friend. Jessica. Jess, is perhaps, slightly less palatable than anyone I've introduced to you thus far. She's loud, she's brash, she's wholly herself; and she encourages you to follow suit through sheer osmosis of her own confidence. Her energy doesn't stop with her social interactions. She's incredibly hardworking and driven. Jessica set her sights on journalism at age twelve and followed through; breaking into an extremely competitive industry fresh out of college. She loves hard and is often openly jealous in an unusually vulnerable way that leads to flattery over conflict.

2:00pm - Pool

After we finish lunch, we're headed to meet Moriah at her pool. Moriah is the fourth and final missing piece of the group of friends that I affectionately refer to as "the childhood gang". Moriah's life hasn't been easy. Hardship has made her significantly more jaded in adulthood compared to her youth and I often find myself mourning the goofy, genuine kid I grew up with. However, when I step back and see the woman she's grown into in spite of adversity, I'm incredibly proud of her. She endured the complexities of difficult familial relationships at a defining moment in her life and managed to come out the other side better for it. She's organized, disciplined, and still just as quick-witted as she's always been.

5:00pm - Thai Restaurant

As dinner rolls around, it's time to say goodbye to Jessica, Theresa, and Moriah. Now, we're headed to eat dinner at my favorite Thai place before we close out the night rotting on Alli's couch. Alli is the most recent and perhaps the most influential of my closet friends. She's a few years older than me and delivers on the strong, independent nature and confidence of an elder sibling. She's incredibly warm and exceptionally funny. Her laugh is one of her most defining characteristics, right after her giant mane of curly auburn hair. Long overdue, Alli encouraged me to join her in deconstructing from organized religion, guaranteeing that, despite turning my life completely upside down, I never had to do it alone. She's repaired more of my car tires than I can count and she taught me that conflict doesn't have to be intimidating or ignored; that disagreements are a natural part of friendship and don't always end in the dissolution of a relationship.

10:30pm - Home

That brings our night to a close. It's getting late and we have a long drive back home, across the city.

The craziest thing about today's itinerary is that there's so many more people we could have met. Dozens more. I could have introduced you to the sweet old church women who adopted me despite being an obvious, alternative lesbian. Or we could have stopped by my old college and met the professors who encouraged me to continue writing. The list goes on and on. Twenty-four hours won't do. I think, like me, you'll need a lifetime.