Now THIS is a blog post!

Okay, I just got back from the Windy Apple. It was quite an adventure. I love adventures.

Saturday

So, I got up at 7:40ish on Saturday morning and seriously considered staying in South Bend. Then I thought, "When am I even going to have this choice again?" I knew as soon as I got back to Gainesville that I'd regret missing out on seeing Chicago again. The decision was made: I called a cab and got ready to go.

I'll skip the mundane details, but I ended up on the South Shore train and made my way to Randolph St. On the train, I finished Not the Way It's Supposed to Be. It is an excellent book; I recommend it to everyone. It presents a very interesting paradigm of shalom as "the way things are supposed to be" and sin as the spoiling and stripping of that good. The book is a little old-fashioned at times in its treatment of particular issues and groups (sometimes a few stereotypes sneak in), but it provides a thought-provoking frame of the world nonetheless.

I wandered down Michigan Ave. until I found a Giordano's, where I got some pizza and a cannoli. While I was eating lunch, my good friend Emily called me.

Em: "Mofro is playing Wicker Park today [editorial: it was actually tomorrow]. I know you're jealous since you're in South Bend."
Me: "Oh yeah? Well, I'm eating pizza on Michigan Avenue right now. Wanna go?"
Em: "..."

So we figured out that I could meet her at Wicker Park, crash at her uncle's place, and go to church with them the next day. I left the pizza place and headed to Millennium Park and the Art Institute (my two main goals). I hadn't seen the El Greco pieces when I was there before, so I did that and then visited the old favorites (Van Gogh, Renoir, etc.). I could stare at Two Sisters (On a Terrace) for hours.

I left the Art Institute and wandered around trying to figure out how to get to Wicker Park. I also walked up to the Sears Tower while listening to Sufjan's "The Seer's Tower" (I am so cinematic). Eventually, I ended up on the blue line heading towards Damen (after I had made lots of friends in trying to figure out how to get there).

I wandered around Wicker Park until I found Emily and her cousins (who are all trés cool). We hung out there for a while, walked around, and then Emily, Mary (the Indy cousin), and I headed back to downtown Chicago. We ate dinner at a place called The Artist's Café, which had good food but horrendous service - we waited 25 minutes AFTER finishing our meal for the check! It's the only time in my life where I didn't leave a tip. I usually vow to give a waiter/waitress the benefit of the doubt and tip anyway, but this was just deplorable (and money counts these days).


It started to rain, so our evening had to change a bit. We headed to Garrett's for some popcorn and then to a café (where I, of course, enjoyed a chai latté with cinnamon on top). In the midst of this, I met a homeless woman named Pat who had several small children (you can kind of see them in the picture to the right). I hate homelessness. I wish I could end it. Maybe I can at least make a dent in it with some other folks. Of course, I also want to end human sex trafficking. Who's with me?

I'm getting ahead of myself. Back to the story.

After that, we walked over to Millennium Park to hear a concert. It was wonderful, and it happened to be Carmina Burana by Carl Orff. Then we walked down to the Metra station and took the train to Glen Ellyn, where Emily's uncle lives. I crashed there...

Sunday

...and woke up bright and early for church. I took a shower and put on the same clothes I had worn the previous day (the life of random travel, which is always fun). Emily's aunt made us eggs, toast, and coffee, which was probably the best breakfast I had had in weeks. We hopped in the car and headed for River City Community Church, the church home of one of Emily's cousins. I really, really enjoyed it. It was certainly water in the desert, and the pastor preached on the book Esther. The topic was "Being a Cultural Leader," and the relevance of his sermon to this season of my life was absolutely uncanny.

I really feel that my time at Notre Dame and these trips to Chicago have been paradigmatic. It's been a period of tremendous self-discovery about who I am as a person, as a man, as a Christian, and as a Christian man (who is a person).

After church, Emily's family graciously invited me to lunch with them at a place called Wishbone, which has ridiculously good breakfast. Two breakfasts in one day. Amazing. The food and the conversation was just great. It was so nice to be with a family after these long weeks without my own.

They dropped me off on Michigan, where I proceeded to secure a ride for this evening and begin to wander again. For some reason, Lake Michigan had become my mecca. I walked with purpose toward the Lake, not having any idea where I was really going. I had this vague idea of going to Navy Pier, but I didn't really know how to get there. I mean, how hard can it be to get to a lake? You just head towards the shore, right?

Well, it ended up taking a lot longer than I thought. I walked for miles, probably, asking directions, being amazed at random parks and beautifully massive buildings along the way, and trying to get to the elusive Great Lake. I think I got all the way to the marina and realized that I was on the wrong side of the Chicago River to get to the Pier. What I should have done was keep going along the marina and walked to the edge. Unfortunately, I didn't have that kind of hindsight. So, I took a nice little detour walking away from the Lake along the Chicago River. Things could have been much, much worse. In Chicago, even getting lost is amazing.

That sounds like a t-shirt.


Eventually I did make it to Navy Pier, but I had misjudged how long the pier was. The thing is ridiculous. I was booking it to the end of the pier when I realized that it just wasn't going to happen. It was already close to 4:30 and I had to get to Randolph by at least 5:30. So I stopped, had my "Lake Michigan Moment," left a message for Chris, and began my trek back to the station.

I sat next to a guy named Darrin who was with his wife and two daughters. They were a nice little family from a small town south of Michigan City. He works in the fertilizer/chemical industry. Seemed like a nice guy. I have determined that once you know someone's name, you are no longer strangers. It was really interesting how far along we got in our conversation before we introduced ourselves.

I arrived in South Bend safe and sound. Dr. Sterk's friend Emily (apparently the name du jour) picked me up and took me back to Notre Dame.

All in all, it was an amazing weekend. I also think that Emily and I are practically related now. We've spent like 30 hours together this summer, and I've hung out with her cousins. She's a good egg.

I'm sorry that I am unable to distill the insights I've gathered about myself into this blog. I think once I get back home to Orlando or Gainesville and stop experiencing it all, I will be able to synthesize what I've thought about and experienced this summer.

Sleep well. Pictures are coming soon for fbookers and non-fbookers alike.

Peace,
Sam