The trip to Chicago, a first for me, happens because Craig is signed up for a mediation course.
We fly out of Vancouver the morning after the Stanley Cup riot. We know nothing about it as the flight is early morning, we go to bed early and hear no news. The first we hear about it is when we tell a shopkeeper we are from Vancouver and he expresses sympathy “for all that happened the other night, man”. What happened the other night we ask? He shows us the front page of the paper. We’re shocked. All that happened while we slept.
The course is a week long at a college on the west side of the river, close to the Miracle Mile. We stay at an all suites Marriott with views of the lake from our room. While Craig is at class I shop. J Crew. Eileen Fisher. Some loafers called “Toms”.
We run along the lake a couple of mornings. We take the El to Oak Park, home of Frank Lloyd Wright. And to Bucktown. And to a Cubs game. Father’s day. The Yankees always come to play the Cubs on Father’s Day. I see Alex Rodriguez in person. He is handsome and well built. And he can catch a ball. I am on the verge of swooning when I see the wad of chew in his left cheek. Grotesque.
Milwaukee is a short rental car drive up the west shore of Lake Michigan. Home of Schlitz brewery. And the Fonz. The cool teenager from Happy Days. We have a fun two days here.
En route to one of the few remaining covered bridges in America, we happen upon a Sunday Strawberry Festival. Talk about a scene straight out of Normal Rockwell. A throwback to an earlier and simpler time. We revel in it. The ambience. The food. Especially the chocolate coated strawberries.
