Everybody wanted a piece of Sister Wilhelmina. Not a relic; those days are over. But they wanted to touch her, know her, maybe leave with a CD of the sisters’ music or a copy of the biography that was hastily whipped up. Even people who held religion at arm’s length read the national news stories, hungry for awe. And who does not need a miracle?
Macoupin County, Illinois, which holds Virden and Mt. Olive, has other important labor sites. But Mother Jones’s grave and two-story granite monument on the outskirts of Mt. Olive might be seen to mark a split in the soul of working-class America that is still evident in our nation’s division.
It has been surreal to witness more of our departures from here than our arrivals. Having been among those who left, I returned searching for clarity on the future of St. Louis and still believe in its imminent reinvention.
Greenwood Cemetery welcomes historians just as it welcomes first-grade classes learning about significant people in history. It welcomed Shelley and Raphael Morris in 1999, now leaders of the cemetery, and it welcomed me in the summer of 2023 as I sought to learn more about this burgeoning Saint Louis stronghold.
He had flawless musical timing, comic timing, cultural timing. When he fell out of time, we sped away from him. We still say Satchmo’s name, Ella’s, Sinatra’s, Elvis’s, with reverence. But only a smattering of fans and jazz musicians invoke “Bing Crosby” with similar awe.
There is really an infinite variety of pleasant resorts of all kinds now, and one could quite safely leave it to the man in the ticket-office where one should go, and check one’s baggage accordingly. I think the chances of an agreeable summer would be as good in that way as in making a hard-and-fast choice of a certain place and sticking to it. My own experience is that in these things chance makes a very good choice for one, as it does in most non-moral things.
Dempsey’s website claims “[b]oth artists share a studio” near Chicago’s Loop, but as with so many things, this is a goof. John Dempsey and Billy Tokyo live and work in the same mind. In broad strokes, the difference between the styles of John Dempsey and Billy Tokyo is that Dempsey’s paintings are abstract—arcs and loops given depth by layered media—and Billy Tokyo’s are figurative (“but ‘Pop-py,’” Dempsey insisted) with distorted settings.
Adam, the first collector, got to label every other creature, creating the first taxonomy. Collectors ever since have catalogued their finds, documented their history, identified subtle differences. By the nineteenth century, people saw collections as symbolic worlds, full of clues to other places and other times.
Nature is an inexplicable problem; it exists on a principle of destruction. Every being must be the tireless instrument of death to others, or itself must cease to live, yet nonetheless we celebrate the day of our birth, and we praise God for having entered such a world.
Silences that close us off, refusing connection, shoring up the ego at others’ expense—those are dead silences. But the letting-go sort, the silences that hold space or keep vigil for someone else? They are alive.
