For better or worse, the centerpiece of the latter part of my Air Force career was Scott AFB in southern Illinois, near St Louis, Missouri ( 19 miles). I had two lives ( tours) there.  1974 -1977 and 1981-1989.  For you math majors, that’s 11 of my total 30-year career.   Our kids were literally raised there. 
It was the headquarters of the Military Airlift Command and I was a true airlifter with an MBA. Ergo, I helped navigate airlift programs through the complex Air Force, Dept of Defense, Congressional approval process. 
Meanwhile, our family grew and played in many small farm ( corn fields) towns like O’Falllon, Mascoutah, Belleville, or New Baden.  Our oasis was St Louis , where all the elements of a big city resided ( good sports teams. restaurants, shopping, theater, etc ).

Remember. Life is a sitcom and you are the star.  Here are two sitcom episodes. Which are true tributes to the city and people of St Louis in that time period.

Here I am. Driving home from a shopping errand in a not so nice part of the city.  I hear a scraping noise from under my car.  I stop in a safe traffic area and get out of the car to check out the noise.  I look under the car and sho nuf there’s a small tree branch stuck under there.  I remove said branch and start to get back in the car.  Oops. I had left the engine running with my keys in the ignition and managed to lock  the doors accidentally.    So. There I am, standing outside my engine running car trying to figger out what to do. 
Within a few moments I had attracted a crowd. Mostly young men who probably could have obtained a relatively new car and left me bleeding on the ground.  That thought went through my head. But instead of panicking, I asked the stupidest question ever to the growing group of young men. “ Do any of you know how to get into a locked car??” 
Actually, one of them gestured affirmatively and quickly entered his home, which was right there.  In minutes, he came down with what looked like a wire hanger. 
In a few more minutes he was in my car and turned off the ignition.
He handed me the key.  I gave him $10 which he never asked for. I thanked him and his friends and left with a feeling if gratitude and a little shame for my initial thoughts. 

Tribute number 2.   The Poplar Street Bridge.   
The major artery connecting St Louis to Eastern Illinois was the Poplar Street Bridge. As you can guess, traffic was heavy and s breakdown could cause major tie ups and inconvenience. Enter St Louis traffic control. 
Here I am again. On my way home to Scott AFB, when my car dies on the bridge. Don’t remember why.  What I do remember is that within minutes, I saw the flashing light’s of  a truck coming toward me. Yay.   As he gets closer, I hear over speaker, “ Get in your car. Start it and put it in neutral.  Keep your damn foot off the brake. Hold on and steer “.  I obeyed quickly.  I could feel his pushers against the rear of my car.  He pushed me off that damn bridge at about 40 mph with me hangin on and steering for my dear life. 
He got me off the bridge all right.  Right into East St Louis, Illinois.  Not the safest place.   Here’s my next pleasant surprise  Remember there were no cell phones.  He called for a tow for me on his CB and waited with me until they arrived about 20 minutes later.   All was well and I experienced another true tribute to a great city.  THEN.