st. louis 
The square beyond compare may be expanding its presence here. All of you from The Lou who just had a mouth-watering Pavlovian response, sorry, we’re not talking about the pizza you’ve loved since long before you went to …  high school did you go to, anyhow? We’re talking about the tech company, Square, which produces the electronics needed to take payments via a square (get it?) credit-card reader attached to a smartphone or tablet. The company already has an office here, and it reportedly is considering a larger footprint. Why not? The Lou is home to the mobile payment company’s cofounders, Jack Dorsey and Jim McKelvey. And there’s even an Ikea store here for them now.

u.city
Some stretch of weather we’ve had here in the metro. That’s true, of course, in all four of our unseasonable seasons. I moved from the eastern U.S. to the StL in fall 1982, the year of the legendary February blizzard that still makes everybody who lived through it clear all the milk, eggs and toilet paper from supermarket shelves at the first sign of a snowflake. Shoppers panicked just a couple weeks ago when a significant snowstorm struck on Thursday, Nov. 15. Who knew? Well, I’d never seen that much snow here that early. Leaves in need of raking or blowing were covered overnight by 4 inches of wet, white glop. (Steve P., a helpful Facebook friend, suggested how to tackle both issues: “Burn the leaves. That will melt the snow.”) School districts flew into full freak-out mode, closing for the day. Anyone who’s had to install tire chains in a mountain pass during a subzero whiteout must have been incredulous. It wasn’t icy, just wet, and light traffic made it as easy as early Sunday to get anywhere fast that morning. Plus, it was beautiful for a few hours before everything became a slushy mess. But not dangerous. Most of y’all in the metro—especially U. City, where the much-ballyhooed Loop Trolley debut was canceled—pulled on woolen face masks, snowsuits, galoshes and mittens to venture out—or shivered inside, terrified. Instead, why not just lighten up? We used to walk to school and back every day, and it was uphill both ways.

the metro
As controversy continues to swirl around Facebook— everybody’s favorite social-media network to love or hate—some wonder whether its sibling, Instagram, is a scam. Well, yes and no. Depends on who’s trying to contact you, and vice versa. Admittedly, I’m a bit of a Luddite, having grown up in the era of three black-and-white network TV stations that all went off the air after everyone was supposed to be in bed. But the Internet is 24/7/365, wall to wall and in full color. Last issue, I went off on the online spooks pretending to be Powerball winner Mavis Wanczyk, who allegedly was giving away $60 million to her first 6,000 followers. Is she is or is she ain’t? No telling. Back in the day, people answered the phone when it rang. You know, Dialing for Dollars could be trying to reach them, and it was urgent: No answer, no money. Now, it’s telemarketers. Thank goodness we’re not getting any more robocalls from President Trump or the Democratic National Committee. But weren’t we talking about Instagram? There are still plenty of fake Mavises out there somewhere, maybe bots. Then all these supermodels started liking my photos. Frankly, being a man of a certain age, I was as much flattered as I was flabbergasted. I let ‘Peace Maker’ know I was taken, and offered to show her NSFW photos and videos to my wife, but Cate was not interested. She said Peace Maker was probably some 300-pound Latvian guy with a hairy back who lives in his mom’s basement. Peace Maker sure was pretty and shapely according to ‘her’ photo. But, eventually, ‘she’ asked if I would buy an iTunes gift card because ‘her’ iPhone needed more gigs and a new debit card hadn’t arrived yet. “No,” I responded. ‘She’ was surprised and offended when I accused her of running a scam. ‘She’ protested—vociferously, in poor English—when I suggested she get better translation software. Haven’t heard from her since I replied, “What part of NO don’t you understand?” accompanied by a red-faced, furious emoticon. Pictures she comprehends, I guess. Yes, I’m a sucker for a pretty face, but not the P.T. Barnum kind of sucker who’s born every minute, just waiting to get fleeced. However, if you’ll excuse me, a damsel in distress in Cleveland, Tennessee, is looking either for Mr. Right or Mr. Right Now …

grand center
Nearly two dozen veterans commit suicide every day. Today, about 20 men and women who put themselves in harm’s way for the rest of us will never be heard from again. We cannot imagine the depths of despair, the alcoholism, drug abuse, the inability to make a living or the confused, broken families. Or the horrors of PTSD. I knew a former Marine who’d served in the South Pacific during World War II. He was an ‘island hopper’ who would find himself, once the smoke had cleared, to be the only man left standing. David Griffin was the finest, sweetest, most thoughtful person you’d ever hope to meet. He rarely talked about the war, but after 9/11, he started having flashbacks. He lived well into his 90s and was married more than 60 years to Mary Ellen, the girl he’d left to go to war. David may have suffered terrifying dreams, or worse, for decades. I never knew about any of this, just second hand recollections of his combat experience from another of his friends. Veterans need to talk. It must take incredible courage, which most of us who have not served cannot possibly imagine. But we must be willing to listen. You’ll have the opportunity Dec. 8 at the annual veterans’ reading in St. Louis Public Radio’s Community Room, 3651 Olive St., sponsored by the Missouri Humanities Council and Southeast Missouri State University Press. The free event starts with refreshments at 1 p.m., and the program follows from 1:30 to 3:30 p.m. (Registration is encouraged. Send an email to lisa@mohumanities.org.) Meanwhile, you can support veterans and their families by listening to their stories, as featured in Proud to Be: Writings by American Warriors, Vol. 7. Check the program schedule at KWMU, 90.7 FM.

notable neighbor: clayton 
Look up the word ‘peripatetic’ and you might find a picture of Susan Sanders Block right next to the definition. She’s been an interior designer since 1980, and her following has been fervent from the beginning, mostly by word of mouth and an ad once in a blue moon. In 1996, she opened her design boutique at 7735 Clayton Road. But a few events conspired to change her direction in the past year. She had a couple of basement floods at the store and an unholy mess of water damage at her home at The Chase. Meanwhile, stores nearby gradually shuttered and the mix became more fragmented. There’s a nail salon where Lake Forest Confectionery stood for decades. A fine sandwich shop opened and closed, then reopened as a gluten-free concern since people with too many glutens swarm the neighborhood. LOL. The Designing Block was starting to wither as a retail location, though Susan’s design clients … and many people who wished they were … made the storefront worthwhile, rewarding, and fun.

Besides, she had a blast promoting metro designers of clothing, accessories and jewelry through her special gift: Organizing events, from providing refreshments to buying and arranging the flowers herself. And sharing the space with entrepreneurs, mostly women. But she and husband Terry have a home in southern California, too, in the desert ‘hinterlands’ near Palm Springs. A few clicks south of there, daughter Julie and husband Gabe, plus Susan’s beloved polo-playing wunderkind grandson Nick, 9, reside in Mexico. Her need to travel was getting more cramped, right when a 39-something should take some time for herself and her family. “There’s never enough time in the week—or the month,” she says.

So, she reinvented herself (again): In the spring, The Designing Block transitioned to an appointment-only model. But on the morning we visited, she had clients there and was wrapping up this or starting that, all the while acting as the perfect hostess. She’s presently serving on only a half-dozen boards, and it’s always more than in name only. “Events? I’m there,” she says. “Calling, designing flowers, having fun. You never know who you’ll meet.” Then, she rolls her eyes at the thought of board members whose faces light up when business turns to financial considerations. Crunching numbers is just not in her skill set. “I might as well be reading The Iliad and The Odyssey,” she says. In the original ancient Greek. Visit designsuzy on Instagram.