Back in Chi-Town

Hog butcher for the world,
Tool maker, stacker of wheat,
Player with railroads and the nation's freight handler;
Stormy, husky, brawling,
City of big shoulders.

-Carl Sandburg, from "Chicago," 1916

 

Sailboats braving the choppy Lake Michigan waters on a cloudy day

I got to do one of the activities I miss the most in Chicago. No, it's not visiting Mama Pulaski's House of Brats & Ill Repute. It's riding my bike along the lakefront. For those not familiar with Chicago . . . well, first, it's on a lake. A very big, big lake. It's called Lake Michigan and it's the second largest of the five Great Lakes and the only one that is completely in the U.S. (the other four have partial Canadian shores). The word "Michigan" is believed to come from the Ojibwa word mishigami, meaning "great water" and the Great Lakes combined are the largest mass of fresh water on the planet, comprising a little less than a quarter of the earth's fresh water. Along Chicago's Lake Michigan shoreline is the 18-mile long Lakefront Trail, which runs from 71st Street on the Southside up to Hollywood on the Northside, through some of Chicago's best lakefront parks, beaches and attractions: Lincoln Park, Oak Street Beach, Navy Pier, the Chicago River and Grant Park (where Obama first spoke after being elected President). In my previous incarnation as Urban Russ, I used to love biking along this path on the weekends, often leaving my apartment early in the morning and not returning until late in the afternoon or evening, especially if I was meeting friends for brunch, volleyball or some other such shenanigans. Today, Steve and I only got in about 22 miles (11 miles from Montrose Harbor to Grant Park and then back) and it was mostly overcast, but I was in absolute heaven.

All smiles on Navy Pier

Me on Montrose pier . . .

. . . + my bro' . . .

= Good Times.

The (free!) Chicago Jazz Festival was going on in Grant Park, so Steve and I took in some great music. God, I miss the Chicago music scene. I went through several distinct phases of music preference: the Blues Phase in my teens and early twenties, the Jazz Phase in my twenties, the Reggae and African Phase in my thirties and into my early forties. Back in the day, I had a friend who worked at The Bulls jazz club on north Lincoln and I don't think I've ever enjoyed music as much as when that tiny basement joint was packed full and rocking out.

Percussion . . .

. . . Percussion . . .

. . . and more Percussion!

Also a few quick snaps of Buckingham Fountain:

That's it for now. Happy Trails all . . .

Steve riding off into the distance

Back Up in Wisconsin

The urban/country see-saw continues: Chicago > Wisconsin > Chicago > Wisconsin > Chicago . . . guess where? This time we're up here at Karen and Joe's lake house on Lake Okauchee to celebrate Erin's mom's 70th birthday:

Happy Birthday Karen! 

I think I'll simply tell this post in pictures . . .

Captain Joe at the helm of the pontoon boat

Don't mess with the captain

The birthday girl on a fully decked-out pontoon boat (compliments of Audrey, pictured in center)

Erin, Derek and Bella

Marina, Derek and Bella posing on Pete's Poparazzi (behind his speedboat) and . . .

. . . Yours Truly and Derek in the Poparazzi in action

Karen slowly loosening up . . .

. . . and the giggles begin.

Later that night, after Halibut and steak on the grill (thanks Pete!) and many treats from Erin and Audrey, a homemade cake (thanks Marina!) appears from out in the darkness . . .

Erin with her brother Pete

A Full Day Downtown

Loving Chicago is like loving a woman with a broken nose.

-Nelson Algren

Skyscrapers tripping over each other on the way to the lake

Erin and I started out the day in the city with Bella and Derek at the Art Institute of Chicago. We met our good friend Terri and her son, Ryan, there and spent the next five hours oogling over the Institute's magnificent collection. To me, there is almost nothing as thrilling as stepping into a room and being confronted by an iconic work of art, such as Van Gogh's Bedroom in Arles, Toulouse-Lautrec's Night at the Moulin Rouge or Edward Hopper's Nighthawks. It's just not the same thing as seeing these pictures in a picture book. Why is this? It's like the difference between holding a lover in your arms and looking at their picture. Okay, a picture is nice and all, but it's just not the same as sharing the same space together. People who regularly go to theater probably know what I'm trying to say -- there's a feedback loop in theater that doesn't exist in the movies and so it is -- I believe -- with visual art.

Did I mention Grant Wood's American Gothic?

Next, we walked down the crowded city sidewalks to Willis Tower, or the Sears Tower as it is still known to Chicagoans. It was just after 5:00 PM and, as I remember from another lifetime a few decades ago when I worked downtown myself, the buildings flush their daytime inhabitants onto the city streets below all at once and everybody -- practically jogging shoulder to shoulder and toes to heels -- is in a hurry to get somewhere: a bus, a cab, a commuter train, an el train, their car in a garage or to meet a friend at a downtown watering hole. Eventually, the four of us got to the tower:

The Sears Tower is the tallest building in this picture

We went up to the Skydeck at the top of the building (where I took the picture on the top of this post). One of the more interesting features in the Skydeck is the Ledge, which is a glass room that hangs out the side of the building. Here's a picture of the four of us (Erin, Derek, Bella and I) looking down almost a quarter of a mile below us:

The view 1,350 feet down to the streets of Chicago

Derek . . . the bottom part of Bella & Derek . . . and me

Then we met my step-mom, Pam, at her law office a few blocks away. Pam is a very successful attorney downtown and her Power Office is filled with tasteful art, playful memorabilia and even a prayer flag with a handwritten prayer by Thich Naht Hahn from when she met him some years back. We then met Bill at Mastro's, an elegant downtown steakhouse. Pam had promised to treat Derek to the best steak in Chicago and she delivered. The sirloin I had there will haunt my dreams for some time to come (and many thanks Bill for the recommendation of the Lobster Mac-&-Cheese). The entire experience was exceedingly dramatic: shrimp served on a smoking dried-ice platter, steaks served on 400-degree plates (no, that's not a typo), and glasses of wine the size of fishbowls. This, when combined with dim lighting that practically required a flashlight to read the menu and loud Chicago jazz music that amped the conversation up to a near shout, made it a tremendously memorable night for a (now) small town guy. Aw shucks! Unfortunately it was too dark inside to take pictures (and way too cool). We all appreciate the treat, Pam! On our walk back to the car I took a few more pictures:

City lights viewed from the Chicago River just below Trump Tower

Metropolitan Tower

A Quick Chicago Post

It is hopeless for the occasional visitor to try to keep up with Chicago – she outgrows his prophecies faster than he can make them. She is always a novelty; for she is never the Chicago you saw when you passed through the last time.

-Mark Twain "Life On The Mississippi," 1883

Another picture of the Second City skyline

It seems I've been called out by a regular reader of this blog (possibly the only reader, I must concede), who shall remain nameless. He contends that Chicago has some serious competition from San Francisco. I don't want to start a war between the Great Plains and the West Coast -- mostly because I'm now a resident of the later -- but I have to counter that whereas San Francisco has several perfectly adequate medium-sized buildings situated amidst some spectacular natural endowments, Chicago has done a hell of a lot starting, simply enough, with several miles of swamp and prairie grass running into a large lake. The name of the City itself -- Chicago -- is evidence of its unspectacular origins. It is a rough translation of a Native American word meaning "smelly onion" (it's where the satirical newspaper, "The Onion," gets its name). Perhaps it is because of these humble and vertically-challenged beginnings that Chicago was dubbed "The Second City," second to New York in that original phrase and yet  somehow that second rate feeling remains a pervasive one in the ethos of the city to this day. Perhaps this is what pushed it to its overly grandiose excellence.

So let's not squabble John . . . er, I mean, Anonymous. Both cities have a lot going for them: Chicago has the Sears (or Willis) Tower at 1,451 feet, The Trump Tower at 1,389 feet, The Aon Center at 1,136 feet and the John Hancock at 1,127 feet, as well as 17 other buildings between 700 and 900 feet. San Francisco, no slouch itself, has the Transamerica Building at 835 feet, the Millenium Tower at 645 feet and Coit Tower at 210 feet. Anonymous, you've been served!

And now that I've alienated and quite probably lost my only regular blog reader, here's a few pix from the pool at my brother's apartment complex:

My nephew Noah Ka'ulu La'au in the pool . . .

. . . and drying off

Noah and his mom, my sister, Kristen

My bro' Esteban

Enough for now. I must go to sleep and have sweet dreams of Chicago's greatness. . . .

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz . . .

Back in the Windy City

I have struck a city – a real city – and they call it Chicago. . . . I urgently desire never to see it again. It is inhabited by savages.  

-Rudyard Kipling, 1891

A picture I took of downtown Chicago (and tweaked on Instagram)

Damn I love this city! Scrappy, arrogant and overly self-impressed, it's the thuggish, over-achieving younger brother of New York City who never quite feels like he measures up. Laid out like an towering pile of colored blocks cast down by God onto the edge of the prairie, it surprises everyone who sees it for the first time. When it's twenty below zero and the wind is screaming off Lake Michigan or a hundred degrees and ninety percent humidity and sweat is dripping off the tip of your nose, a day here can be like a prison sentence; but on a day like today, when there's light breezes off the lake and the air is crystalline and humidity-free and towering cumulonimbus clouds are providing a convenient backdrop to the skyline, I defy you to name a more spectacular spot in the universe.

The crowds down on Diversey Beach shortly after the end of the air and water show (thanks again to Instagram)

This last Sunday was the second day of the Air and Water Show and we had a front row view of the jets from the twenty-seventh floor at our friend's apartment. I've known Sam and Jill since I was in my late-twenties and, since Sam became the city planner for Boulder, Colorado, they're been dividing time between Chicago and Boulder. They whipped up a fantastic lunch for us and we watched the show from on high, oohing and aahing as the jets buzzed their building (I missed the best shots as they were moving so fast). Afterwards, we walked amongst the throngs that were still milling about the lakefront . . .

Sam, Jill, Erin, Bella and Derek

The view of Lincoln Park, downtown Chicago and Diversey Harbor out Sam of Jill's apartment window

The Blue Angels buzzing the city

The Chicago skyline

More of the Chicago skyline that I can't seem to get enough of (the haze is from the jets)

Derek and Sam strolling along Lake Shore Drive

Sam, me, Erin and Jill on the lakefront

Erin and I strike a pose