After a rainy 4th of July, I woke up this morning to find sunlight streaming in. I wasn't even out of bed, and already the city seemed to be calling my name. I had been tentatively planning to go into town for church, so the sunshine was enough to turn those plans from "maybe" into "yes". After hurriedly getting ready, I scrambled down to the green line entrance right behind the dorm, literally running in hopes of catching the 10:05 train. I figured that I would travel as far north as the line would take me, essentially only as far as the Loop, and then enjoy a nice stroll on Michigan Ave to get to church from there. However, the turnstile didn't like my farecard, despite the fact that there was plenty of money on it. Since that particular entrance is completely unattended, my next option would've been to walk two blocks south to the primary entrance. But by now I had missed the 10:05 train, so I wouldn't have enough time to walk Michigan Ave and still make it for the start of the church service. Plan B was to walk a few extra blocks to the Sox/35th red line station. After passing through Chinatown, the red line goes subterranean and travels below State St., providing an easy route to destinations further uptown. Exiting the train at Chicago Ave., it was a short walk to Fourth Presbyterian Church, and I made it in plenty of time.
The sanctuary was just as I remembered it from my sole visit about a year ago. I was directed to a seat on the right-hand side, near the front of the church. A tall woman sat down to my left, explaining that she liked to be on the aisle in case she needed to stretch her legs. I asked if she was a member of the church; she said that no, she wasn't, but was in town for about 6 weeks visiting her daughters. After a brief exchange on that topic, she asked where I was from. Upon learning that I was from GR, she asked if I was familiar with Christ Community Church in Spring Lake; she had a connection with a person there. I explained that yes, I was familiar with it, and that I in fact knew some people who had been on staff there many, many years ago, before it left the RCA. We fell silent for a time as the prelude began. The organ music at Fourth is just fantastic, and I was loving every minute of it. However, as the final prelude piece, a real pew-rattler, built to a climax, she leaned over and said to me, "You know, I don't understand why he has to play so loud. And I'm an old organist!" Although I wanted to reply with something to the effect of, "If it's too loud, you're too old!", I mumbled a more polite response and resumed listening.
The service was very patriotic in nature, given the holiday weekend. We sang nationalistic hymns, the anthems were Copland and an African-American spiritual, and the postlude was Widor's "Marche Americaine". The music was wonderful, but I must say that I missed Larry's interlude on the first hymn, "God of the Ages, Whose Almighty Hand". At the conclusion of the service, I was a postlude-sitter, not budging from the pew until the last note had been sounded and applauded. What a fantastic way to start the day.
My reformulated plan was to walk Michigan Avenue for awhile, heading south until I could pick up the green line back to campus. But the city was too gorgeous to pass up, and so my goal-oriented walk turned into a 3-hour meander. I did a little browsing and a little shopping, and I stopped along the way for an iced latte at Starbucks, courtesy of a gift card from a student. As I am wont to do when visiting big cities, I tried to pretend that I was a local and felt proud of myself each time I waltzed past the crowd of diligently waiting tourists and crossed a street before the "walk" light indicated it was safe to do so. The weather was beyond perfect - not too hot, not too cold, a light breeze, and unbelievable sunshine. When I reached the river, I stopped on the bridge for moment, just enjoying the city and the view. Continuing on, I decided that Symphony Hall would be a logical stopping point; I was hoping to take advantage of a sale at the Symphony Store, and since it is near a green line station, it seemed as good a plan as any. Sadly, when I got there I found that the Symphony Store was closed. But rather than go home as planned, I kept on walking. It was too beautiful to leave.
When I got to Jackson, the street name triggered something in my brain, and a little snippet of information came floating to the surface - "Garrett's - State & Jackson" - and so I made a spontaneous decision to alter my course. Sure enough; a block or two later, there it was, in all its caramel-corn glory, with a line a half-block long! Looking across the street, I saw familiar benches outside Barnes and Noble; I remembered eating Garrett's there with my friends last summer. Sadly, I decided I didn't have time to wait in line, and so I headed south on State St. and entered the main branch of the Chicago Public Library instead. The music section is the stuff of legend among the VanderCook staff, and I was anxious to check it out for myself. Although the library is not particularly special inside, the sheer quantity of materials more than makes up for anything lacking in appearance. Music is on the 8th floor - rows upon rows of sheet music, 6 practice rooms with pianos, a chamber music rehearsal room, listening stations galore... I even stumbled upon a sizable collection of vinyl! My curiosity satisfied, I went up one more floor to the Winter Garden, where my cousin had her wedding reception. As I entered the room, a sudden wave of emotion nearly knocked me over. Like a movie scene where someone sees ghosts of the past in a familiar setting, instantly I remembered being there with our whole extended family, remembered where I had been sitting, remembered her dad - my uncle - giving his toast to his daughter and her new husband, remembered how good and right it all was to be celebrating together. The grief and horror of all that has happened since overwhelmed me. I walked around for awhile before sitting on a bench and letting the tears roll down.
Leaving the library, I decided to make one last stop - the lake. I walked east on Congress Parkway, past the "pasta" hostel and the Congress Hotel - more places from last summer's adventures. The Taste of Chicago prevented easy access to the waterfront, and so I traveled south on Michigan Ave. as far as the museum campus before taking the pedestrian bridges and walkways out to the shore. Along the way I saw a woman carrying an enormous bag of Garrett's. As she stuffed a handful into her mouth, it was all I could to do keep from drooling on the sidewalk. I made a mental note to plan a return trip on a less busy day in order to get some of that deliciousness for myself. I had set a 3:00 deadline, which gave me just a few blissful minutes standing along the lake, watching the boats, marveling at the wonder of the day. It is hard to picture more perfect weather than what we had today. Just amazing.
But my cell phone struck 3, and so I tore myself away from the railing and walked to the Roosevelt stop on the green line. By 3:25 I was back on campus, ready to dig in to a pile of homework.
Excellent, excellent day.
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