We ventured onto the streets of Chicago mid-afternoon. The city seems to preserve its old structures. A block away is a Bloomingdales which appears to be in an old mosque. The older buildings are interspersed among new, high towers but in a way that seems charming. It feels here like Portland, though the towering buildings are much taller. Wandered into Mario Vitalli’s C eately(?) and spent 30 or 40 minutes pondering upscale cooking implements and Italian candies and cookies. We purchased a small bag of pine bud drops, sage and lemon, and blueberry drops. The pine bud drops were truly like having a mouth full of pine sap and proved to be an effective diet aid as neither of us wanted anything in our mouths for a long while after. We’ll have plenty to share when we return home.

We continued our stroll, Lydia digitalizing old or interesting buildings as we saw them Including two identical pizza parlors on the corner of our street and the next, Pizza Uno and Pizza Due (1 and 2 get it?). I got tired and it was close to the time for us to get a cab to Wrigley Field.

The driver proved to be extremely friendly and knowledgeable about Chicago and its history, driving one-handed while turning to tell me all about the areas we were passing, during rush hour traffic which, he informed us, was especially heavy due to the Cubs game. His accent was thick and though he said he’d lived in Chicago for 29 years I am sure that it was in another country that he learned to drive without ever looking at the road. We passed through a neighborhood, like Portland, Chicago has distinct neighborhoods, which he called “boys town”. It was a gay community area and at that point he began to warn us about pickpockets, strangers, the drunks on the “EL”, troublemakers from outside of the neighborhood, etc. Fortunately, we approached the stadium and he let us out a block away.

Wrigley Field from a block away is exactly as you hoped it would be. It isn’t a huge, superdome of modern design and bank-like sterility. Its small, personal, and convenient. It seems to be built for the common man’s game that baseball once was. It was staffed by seniors who took my drink tray and carried It up the stairs so I could use my cane and the handrail, who patiently helped an Hispanic family with three toddlers find seats when they were lost, who encouraged me to use the lift when we were leaving. Nothing we needed was a long walk away. The scoreboard at center field is big and grey-green and the numbers are still changed by people behind it. Occasionally I could see someone peering out from one of the squares. A shrine to baseball, Wrigley Field is also a shrine to community

We left at the top of the 7th inning with the Cubs ahead of the Pirates 13 to 3. The four men behind us talked the entire game and, with all of the other activity, we decided that we hadn’t really paid as much attention to the game as we did at home which was fine. It is about the whole experience after all.

We had no trouble getting a cab back to our boutique hotel and after a quick stop to get a to go adult beverage we returned to our room to read and reflect on our day.

The weather cooled a might today and we layered our clothing as we set out for a river boat architectural tour of the city. The boat was not at all crowded and the docent who narrated our tour was extraordinary. I was hard pressed to listen and look at the structures at the same time because he had so much to say and said it in such an entertaining way. Lydia had been on the tour in a previous visit and I now see why she was so eager to go again. For 75 minutes, we cruised up and down the Chicago river (which had its flow reversed to flow FROM the great lake rather than to it to prevent city pollution from damaging the city water supply), admiring and wondering at the new and old buildings and at how the architects’ buildings “talked” to each other through their form (the docent’s words).

We’ve returned to our room where Lydia is packing for the next leg of our adventure, New Orleans. I feel some concern caused by the nearby flooding from the hurricane, but not finding any contra-indicators, we will proceed south, rain coats in hand. It is an over- night trip, but we will see a good portion of the deep south as our train does not arrive in NOL until late afternoon, if the “Good Lord’s willing and the creek don’t rise” (is that Tennessee Ernie Ford?).

The day is not over and I intend to find a traditional Chicago deep dish pizza and a glass or two of red before we leave the city. Wish us luck.

As Always,

Blessings

The Road