LETTERS: A LABOR DAY TO REMEMBER AT TRAIL OF TEARS

To the editor:

This is a story of a Labor Day holiday spent in the Cape Girardeau area which my family and I will never forget. We will remember it because on this weekend we were touched by both the very wise and the very foolish.

It all started when I decided to close my engineering office in St. Louis early on Thursday and extend the Labor Day holiday a bit. We decided to head out for Trail of Tears State Park near Cape Girardeau. We have done so many times before, and, of all the state parks we visited, we liked Trail of Tears best. I had ordered a big juicy cut of pork and some hickory pieces and briquettes. We were all fixed for a great Labor Day barbecue at our favorite state park. But my arrival that afternoon brought some surprises.

After setting up our campsite, the campground host informed me that there were no open fires permitted in the park. I must have had a look of total disbelief, because he soon hurried off only to return minutes later with a handout flyer stating this fact.

We discussed this a bit, and I wondered out loud if barbecuing in a closed kettle grill would be OK. The host mulled this over and then reasoned that this would be allowed. I set out for town to buy a barbecue kettle. This done, the coals were started, the lawn chairs were set out, and the family gathered around for a perfect evening. About halfway through the cooking time, I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see a park ranger approaching. He asked politely, but firmly, that I put out the coals in the barbecue kettle due to the open-fire ban. At first, I was struck speechless by the absurdity of the moment: a Labor Day barbecue ban at the state park. I tried unsuccessfully to reason with him that the closed barbeque kettle was not an open fire.

I comically envisioned the ranger marching around just before dinnertime to every campsite demanding that all barbecue grills be extinguished. What exquisite timing, I thought. But there was nothing comical about it, because after reprimanding the campground host for giving me "false" information, that is exactly what he did. One by one, the barbecue grills were extinguished. The campsites soon began to empty. And the festivity of the evening quickly gave way to a state-imposed quietness.

But I couldn't give up. Our evening would not be ruined, and we would find some way to finish barbecuing our dinner. We cleaned off the grill, loaded it up in the car and set out to find a roadside park. We soon came upon a house along the road with a picnic table in the side yard. I probably would not have done this in St. Louis, but there was something about that house that made me pull into the driveway. A man and woman were on a porch swing enjoying the evening. I explained our plight to them and asked if we could finish barbecuing our dinner in their side yard. They stared in disbelief as I recounted our story. Then they quickly agreed and graciously allowed us to invade their space for awhile. Thanking them profusely, we finished our barbecue, returned to the park by 9 o'clock and finally ate dinner in our camper.

This is the story of our Labor Day in Cape Girardeau we will never forget. We will return to Cape, because everywhere we stopped, we were greeted and welcomed by people of uncommon good nature. In spite of our difficulty at the park, we left inspired with the generosity and giving spirit of those we encountered. A heartfelt cheer and thank you to the warm, friendly and gracious people of Cape Girardeau and especially to the couple who allowed us as total strangers to interrupt their evening on this Labor Day weekend. And an equally heartfelt jeer to the park ranger who chose to run Trail of Tears that evening like a police state instead of a state park.

JOESPH N. DiPIETRI, President

J.N. DiPietri & Co.

St. Louis