[central west end]
Back to the womb. Floating in the Great Salt Lake. Out of this world. These are some of the descriptions ‘floaters’ have used for their experience in one of the float tanks at F.L.O.A.T. St. Louis, a unique spa to rejuvenate mind, body and soul. I know some of you may report having had similar experiences from a case of beer, a canoe and the Meramec River. But this can be found only at 3027 Locust St., a block from City Museum. And it’s popular. In June, my friend Kathy took the first available appointment … for August. (Her sister declined—claustrophobia.) Do you struggle to float on your back? If you’re like most of us, your legs soon go under and you end up treading water. Those with more body fat have less trouble. Here, the water is mixed with magnesium sulfate—Epsom salts—so that floating on your back is effortless. It’s dark. Sound is minimized with earplugs. And the water is kept at 93.5 degrees so you can’t tell where your body ends and the water begins. One option is the Genesis pod, a smallish oval shape with a lid that closes, leaving only you and your thoughts. For Kathy’s sister et al., there’s an option with a side entry door much like your tub at home, the ‘At Peace’ spa. I can’t wait to try this myself. But I’d better make that appointment now if I want to get in sometime before the end of Hillary’s second term.
[chesterfield]
Seventy years ago, Chesterfield Valley was a vast expanse of farmland known as Gumbo Flats, boasting some of the richest bottomland anywhere. And one of the largest farms was Hellwig Bros. But in 1945, many of the Americans who had worked the land were in the Pacific, where World War II raged until Japan’s surrender in August. And they’d begun coming home from Europe, where Germany had been defeated in the spring. Meanwhile, the land had not lain fallow. It was tended to by German and Italian prisoners of war brought here after their capture. One of their barracks was here, long before hotels, outlet malls and other retail or business centers were a gleam in developers’ eyes. The prisoners probably had a better time of it here than they would have in European camps, and security here was getting loosey-goosey as the war came to a close. A Hellwig daughter complained to her dad that her bicycle was rarely where she left it. Turns out a prisoner often borrowed it for a late-night rendezvous with a young lady. And two POWs escaped and got as far as the Meramec River before the highway patrol nabbed them. They were worried that, once repatriated, they’d fall into Russian hands. Available at the Missouri History Museum and elsewhere, The Enemy Among Us is a book rich with such anecdotes drawn from the experiences of the prisoners and the Missourians who interacted with them. There were about 30 such outposts, with more than 400,000 prisoners, throughout our state. A larger camp was at Jefferson Barracks. There were about 100 men at the Hellwig Bros. farm. Maybe your great-grandparents bought a pumpkin from one of them. Or some cantaloupe.
[clayton]
They’re heeere. And they have their beady little eyes focused on Clayton’s 600-some ash trees. Emerald ash borers. Roughly the size of the Lincoln Memorial on the 
[ladue]
A Ladue man lost his cat the week before Fourth of July, and it wasn’t a matter of calling the fire department to get the poor kitty out of a tree. Rex is a serval, one of the smaller African wild cats … but declawed and domesticated, mind you. And he is beautiful. Smaller than the average cheetah, and without a face that looks like it would rather chase you down and bite your hands off than cuddle. Rex was found and returned on the Fourth, so the rascal’s taste of freedom wasn’t too lengthy. If anyone driving in and around Ladue thought they’d been transplanted to Tanzania or, more likely, there’d been an escape from the zoo, they can rest easy now. Rex doesn’t look like a mere tabby, but a long-legged critter with spots like a cheetah. (But reputedly harmless; if you approached him he’d likely run away.) A former keeper at the Portland zoo says the serval can leap 12 feet in the air to snatch a bird in flight. But, in a spin on the trusty old ball of yarn routine, she says they really had fun chasing meatballs in Portland. A serval weighs anywhere from 26 to 40 pounds, depending on gender. Males tend to be heavier. Go figure. Maybe it’s from eating Cheetos while watching re-runs of Marlin Perkins’ Wild Kingdom from a recliner in Ladue. (Pictured, above)
[st. louis]
[maplewood]
If you missed Let Them Eat Art, Maplewood’s awesomely named sort-of tribute to Bastille Day, shame on me. It was last weekend; my bad. (In defense, our last issue was waaay back a while after the earth cooled: July 1.) Anyhow, surely you’ve seen a few of the STL 250 cake sculptures. Well, the event reportedly kicked off with the STL 250 Cakelovers Parade. Sounds quirky, and what is Maplewood if not quirky?