Life in Chesterfield getting ever more sophisticated; but don't plan on enjoying it on a limited income

My family moved to Chesterfield, Missouri, in the mid-'70s. While it wasn't exactly the country, it was a stretch from the bright lights. Shopping malls, culture, parks, school ... everything was at least half an hour away. We had farm fields, cheap houses and a good highway to get us to the action.

How things have changed. "Society" moved to Chesterfield behind us, and all the trappings followed. What strikes me most these days is that, short of attending a Cardinals' game or seeing the art museum or botanical gardens, there's almost nothing I want to do on a visit that can't be accomplished within the Chesterfield city limits, or slightly west (away from the city).

There's even ethnic diversity. I was delighted to discover Thai Sawadee in Hilltown Village shopping centre, an elegantly decorated restaurant with a diverse menu. No bland concessions to old Midwestern tastes here; we sampled a variety of dishes characterised by distinctive combinations of spices and a tongue-pricking amount of heat. As good as any Thai I've had in the more ethnically diverse neighbourhoods of Chicago or London.

Across the parking lot in the same centre, Gianfabio's is still going strong. This high end Italian place launched in the late '80s and is still delivering the style of southern Italian/American fare that makes up part of St. Louis' soul. Meatball sandwiches and chicken parmagiana graced the table and were so abundant that half came home with us. Just up the road, Charlie Gitto's ... a long-established giant on "the Hill", St. Louis' Italian district ... is refurbishing a defunct Pizzeria Uno and preparing to move in. Even the oldest names, it seems, are heading west.

West of Chesterfield, where it still feels like countryside, is the Missouri River wine region. But even that's going upscale and sophisticated. It's great to see Chandler Hill Winery doing so well. I discovered this place soon after its opening (see 16.8.08), and was delighted to see someone taking the Missouri wine country experience upscale. Almost two years later, the building has settled into the landscape, the vines are bedding down, the landscape has softened and a regular crowd has developed. In addition to selling wine (their house varieties are still made from grapes from other vineyards, until their vines mature), they're obviously doing a bustling business as a restaurant and meeting place, with lots of regularly scheduled private parties.

We joined them for a special, by-reservation-only steak dinner night. The view over the Missouri valley was exquisite and the evening's weather clement, lacking the heavy humidity that so often mars Midwestern summer evenings. Two musicians moved back and forth between a variety of stringed instruments, giving us lots of acoustic favourites while setting a mellow, sophisticated scene. (Note to the Bruneels: I now understand the appeal of Dave Mathews' stuff in a live setting.) The food was a picture of middle-American simplicity. First, a basic salad. Main course, a huge steak with a baked potato on the side. No more vegetables ... you already had a salad, didn't you? Not gourmet by any means, but comforting in its homely simplicity and redolent of childhood with its smokey barbecue flavours. And the wine? A local vidal blanc, crisp and slightly sweet, certainly held its own against the German whites I was drinking in early May.

No doubt about it, west St. Louis county has arrived. The drawback? You'd better have a lot of money to live there. As fashionable people have moved to the area, and the shops and restaurants have followed, the price of everything has gone up. It's getting ever more expensive to live in America, even in a leafy provincial backwater; a fact felt acutely by those on a limited income.

An observation driven home this visit because, you see, I was in St. Louis trying to get a grip on my mother's finances and what benefits and services were available to a woman with no family in town, living on limited means. The answer? Almost nothing. Medicines, transport, nursing care, the occasional helper ... it's all up to you to fund, and even if you're insured you're not fully covered. Medicines have co-pays, home help isn't a justifiable expense. Everything comes with a price tag. From the "bargain" $20 an hour for basic home help to the more than $200 a day for a basic nursing home. (At that price, frankly, wouldn't a nice hotel be an option?) Is there a safety net? Sure. Medicaid will provide some help, and may fund a nursing home, if your total net worth is no more than $1,000. No house, no car, no savings. Basically, that means you have to be destitute.

I am, as I have been since my political awakening, a Reagan-style, small "c" conservative who believes in the merits of as small a government as possible and free market economics. The natural ebb and flow of the market will, in time, right most wrongs. But the fact is, we live in a welfare state. A small one in America, compared for example to Northern Europe, but a welfare state nonetheless, where people pay taxes all their lives in expectation of services. Yet they get to the end of their lives, and the message is clear: you're on your own.

Forget retirement dreams of around-the-world sailing and cozy farmhouses in Tuscany. In America, at least, you'd better be socking away those retirement funds to pay for health care and the spiraling costs of life when it requires more assistance. I returned to the UK much more appreciative of the NHS. The care may be as basic as Chandler Hill's steak and potato, but it doesn't abandon old people to their fate with such callousness. And I returned much more aware that without children to lend a hand in my "golden years", I'd better up those pension contributions. Or the yacht might have to be sacrificed for the nursing home.