Paragraph(s) of the day from A Different Closet
St. Louis always appealed to Lance Dornfeld, staged as it was on the western edge of America’s first step toward world dominance, when black-and-white photographs of smokestacks and factories and a thousand men marching in dark suits, felt hats, and black leather gloves combined to reflect industrial might. He liked that St. Louis still wore it’s red-brick outfit donned a century before. It was similar in that way to other midwestern and northern satellites of New York, like Philadelphia and Pittsburgh, Detroit and Milwaukee, Cleveland and Cincinnati, now poised with their significance in varying degrees of decay but hinged so firmly to the past that nostalgia secured for them present and future roles. When possible, Dornfeld always requested his pilots plan their flights to St. Louis to include a view of the Gateway Arch. On this morning he saw its east side reflect bright sunlight, though someone in the cockpit suggested he might want to bundle up since it was twenty-two degrees at Lambert International.
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