Another day in the city brings less tired feet and legs each time the Asics hit the pavement, ironically. As the days tick by more quickly towards the Breast Cancer 3-day event in August, I am constantly trying to make time to train according to the ‘Training Plan’. Seeing the ‘Saturday – 17 miles easy walking’ and ‘Sunday – 13 miles easy walking’ kinda freaked me out a bit, but decided to give it a shot. My goal for the weekend was to just shop less, walk more. Ironically, I was able to do both….shop and put in some serious miles.
Saturday thanks to the newly added express train from Waukegan, I was able to get an early start and arrived in Chicago at 9:45. It was nice for the first half hour or so, but then it was time for the umbrella for about the next hour. I made south trek til about 10th street, then turning around after the rain got heavier. I didn’t want to get caught in the parks if the storms got worse.
Soon, the sky closed up and the sun was glorious. I meandered my way north all the way to North Beach stopping only a couple of times to relax a bit for 10 minute breaks, then my longest stop, for a beer at Castaways. All in all, I was able to find some cute deals when I needed to slow up on my 4mph pace, and walk for 3 hours straight in the afternoon back to the train. In all, I visited North Beach, Millennium & Grant parks including the museum campus to Adler. My tally for Saturday was in the 17-19 mile range (without shopping time). Mission accomplished.
Upon walking, I always people watch as I go, noticing outfits as I pass by. I began taking special notice to ‘the old biddies’. I saw old women in beautiful Chanel suits with their Coach purses, ugly mismatched jean skirts and ruffle shirts, a cute little pair of capris with orange argyle socks and light blue Mr. Rogers shoes, a fancy ‘burberry’ Gramma complete with scarf, bag and matching shoes, Grammas with granddaughters carrying their ‘American Girl’ namesake. Pretty creamy-skinned grammas with immaculate hair in their velvet track suits, and of course the other end of the spectrum of wrinkly old crotchety smelly ladies with BO that could knock down a house even in the 2 seconds it takes to pass them on the street.
To make it fair, I began checking out the men too…you have the fantastic cologne ones that you just get a whiff of them enough to want to turn and run after them in the street tackling them to the ground (that happened several times, less the running and tackling), the ‘porn king’ Grecian God-wanna-be’s whose cologne made you gag and his gelled hair swished and greased his shoulders of his white button up and cheesy too-tight trousers and 27 gold necklaces as he sauntered. But then you have the skaters with crazy tats sans shirts cruising through the people, the college dudes with their ipods and messenger bags and Chuck Taylors stealthing through the crowds, and finally the boyfriends glued to their women as if any second, she would leave him for a passing Grecian God. I’m partial to the business men in their nice trousers, leather shoes, crisp button ups with the nice smiles that actually look you in the eye when you pass as if saying ‘welcome to my city, stay awhile?’ Well, I think I will do just that is what I’d tell them…. Anyone who smiles at you are keepers!
Sunday, the express train wasn’t an option so tied with the fact that I would be leaving early as well, my time was cut by 2 hours. I took it a little easier today and clocked about 14 miles of good steady pavement hitting. This day, though I followed the Lake Shore Drive path all the way along the marina front and down the Chicago Riverfront back to Michigan. The second I entered the darkened path headed back west, the little leaf Lindens were so fragrant, I never wanted to leave this sweet heavenly path. I actually needed the umbrella when I got to that path and the rain coming down made the smell that much sweeter. Luckily the showers didn’t last more than 10 minutes or so a few times that day. Kept it cool.
By the end of the 2 days, I had walked approximately 34 miles depending on the mph I was using. I averaged my numbers to the low end of my pace to not get my hopes up for having walked over the recommended amount.
The next weekend I’m able to go and walk won’t be for a few weeks, so I’ll be sure to make them good ones……relaxing ones!
Showing posts with label chicago. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chicago. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Benches for our butts.....
This is a repost from last late spring while training for the Breast Cancer 3-day in August......
As I’ve been spending more and more time in the city lately because I’ve been training for the 3-day, my brain seems to kick into ADHD mode and as I walk, I begin to have weird thoughts race through my mind to pass the time. A great song on an ipod apparently isn’t always enough to keep me occupied.
I was on the southern end of my loop near the Field museum a few weeks ago and as I got to about the 3 mile mark, I began to notice my body’s way of telling me that I’m not 24 anymore. Knees clicking, gentle soreness in my hips, etc. I sat down on a bench to rest and gather myself again and hopped back on the path. My next leg I got to one of the many parks and began to notice how many different types of places to put my tired butt in this city. I started craning my neck as I walked to see how many I could count. It didn’t occur to me to actually take a picture of each one until I was half way done with my day, but have counted well over 20 different types of places to sit besides the ground just on my 13 mile jaunt.
Here are a few…….metal, stone, marbel, concrete, wood, wrought iron. Circular, steps, flat, angled, slabbed, curved. This city is amazing to me. I wonder if each park has its own contract for outdoor furniture. Each must have their own because each park or ‘rest area’ is different by way of seating.
I guess if you’re tired enough, you’ll sleep anywhere, even on the cold stone, or on the damp ground. I agree with the guy on the sun basking on the grass, as I have my own fave spot.
Of course, sometimes, the ground is the best place. This is where I am partial to. My ‘spot’ is at Millennium park between the gardens in between the bean and the fountains on the ramp. The side bank is angled and is great for lying flat but gives you the ability to still see everything going on, and it’s shaded during the day if you pick the right angle.
So, there it is…..a tiny little part of trivia for the butts of the world. How many benches ARE there in the city? I guess until I count them all, I’ll just have to keep visiting!
Part 2…..the north….
As I’ve been spending more and more time in the city lately because I’ve been training for the 3-day, my brain seems to kick into ADHD mode and as I walk, I begin to have weird thoughts race through my mind to pass the time. A great song on an ipod apparently isn’t always enough to keep me occupied.
I was on the southern end of my loop near the Field museum a few weeks ago and as I got to about the 3 mile mark, I began to notice my body’s way of telling me that I’m not 24 anymore. Knees clicking, gentle soreness in my hips, etc. I sat down on a bench to rest and gather myself again and hopped back on the path. My next leg I got to one of the many parks and began to notice how many different types of places to put my tired butt in this city. I started craning my neck as I walked to see how many I could count. It didn’t occur to me to actually take a picture of each one until I was half way done with my day, but have counted well over 20 different types of places to sit besides the ground just on my 13 mile jaunt.
Here are a few…….metal, stone, marbel, concrete, wood, wrought iron. Circular, steps, flat, angled, slabbed, curved. This city is amazing to me. I wonder if each park has its own contract for outdoor furniture. Each must have their own because each park or ‘rest area’ is different by way of seating.
I guess if you’re tired enough, you’ll sleep anywhere, even on the cold stone, or on the damp ground. I agree with the guy on the sun basking on the grass, as I have my own fave spot.
Of course, sometimes, the ground is the best place. This is where I am partial to. My ‘spot’ is at Millennium park between the gardens in between the bean and the fountains on the ramp. The side bank is angled and is great for lying flat but gives you the ability to still see everything going on, and it’s shaded during the day if you pick the right angle.
So, there it is…..a tiny little part of trivia for the butts of the world. How many benches ARE there in the city? I guess until I count them all, I’ll just have to keep visiting!
Part 2…..the north….
Training for the 3 - day, June 2008
This was a repost from my Myspace last spring....
Spring, errrr…..Summer, has finally arrived (as I write this it is 89 stinkin degrees outside and has the wind to match) and I’ve been enjoying myself in the city as much as possible. Yes, my city, Chicago.
I have made the trip in via Metra the last 2 weekends to continue my Breast Cancer 3-day walk training and between the two days one week apart, have racked up about 28 miles of pavement pounding that reaches as far south as Roosevelt and all the way north to the beach and many routes in between. My miles spanned across about 7 hours, so the 13 miles didn’t really feel that bad.
I was fortunate enough this trip around to actually see the planters complete with blooming tulips. This was the first time I was so privileged. Here are some of the shots.
I had packed in some shopping as well as a rest at the North Beach Castaways for a siesta and a 16 ouncer. The first day I went, it was a cool 50 degrees or so and because it was the first day the beach was open, there more people playing volleyball in their new bikinis and board shorts than I thought should be out so naked in that cold.
I was even able to be obliged by the Buckingham fountain to see her spouting all of her glory….another first for me surprisingly.
The path from the south side to the north was beautiful and I marvel at how well the city treats its pedestrians. They have several, not just one, paths following any general direction at any given time. If you want to walk through the rose garden, the city obliges. If you want to walk next to the roadway, again obliging. If you want to be more solitude, they accommodate those as well with this beautiful tree-lined path. Despite the amount of people that use the path, it feels as if you’re the only one because of the trees.
The lake view from Adler Planetarian on my southern part of my trip was stellar, as usual. The last time I was there though was a 60 degree day in February last year when I wanted to take some ice shots of the lake and the skyline. Sadly, it had already melted. Global warming is scary. The skyline is just as beautiful.
And another…..
Upon walking back on MI avenue, I happened to bottleneck near the Tribune building and noticed for the first time the stones embedded in the side of the bricks denoting all the famous pieces of stone and materials taken from famous buildings and landmarks from all around the world. Here are some of them. Amazing huh? I still am in awe at the new things I learn with each visit.
I wonder though….who was supplying us with these pieces of these buildings and wonder now how structurally sound they are after said bricks were removed and put into our building.
This fine building was constructed in 1925, so says the brick.
Edinburgh Castle
Westminster Abbey
The Taj Majal – WOW!
A piece of the Massachusettes building at Harvard University & a piece from a building in Switzerland. Hey, how famous could it be? I’ve never even heard of it.
Luther’s Warburg in Germany – HUH?
And finally, the Great Wall of China. Very cool.
I am amazed every day I visit, but vow that next visit, that it’s just me, my book, my ipod and a towel for a casual dip into the lake up at North Beach. Gosh, who could ask for more?
Spring, errrr…..Summer, has finally arrived (as I write this it is 89 stinkin degrees outside and has the wind to match) and I’ve been enjoying myself in the city as much as possible. Yes, my city, Chicago.
I have made the trip in via Metra the last 2 weekends to continue my Breast Cancer 3-day walk training and between the two days one week apart, have racked up about 28 miles of pavement pounding that reaches as far south as Roosevelt and all the way north to the beach and many routes in between. My miles spanned across about 7 hours, so the 13 miles didn’t really feel that bad.
I was fortunate enough this trip around to actually see the planters complete with blooming tulips. This was the first time I was so privileged. Here are some of the shots.
I had packed in some shopping as well as a rest at the North Beach Castaways for a siesta and a 16 ouncer. The first day I went, it was a cool 50 degrees or so and because it was the first day the beach was open, there more people playing volleyball in their new bikinis and board shorts than I thought should be out so naked in that cold.
I was even able to be obliged by the Buckingham fountain to see her spouting all of her glory….another first for me surprisingly.
The path from the south side to the north was beautiful and I marvel at how well the city treats its pedestrians. They have several, not just one, paths following any general direction at any given time. If you want to walk through the rose garden, the city obliges. If you want to walk next to the roadway, again obliging. If you want to be more solitude, they accommodate those as well with this beautiful tree-lined path. Despite the amount of people that use the path, it feels as if you’re the only one because of the trees.
The lake view from Adler Planetarian on my southern part of my trip was stellar, as usual. The last time I was there though was a 60 degree day in February last year when I wanted to take some ice shots of the lake and the skyline. Sadly, it had already melted. Global warming is scary. The skyline is just as beautiful.
And another…..
Upon walking back on MI avenue, I happened to bottleneck near the Tribune building and noticed for the first time the stones embedded in the side of the bricks denoting all the famous pieces of stone and materials taken from famous buildings and landmarks from all around the world. Here are some of them. Amazing huh? I still am in awe at the new things I learn with each visit.
I wonder though….who was supplying us with these pieces of these buildings and wonder now how structurally sound they are after said bricks were removed and put into our building.
This fine building was constructed in 1925, so says the brick.
Edinburgh Castle
Westminster Abbey
The Taj Majal – WOW!
A piece of the Massachusettes building at Harvard University & a piece from a building in Switzerland. Hey, how famous could it be? I’ve never even heard of it.
Luther’s Warburg in Germany – HUH?
And finally, the Great Wall of China. Very cool.
I am amazed every day I visit, but vow that next visit, that it’s just me, my book, my ipod and a towel for a casual dip into the lake up at North Beach. Gosh, who could ask for more?
2 days of Chicago Bliss....Spring 2008
This is a repost from a warm spring day in early 2008....
SPRING WEEKEND – 2 days of Chicago bliss.
The weatherman said it 3 days IN A ROW and I was a believer. 61 I packed myself a little day bag, threw on my Breast Cancer 3-day training shirt and my Nikes and headed to the Waukegan station.
I had had it planned for a week or so….a weekend (with a trip home in between) in the city. What could be better? I had goals. To put a substantial dent in my training, have an ice cream cone, catch a nap in Millennium Park, finish my book, get a great summer skirt or two, get a few great pics, and have a beer on the train home.
Here’s what I accomplished. The train ride in was great – crowded, but great. The Great Lakes stop is always a challenge and it wasn’t any different this day – in fact, because this was the first truly nice day of the spring, the station was more packed than I had seen it in ages. Throngs of sailors, families, more sailors I had no problem sharing the seat to my right.
The gentleman who sat down was slightly different from the masses. After some quips back and forth between him and his posse who had filled in around me, we were all exchanging our ideas about the city. I had given him suggestions of things to do with his buds. Ed Debevics, skip the Sears and hit the Hancock tower instead (different views from each side). So, they can hit Hooters in the lunch hour, and Eds at night.
I had learned he was 31 and had just enlisted in January for his first tour. He graduates from boot camp next week and is here at this base until Dec. I asked him, “Why now?” He said he was a service brat and it’s always something he wanted to do and would probably re-enlist after he got done with this 6 year term unlike his comrades that probably wanted to explore life on the outside for a while. He had already done that. He had been playing golf since the age of 5 and eventually became a golf pro participating in the Nike tour and then didn’t quite make it to the PGA tour as a player, falling short by 7 spots, but went on to be a PGA tour coordinator instead, then an instructor. We shared stories of our lives and laughed a lot. It was a nice trip on the train. Probably one of the more enjoyable 1 hr and 20 minutes I’ve had. At the end of our conversation, we finally introduced ourselves. His name was Jude. Funny, other than the actor, hadn’t met a man named Jude before. I hope his day was as fun as mine.
After a fantastic fresh quesadilla from the bell, I made my way down to MI via Madison, stopping to take the obligatory pic of my fave building. State was calling and I was able to find a few cute summer clothes in some of the many chain stores. Somehow the selection in Chicago is always better. Goal completed. I also discovered the lost Baskin Robbins on Garland & Washington that I always seem to forget about. I waited on the cone though….but shouldn’t have because I never got back there. Goal failed.
Upon heading north, there was a commotion at one of the corners by the Apple Store. There was a step-van giving out dozens and dozens of ice cold coca-cola bottles to passersby. What a treat! I hung outside on the street for a while (as many were also doing) to finish my refreshment before my obligatory visit to the Apple Store.
Here are a few pics from my walk up Michigan. I call these two ‘The Mosaic’ and ‘Alphabet Soup’. The reflections were beautiful and the second just looked like letters. It had to be captured. The signature concrete cauldrons on the sidewalks were just sprouting with the tulips that would sure to be in bloom on a weekend I couldn’t make it in to admire them. It always happens. I miss the ‘window’ between the planters looking glorious and them ending tired. A metaphor perhaps. My allergy eyes confirmed my belief that spring has indeed, sprung.
The Mosaic….
Alphabet Soup….
I continued to be the walkerazzi I am, clocking nearly 5 miles before even realizing it. Shopping helps break up the hits on the pavement. As I walk, I think of the inevitable blog inside me, making mental notes of things I’ve seen.
I made my way back to the Park and on the way, I got serenaded to ‘When the Saints go Marching in’ by one of the many toothless old street singers. In perfect Randy-speak, I should’ve said ‘Dawg, that was awfully pitchy all over the place”, but didn’t. I made my rounds through the maze at the park and sat for a while to people watch, Sunday I stopped for about an hour and read my book, finishing it. Goal completed. Then, as I calculated the time I had left before making the journey back to Ogilvie, I made my final stop at the ramp between the Bean and the Fountains and selected my spot of terra firma and jotted down some notes for my blog and proceeded to take the afternoon nap I had been thinking about all weekend. Many others regaled in my same thought.
A little girl and her dad out for a day. A couple in their own paradise they call the park bench, several people doing business via phones, people being comforted, and many people sleeping the day away.
At 3:20, the vibrations started. I could feel it from the tip top of my clavicle down to the bottom of my tailbone. The El. I found it funny that I had never felt it through my Nikes (even upon being near) like I did feeling the roar of it through the earth I was lying on that day. I felt truly connected to the city at that moment. The song playing on my ipod was ‘This Day’ by Micah Dalton. How perfect. Goal completed.
The El….
The clock read 3:45 and that meant that I had to start making my way back to the station in order to make the sparse Sunday train schedule. I could tell it was Sunday and thus the end to my wonderful weekend. My walk back was stopped several times to cop a squat in the sun at the Chase Plaza (which I call the ‘Stairway Jungle’ and is packed with financial hotties during the lunch hours on weekdays) to soak up as much heat as I could before delving back into the cold shade of the skyscrapers. An omen. Back to the Metra. Back to reality.
The Stairway Jungle….
I make my train and begin to reflect on the weekend. I had started with 7 goals, and have completed 5 of them. No ice cream, and unfortunately no beer on the way home. Another day I guess. I was able to walk nearly 10 miles this weekend, got some great pics of some new things, purchased some great summer clothes, was serenaded a song, had my nap, started my book on the Sunday trip in and finished it in the park. Although I didn’t get the cone or the beer, I made up for it at home and had my beer on Saturday night and fulfilled my need for some naïve-girl porn in the form of Matt Damon kicking ass as Jason Bourne on screen in a tight black Tshirt.
There’s something tingly about a sailor not much younger than I am saying “Ma’am, it sure was a pleasure. Enjoy your taco bell” in that fine southern Navy drawl as he tipped his hand to his cap to me as we exited. Gentlemen do exist, and apparently, so do nearly perfect weekends.
SPRING WEEKEND – 2 days of Chicago bliss.
The weatherman said it 3 days IN A ROW and I was a believer. 61 I packed myself a little day bag, threw on my Breast Cancer 3-day training shirt and my Nikes and headed to the Waukegan station.
I had had it planned for a week or so….a weekend (with a trip home in between) in the city. What could be better? I had goals. To put a substantial dent in my training, have an ice cream cone, catch a nap in Millennium Park, finish my book, get a great summer skirt or two, get a few great pics, and have a beer on the train home.
Here’s what I accomplished. The train ride in was great – crowded, but great. The Great Lakes stop is always a challenge and it wasn’t any different this day – in fact, because this was the first truly nice day of the spring, the station was more packed than I had seen it in ages. Throngs of sailors, families, more sailors I had no problem sharing the seat to my right.
The gentleman who sat down was slightly different from the masses. After some quips back and forth between him and his posse who had filled in around me, we were all exchanging our ideas about the city. I had given him suggestions of things to do with his buds. Ed Debevics, skip the Sears and hit the Hancock tower instead (different views from each side). So, they can hit Hooters in the lunch hour, and Eds at night.
I had learned he was 31 and had just enlisted in January for his first tour. He graduates from boot camp next week and is here at this base until Dec. I asked him, “Why now?” He said he was a service brat and it’s always something he wanted to do and would probably re-enlist after he got done with this 6 year term unlike his comrades that probably wanted to explore life on the outside for a while. He had already done that. He had been playing golf since the age of 5 and eventually became a golf pro participating in the Nike tour and then didn’t quite make it to the PGA tour as a player, falling short by 7 spots, but went on to be a PGA tour coordinator instead, then an instructor. We shared stories of our lives and laughed a lot. It was a nice trip on the train. Probably one of the more enjoyable 1 hr and 20 minutes I’ve had. At the end of our conversation, we finally introduced ourselves. His name was Jude. Funny, other than the actor, hadn’t met a man named Jude before. I hope his day was as fun as mine.
After a fantastic fresh quesadilla from the bell, I made my way down to MI via Madison, stopping to take the obligatory pic of my fave building. State was calling and I was able to find a few cute summer clothes in some of the many chain stores. Somehow the selection in Chicago is always better. Goal completed. I also discovered the lost Baskin Robbins on Garland & Washington that I always seem to forget about. I waited on the cone though….but shouldn’t have because I never got back there. Goal failed.
Upon heading north, there was a commotion at one of the corners by the Apple Store. There was a step-van giving out dozens and dozens of ice cold coca-cola bottles to passersby. What a treat! I hung outside on the street for a while (as many were also doing) to finish my refreshment before my obligatory visit to the Apple Store.
Here are a few pics from my walk up Michigan. I call these two ‘The Mosaic’ and ‘Alphabet Soup’. The reflections were beautiful and the second just looked like letters. It had to be captured. The signature concrete cauldrons on the sidewalks were just sprouting with the tulips that would sure to be in bloom on a weekend I couldn’t make it in to admire them. It always happens. I miss the ‘window’ between the planters looking glorious and them ending tired. A metaphor perhaps. My allergy eyes confirmed my belief that spring has indeed, sprung.
The Mosaic….
Alphabet Soup….
I continued to be the walkerazzi I am, clocking nearly 5 miles before even realizing it. Shopping helps break up the hits on the pavement. As I walk, I think of the inevitable blog inside me, making mental notes of things I’ve seen.
I made my way back to the Park and on the way, I got serenaded to ‘When the Saints go Marching in’ by one of the many toothless old street singers. In perfect Randy-speak, I should’ve said ‘Dawg, that was awfully pitchy all over the place”, but didn’t. I made my rounds through the maze at the park and sat for a while to people watch, Sunday I stopped for about an hour and read my book, finishing it. Goal completed. Then, as I calculated the time I had left before making the journey back to Ogilvie, I made my final stop at the ramp between the Bean and the Fountains and selected my spot of terra firma and jotted down some notes for my blog and proceeded to take the afternoon nap I had been thinking about all weekend. Many others regaled in my same thought.
A little girl and her dad out for a day. A couple in their own paradise they call the park bench, several people doing business via phones, people being comforted, and many people sleeping the day away.
At 3:20, the vibrations started. I could feel it from the tip top of my clavicle down to the bottom of my tailbone. The El. I found it funny that I had never felt it through my Nikes (even upon being near) like I did feeling the roar of it through the earth I was lying on that day. I felt truly connected to the city at that moment. The song playing on my ipod was ‘This Day’ by Micah Dalton. How perfect. Goal completed.
The El….
The clock read 3:45 and that meant that I had to start making my way back to the station in order to make the sparse Sunday train schedule. I could tell it was Sunday and thus the end to my wonderful weekend. My walk back was stopped several times to cop a squat in the sun at the Chase Plaza (which I call the ‘Stairway Jungle’ and is packed with financial hotties during the lunch hours on weekdays) to soak up as much heat as I could before delving back into the cold shade of the skyscrapers. An omen. Back to the Metra. Back to reality.
The Stairway Jungle….
I make my train and begin to reflect on the weekend. I had started with 7 goals, and have completed 5 of them. No ice cream, and unfortunately no beer on the way home. Another day I guess. I was able to walk nearly 10 miles this weekend, got some great pics of some new things, purchased some great summer clothes, was serenaded a song, had my nap, started my book on the Sunday trip in and finished it in the park. Although I didn’t get the cone or the beer, I made up for it at home and had my beer on Saturday night and fulfilled my need for some naïve-girl porn in the form of Matt Damon kicking ass as Jason Bourne on screen in a tight black Tshirt.
There’s something tingly about a sailor not much younger than I am saying “Ma’am, it sure was a pleasure. Enjoy your taco bell” in that fine southern Navy drawl as he tipped his hand to his cap to me as we exited. Gentlemen do exist, and apparently, so do nearly perfect weekends.
My kind of town....Chi-Ca-Go
My kind of town….Chi-Ca-Go
I’ve been meaning to write this for a long, long time, and always stopped because I couldn’t find the right words to say what I was trying to convey to the average layperson. Nothing I wrote sounded right, or expressed the feelings I wanted. I knew how I FELT, just couldn’t quite explain it.
Anyone who knows me, knows that when I say ‘the city’, I’m talking about Chicago. I have so much I want to say, so forgive me if this comes out jumbled and just, well….wrong. I won’t pretend to know everything about the city I love so much, exactly the opposite. I write what I know, occasionally bullshitting with the best of them, but never EVER will pretend to know first-hand what it’s like to be an actual Chicagoan. I should be so lucky. I’m just a suburban middle-class housewife who longs with her whole being to live in the greatest city in the world.
My earliest experiences with the city came back when I was a little pintsized firecracker of about 9 or 10 when I would get the privilege to go to work with my dad (my stepdad, but my daddy since I was 5). He was born in 1927 in the city and grew up in the depression. He would tell me stories, many of which I’m blank to right now and make a mental note to take down some of the information more tediously, as I’m sure others would love to hear them. My Grandma Kunkel was a short little round polish woman, squishy to the touch and impossible to get my arms around. She and my dad both used to teach us polish phrases and sentences and unfortunately for those who knew polish, they weren’t of the clean variety. “Smells like shit” was one of the prized jewels that my 3 year old sister was taught and variations of the like. When one learned a particular phrase, you only need know additional verbs to ‘insert here’…..
My dad lived in the city for most of his early life and transplanted in his 30s to the north burbs of Pistakee Highlands in McHenry/Lake County. He built several homes, raised kids, married and divorced, twice…..but remained a true Chicagoan through and through. He worked downtown and amidst the suburbs every day delivering heating oil via truck, then later only in the winter, started his own paving company, then sold it and began working for Troch McNeil Paving Co. in Elk Grove Village until he retired in 1990. One of my fondest memories is always the smell of fresh asphalt for it brought me back to dad and our days on the truck in the summer together. I was with him when he paved Rosemont Horizon with his company. I would watch him go back and forth while laying on the stairway and learning the plans overhead, then hopping in to make another run to the plant to get more asphalt.
So, I would say my experiences really began when I was about 10, but really got to see the culture OUTSIDE of the truck at about 13. That was my first trip to Eds. Ed Debevics for the non-natives. The only place in the city where they welcome you to be rude, although at the time, I didn’t know that to be the case, but it didn’t bother me either way. It was jus neat to be there with the dancing, and the shiny barstools, and the crazy costumes.
Unfortunately for the next 20 years, I really didn’t get down to the city so much, so how wonderful it was that upon my 2nd marriage, my husband and I started to partake in the city more often, he having been there many times visiting with old friends from the Quad Cities to those large corporate bars, and I’m sure some of the smaller dives too til the wee hours of the morning. However, those trips became further and further between and now together, we only venture in once or twice a year to go to our favorite spot, Howl at the Moon. It is the perfect blend of piano culture and drunken mayhem. What can I say, it’s my perfect environment.
In 2005, I ventured in with a friend after discussing we would bring our bikes on the Metra (the best invention for us stuck in the hicks away from the city) using the 5 dollar all weekend pass and then bike as far as we could home along the lakefront, and hopping the train when we got tired. Although upon discussion, opted that we were too chickenshit to drive our bikes in downtown to actually GET to the bike path and decided to hook up with a fellow co-worker who was hanging out down there in the Prairie Loft District neighborhood near 18th and would meet us for lunch and some cocktails. Hell, drinking in Chicago sounded like the next best option. It WAS. Good times, until we had to ride the train back and I had to do a photo shoot that afternoon while fighting a little hangover. Not good, but the pics were stellar.
Since that visit, I have make the trip whenever possible. At first, I would bring the camera and various lenses taking picture at every opportunity. Later, just got tired of not being able to venture where I truly wanted to go because of the equipment hassle and just decided to people watch and do all the things a native would do without assuming the persona of a tourist. Just BE.
To BE in Chicago is a challenge. You have to act like you know where you’re going (and I’m sad to say, I still carry a fold out plastic map with me at all times for fear of getting lost) and have some attitude, all while enjoying the new splendors the city hands you at every visit. I don’t pretend to know the neighborhoods but have walked to several to get pictures – Lincoln Park, Humboldt & Wicker Parks, the Loop of course and I’m sure many others that I have passed through and gone to actual establishments, but don’t know the ‘technical’ neighborhood boundaries or names off of the top of my head. I’m still trying to learn the attitude without coming off as being a suburban bi-otch.
Chicago is my drug. Every time my metra train rumbles towards the station, I get this rush of emotion that is indescribable. I see the buildings and I just crumble. I am completely, hopelessly addicted to her. That sounds crazy, but anyone who loves the city and gets to live there, knows exactly what I mean. I literally swell inside when I get to see the different facets she lays out for me. I could sit for hours and hours (and have) at millennium park and the fountains just watching people. I have gone to the beach and felt comfortable there with about 50,000 other people. I try and think about what each person does during the day they are not where they were currently. I never see anything negative about the city. I guess I’ve been lucky, because of course I realize crime exists, but keep my quiet guard about me when walking like my daddy always taught me. Attitude and eye contact keeps me pretty safe. No one would dare mess with a pissed off redhead anyway. I’m feisty and my aim is good. Just because I’ve been burbed doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself. Cab money isn’t a bad thing to happen and don’t get me started on how sexy I think the El’s potential could be. To be down and dirty in Chi-town. A real native….maybe someday I’ll venture and learn. After all, the city has many more places I’ve yet to explore.
She’s unassuming, yet not arrogant. She is secretive until she knows you are worthy for appreciating her correctly. Too many people take the city for granted, and thus maybe karma keeps those people in check. Hey, what goes around comes around, and no city needs that kind of hassle. She is the best kind of host, and is open to sharing her with everyone who dares give her the respect a good city deserves.
I watch that HGTV program called “What you get for the money” and Chicago is featured many times in the higher price point ranges of $400,000 to $750,000. I see them explore a beautiful contemporary loft – my dream house – and their many amenities and when they show the price tag that is nearly 15 times my annual salary, I find myself justifying to my brain that ‘that’s not that bad’ or ‘I could come up with that’ not realizing that I’d have to sell a kidney and a couple of children in order to have that REALLY happen. I snap out of it when I realize that the property taxes alone would be my salary and the cost of one of those places I love so much are 5 times the value of my current home that I will own in approximately 26.2 years, free and clear.
After that revelation, I’ve been just resigned to the fact that the only thing I need for a good day in the city is a good book, comfortable walking shoes, my iPod and and a 5 dollar metra ticket. Everything else is provided for me by her majesty.
I’m lucky the natives let me share her with them. I’m honored and positively addicted, and for this I hope I am never cured.
I’ve been meaning to write this for a long, long time, and always stopped because I couldn’t find the right words to say what I was trying to convey to the average layperson. Nothing I wrote sounded right, or expressed the feelings I wanted. I knew how I FELT, just couldn’t quite explain it.
Anyone who knows me, knows that when I say ‘the city’, I’m talking about Chicago. I have so much I want to say, so forgive me if this comes out jumbled and just, well….wrong. I won’t pretend to know everything about the city I love so much, exactly the opposite. I write what I know, occasionally bullshitting with the best of them, but never EVER will pretend to know first-hand what it’s like to be an actual Chicagoan. I should be so lucky. I’m just a suburban middle-class housewife who longs with her whole being to live in the greatest city in the world.
My earliest experiences with the city came back when I was a little pintsized firecracker of about 9 or 10 when I would get the privilege to go to work with my dad (my stepdad, but my daddy since I was 5). He was born in 1927 in the city and grew up in the depression. He would tell me stories, many of which I’m blank to right now and make a mental note to take down some of the information more tediously, as I’m sure others would love to hear them. My Grandma Kunkel was a short little round polish woman, squishy to the touch and impossible to get my arms around. She and my dad both used to teach us polish phrases and sentences and unfortunately for those who knew polish, they weren’t of the clean variety. “Smells like shit” was one of the prized jewels that my 3 year old sister was taught and variations of the like. When one learned a particular phrase, you only need know additional verbs to ‘insert here’…..
My dad lived in the city for most of his early life and transplanted in his 30s to the north burbs of Pistakee Highlands in McHenry/Lake County. He built several homes, raised kids, married and divorced, twice…..but remained a true Chicagoan through and through. He worked downtown and amidst the suburbs every day delivering heating oil via truck, then later only in the winter, started his own paving company, then sold it and began working for Troch McNeil Paving Co. in Elk Grove Village until he retired in 1990. One of my fondest memories is always the smell of fresh asphalt for it brought me back to dad and our days on the truck in the summer together. I was with him when he paved Rosemont Horizon with his company. I would watch him go back and forth while laying on the stairway and learning the plans overhead, then hopping in to make another run to the plant to get more asphalt.
So, I would say my experiences really began when I was about 10, but really got to see the culture OUTSIDE of the truck at about 13. That was my first trip to Eds. Ed Debevics for the non-natives. The only place in the city where they welcome you to be rude, although at the time, I didn’t know that to be the case, but it didn’t bother me either way. It was jus neat to be there with the dancing, and the shiny barstools, and the crazy costumes.
Unfortunately for the next 20 years, I really didn’t get down to the city so much, so how wonderful it was that upon my 2nd marriage, my husband and I started to partake in the city more often, he having been there many times visiting with old friends from the Quad Cities to those large corporate bars, and I’m sure some of the smaller dives too til the wee hours of the morning. However, those trips became further and further between and now together, we only venture in once or twice a year to go to our favorite spot, Howl at the Moon. It is the perfect blend of piano culture and drunken mayhem. What can I say, it’s my perfect environment.
In 2005, I ventured in with a friend after discussing we would bring our bikes on the Metra (the best invention for us stuck in the hicks away from the city) using the 5 dollar all weekend pass and then bike as far as we could home along the lakefront, and hopping the train when we got tired. Although upon discussion, opted that we were too chickenshit to drive our bikes in downtown to actually GET to the bike path and decided to hook up with a fellow co-worker who was hanging out down there in the Prairie Loft District neighborhood near 18th and would meet us for lunch and some cocktails. Hell, drinking in Chicago sounded like the next best option. It WAS. Good times, until we had to ride the train back and I had to do a photo shoot that afternoon while fighting a little hangover. Not good, but the pics were stellar.
Since that visit, I have make the trip whenever possible. At first, I would bring the camera and various lenses taking picture at every opportunity. Later, just got tired of not being able to venture where I truly wanted to go because of the equipment hassle and just decided to people watch and do all the things a native would do without assuming the persona of a tourist. Just BE.
To BE in Chicago is a challenge. You have to act like you know where you’re going (and I’m sad to say, I still carry a fold out plastic map with me at all times for fear of getting lost) and have some attitude, all while enjoying the new splendors the city hands you at every visit. I don’t pretend to know the neighborhoods but have walked to several to get pictures – Lincoln Park, Humboldt & Wicker Parks, the Loop of course and I’m sure many others that I have passed through and gone to actual establishments, but don’t know the ‘technical’ neighborhood boundaries or names off of the top of my head. I’m still trying to learn the attitude without coming off as being a suburban bi-otch.
Chicago is my drug. Every time my metra train rumbles towards the station, I get this rush of emotion that is indescribable. I see the buildings and I just crumble. I am completely, hopelessly addicted to her. That sounds crazy, but anyone who loves the city and gets to live there, knows exactly what I mean. I literally swell inside when I get to see the different facets she lays out for me. I could sit for hours and hours (and have) at millennium park and the fountains just watching people. I have gone to the beach and felt comfortable there with about 50,000 other people. I try and think about what each person does during the day they are not where they were currently. I never see anything negative about the city. I guess I’ve been lucky, because of course I realize crime exists, but keep my quiet guard about me when walking like my daddy always taught me. Attitude and eye contact keeps me pretty safe. No one would dare mess with a pissed off redhead anyway. I’m feisty and my aim is good. Just because I’ve been burbed doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself. Cab money isn’t a bad thing to happen and don’t get me started on how sexy I think the El’s potential could be. To be down and dirty in Chi-town. A real native….maybe someday I’ll venture and learn. After all, the city has many more places I’ve yet to explore.
She’s unassuming, yet not arrogant. She is secretive until she knows you are worthy for appreciating her correctly. Too many people take the city for granted, and thus maybe karma keeps those people in check. Hey, what goes around comes around, and no city needs that kind of hassle. She is the best kind of host, and is open to sharing her with everyone who dares give her the respect a good city deserves.
I watch that HGTV program called “What you get for the money” and Chicago is featured many times in the higher price point ranges of $400,000 to $750,000. I see them explore a beautiful contemporary loft – my dream house – and their many amenities and when they show the price tag that is nearly 15 times my annual salary, I find myself justifying to my brain that ‘that’s not that bad’ or ‘I could come up with that’ not realizing that I’d have to sell a kidney and a couple of children in order to have that REALLY happen. I snap out of it when I realize that the property taxes alone would be my salary and the cost of one of those places I love so much are 5 times the value of my current home that I will own in approximately 26.2 years, free and clear.
After that revelation, I’ve been just resigned to the fact that the only thing I need for a good day in the city is a good book, comfortable walking shoes, my iPod and and a 5 dollar metra ticket. Everything else is provided for me by her majesty.
I’m lucky the natives let me share her with them. I’m honored and positively addicted, and for this I hope I am never cured.
Reds Picture Dictionary - Part 2
Spiritual
Main Entry: 1spir·i·tu·al
1: of, relating to, consisting of, or affecting the spirit : incorporeal 2 a: of or relating to sacred matters b: ecclesiastical rather than lay or temporal
3: concerned with religious values
4: related or joined in spirit
5 a: of or relating to supernatural beings or phenomena b: of, relating to, or involving spiritualism : spiritualistic
Ethereal
Main Entry: ethe·re·al
1 a: of or relating to the regions beyond the earth b: celestial, heavenly c: unworldly, spiritual
Roar
Main Entry: 1roar
1 : the deep cry of a wild animal (as a lion)
2 : a loud deep cry (as of pain or anger)
3 : a loud continuous confused sound
4 : a boisterous outcry
I’ve heard the El and it roars…..so to speak. Maybe it knows something we don’t!
Anticipation
Main Entry: an·tic·i·pa·tion
1 a: a prior action that takes into account or forestalls a later action b: the act of looking forward; especially : pleasurable expectation
This was taken in 1995 when Penske was at the height of the series. This picture was taken when Michael Andretti flipped in the sand on part of the permanent road course at Elkhart Lake WI. I took a picture of the group (JP, John W, Doug and I can’t remember the lowest guys’ name. Richie’s jacket is on the right) right before the crash and they were all standing up straight, then the crash happened and they all leaned in and I took another. This is it. Michael Andretti flipped about 10 times in the sand and walked away.
Trust
Main Entry: 1trust
1 a: assured reliance on the character, ability, strength, or truth of someone or something b: one in which confidence is placed
This was taken last winter. These girls were clinging to each other like white on rice. I suppose I do the same when I’m skating too, but I thought it was precious.
Serene
Main Entry: 1se·rene
1 a: clear and free of storms or unpleasant change b: shining bright and steady
2: august —used as part of a title
3: marked by or suggestive of utter calm and unruffled repose or quietude
Main Entry: 1spir·i·tu·al
1: of, relating to, consisting of, or affecting the spirit : incorporeal 2 a: of or relating to sacred matters b: ecclesiastical rather than lay or temporal
3: concerned with religious values
4: related or joined in spirit
5 a: of or relating to supernatural beings or phenomena b: of, relating to, or involving spiritualism : spiritualistic
Ethereal
Main Entry: ethe·re·al
1 a: of or relating to the regions beyond the earth b: celestial, heavenly c: unworldly, spiritual
Roar
Main Entry: 1roar
1 : the deep cry of a wild animal (as a lion)
2 : a loud deep cry (as of pain or anger)
3 : a loud continuous confused sound
4 : a boisterous outcry
I’ve heard the El and it roars…..so to speak. Maybe it knows something we don’t!
Anticipation
Main Entry: an·tic·i·pa·tion
1 a: a prior action that takes into account or forestalls a later action b: the act of looking forward; especially : pleasurable expectation
This was taken in 1995 when Penske was at the height of the series. This picture was taken when Michael Andretti flipped in the sand on part of the permanent road course at Elkhart Lake WI. I took a picture of the group (JP, John W, Doug and I can’t remember the lowest guys’ name. Richie’s jacket is on the right) right before the crash and they were all standing up straight, then the crash happened and they all leaned in and I took another. This is it. Michael Andretti flipped about 10 times in the sand and walked away.
Trust
Main Entry: 1trust
1 a: assured reliance on the character, ability, strength, or truth of someone or something b: one in which confidence is placed
This was taken last winter. These girls were clinging to each other like white on rice. I suppose I do the same when I’m skating too, but I thought it was precious.
Serene
Main Entry: 1se·rene
1 a: clear and free of storms or unpleasant change b: shining bright and steady
2: august —used as part of a title
3: marked by or suggestive of utter calm and unruffled repose or quietude
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