Cape Girardeau History and Photos

March 11, 2016March 11, 2016

Brother Mark Turns 60

Brother Mark turned 60 on March 10. It’s hard to believe. It seems like it was just yesterday that Mother, Son Adam and I snuck up to St. Louis to attend a surprise birthday party for his 50th trip around the sun.

This picture was taken when he and Robin got married September 8, 2014. Dad’s construction company had a whole bunch of padlocks with a key code of 2406, so we used them over the years on family locks in at least four states. Giving a 2406 to Robin meant that she was now, officially, a Steinhoff.

One of my all-time favorites

This shot of Mother and Mark in front of the trailer at Kentucky Lake is one of my favorite pictures of the two of them. Sometimes you’d love to be able to go back and relive a moment.

Mark through the years

I’m not going to use ALL of my Mark pictures for his 60th. He may have a few more birthdays to go, and I need to dole them out. Click on any photo to make it larger, then use your arrow keys to move around.

March 9, 2016

Ray Seyer 1922 – 2016

Wife Lila sent me a text the morning of March 2: “Just found out Ray is in MICU at St. Francis. The family has been called. I’m in tears.”

Ray was Ray Seyer, her uncle, a man who was like a father to her.

The other shoe dropped Sunday night: “Uncle Ray died around 6:30. Marty [her sister] just let me know.”

Formal obituary from the funeral home.

Raymond C. Seyer, 94, of Cape Girardeau, Missouri died Monday, March 7, 2016 at Saint Francis Medical Center. He was born January 13, 1922 in Advance, Missouri to Philip Jacob and Alvina Christina Dohogne Seyer.

He and Rose Mary Hoffman were married February 26, 1946 at St. Mary Church in Cape Girardeau. She preceded him in death October 31, 2015.

Raymond served in the Navy during World War II. He was an auto mechanic and instructor at the Vocational School.

Member of the Knights of Columbus

He was a member of St. Mary Cathedral, Knights of Columbus Council 1111 in which he was a past Grand Knight and Thomas A. Langen Assembly, Fourth Degree in which he was a former Faithful Navigator. He was also a member of American Legion Post 63 and V.F.W. Post 3838.

Survivors include children, Michael (Brenda) Seyer and Dan (Mary) Seyer of Cape Girardeau, Diane (Ray) Staebel of Liberty Hill, Texas, Janette (Stephen) Bennett of Alexandria, Kentucky, Joyce (Dave) Bruenderman of Cape Girardeau, Linda (Bob) Garner of Jackson, Missouri, Ralph (Debbie) Seyer of Kirkland, Washington, and Steve Seyer of Saint Clair, Missouri; brothers, Lawrence (Ida) Seyer and Elmer (Susie) Seyer of Oran, Missouri; sister, Mary Woltering of Breese, Illinois; 27 grandchildren; 42 great-grandchildren.

He was preceded in death by his parents; wife; son, Timothy G. Seyer; brothers, Zeno, Albert, Paul, and Henry Seyer; sisters, Sr. Michaelette Seyer, Syvilla Sobba, and Sr. Mary Agnes Seyer; and grandchild, Wendy Seyer.

Lila remembers Uncle Ray

My Uncle Ray was generous, joyful (and gruff, when necessary) and always welcomed me when I went home to Cape. Last evening, Uncle Ray peacefully closed his eyes for the last time.

I never missed a chance to stop at Ray and Rose Mary’s house when I was in Cape. My first memories of my uncle and aunt were as a 10-year-old child walking home from swimming lessons at Capaha pool. My brother, sister and I would stop in for a drink and a snack before walking the rest of the way home.

In later years, I was welcomed with a hug, a cup of tea ( or a glass wine, if Ray was showing off homemade someone gave him) and any number of good things that might be on the table. Then, he would begin the story of the day. He told good stories… and he laughed when he told them.

Ray and I talked gardens. He told me what kind of fertilizer to use and never to plant tomatoes and bell peppers in the same place. I would send him pictures of my garden, and he would save me green tomatoes and garlic when I came to Cape in the fall.

Ray and Rose Mary were a unit

I always thought of Ray and Rose Mary as a unit… never one or the other. And now, with his passing, they are, again, perfectly paired. I know she was waiting for him with a smile. He closed his eyes for the last time, yesterday and opened them to gentle Rose Mary’s face. They are together for eternity. I am sad and happy at the same time. I will miss them more than anyone could know.

Preserving his stories

I stood for several minutes looking down at Ray at Ford and Sons Funeral Home. My eyes got misty and I had a hard time swallowing.

Something was wrong.

At first, I thought it might be because he was dressed in a suit. Some men aren’t made for suits, even though I had seen Ray clean up nicely.

Then, it dawned on me.

I told a family member, “That’s the longest I’ve ever been in that man’s presence without hearing a good story.”

You could tell when Ray was going to let loose with a good one by the way he’d get this half-grin with his lower lip pooched out just a little bit; then the crinkles would show up in the corners of his eyes. That’s a sign of a man who has laughed well and often. (Click on the photos to make them larger.)

Recording his stories
In 2010, Lila, Mother, Rose Mary and I got together over at Ray’s house south of the old Sunny Hill restaurant so I could videotape some of his stories. He and Mother grew up in the Advance and Tilsit area, so they tag-teamed a lot of tales.

Here are some of the stories and videos that came out of that session.

March 9, 2016

Kaskaskia Cemetery at Night

On the way to drop Curator Jessica off to catch a plane back to Ohio in 2013, we made a side trip to Kaskaskia Island where she had an incredibly emotional response to the cemetery there.

When she came to visit in November of last year, we were late getting out of St. Louis, but we decided to see if the same spirits were moving on the island twice. When we got to the cemetery, the sun had given up for the day, there was a cold rain blowing, and there were signs saying the the graveyard was closed to humans after dark.

We didn’t wander amongst the grave markers this trip. I’m averse to cold rain, and she’s a rule-follower. I made do with just what my headlights could illuminate. Click on the photo to make it larger.

March 6, 2016

Update on Allenville RR Bridge

I’ve photographed the removal of the rails between Gordonville and Delta (one of these days I’ll get around to printing them), but I didn’t know if the flooring and rails were still intact on the bridge spanning the Diversion Channel south of Allenville. Here’s what the bridge looked like in 2013.

The first thing that stood out was the door ripped off the cabinet that I assume contained the electrical equipment for the warning lights where the tracks crossed Hwy N. (Click on the photos to make them larger.)

Trees blocked the way

Walking was easier than the last trip when Friend Shari and I visited. Pulling up the rails and ties provided a nice surface. The roadway was probably TOO nice, so someone felled trees across the way in several spots to keep people from driving down it.

Either that are there are some highly selective square-toothed beavers at work.

Ties pushed off to the side

It’s obvious that steel rails were worth salvaging, but there was no value in the rotted ties that were pushed off to the side to go back to nature.

Riddle of the Spinx

When I encountered the final barrier, I realized that I could no longer leap, scramble and scamper like I once could. Now, better than when I was young, I could interpret The Riddle of the Spinx.

In Greek legend, the Sphinx devoured all travelers who could not answer the riddle it posed: “What is the creature that walks on four legs in the morning, two legs at noon and three in the evening?” The hero Oedipus gave the answer, “Man,” causing the Sphinx’s death.

On the way back, I snagged a branch suitable for a walking stick because, alas, I felt that I had reached Evening.

The bridge

When I finally got to my target, I was glad to see that it was still mostly intact. A few feet of rails at the ends of the structure had been removed, but the bulk of the 1918 bridge was still there.

I’d like to have stuck around longer, but the light and the temperature were both falling rapidly. I didn’t want to try to pick my way through the barriers by feel.