Arch of Steel
September 11th 2001 St. Louis MO
Merging onto South Lindbergh, I look over my shoulder and squeeze my black Altima into a funnel of eastbound traffic, involuntarily switching on the radio to KMOX to hear the box score of last night’s game. With his impressive start since April, I begin to wonder if this rookie named Pujols might overshadow McGwire one day.
Jockeying for position in this gas-guzzling, horse-powered race, I finally find an opening onto the interchange, proudly claiming my space behind a Budweiser 16-wheeler truck as if I had joined a parade with a barrel-chested Clydesdale leading the way, marching along Highway 40 East.
After traveling several more miles, I am almost in a trance now as I pass familiar landmarks that have long since faded out of view as if I were a Cardinal embarking on its routine southern migration in late September.
The radio commentator awakens me from my stupor to announce an interesting development: an unidentified plane has accidentally crashed into the North Tower in New York.
Tragic, I confess, but I am not overly concerned as it seems under control from what I can gather.
I careen around a few more cars while traveling under an increasing number of domineering, bright green signs pointing onward to my downtown destination. I turn the radio to another station to listen to soothing music to compete with the rush and rumble of engines that resemble the roar of caged lions at the nearby Forest Park Zoo.
In the distance, I see the smoky outlines of Saarinen’s catenary miracle, arching upwards to the sky reflecting the morning sunlight.
And, as I begin my final descent into the city maelstrom with my fellow sojourners, we slowly begin to merge . . . not necessarily by individual awareness or intention, but I imagine from the vantage point of migrating birds, we begin to resemble one undivided being with one singular purpose, as unyielding and formidable as an arch of steel.
