365 Days in Chicago

A nature museum in the middle of a metropolis? Sure, why not.

The Notebaert, as anything with a whiff of science, is geared toward kids. There’s a river exhibit for splashing, tanks full of salamanders and frogs, and very local descriptions of habitat. For the climate deniers in the tour group, there is also an exhibit with real actual science explaining how global warming works.

The most delightful part, as everyone will tell you, is the butterfly enclosure. In a warm room draped with the type of magical plants butterflies seem to love to float on, visitors can roam free and marvel and I guess let them land on you, though I didn’t get hitchhikers.

I also appreciated the nature walk around the outside of the building, which was nicely thought out and peaceful.

In looking up the website to link to, I also discovered the museum is actually the home base for the Chicago Academy of Sciences, which goes back to 1857. They have a citizen science program where they encourage you to collect information on local wildlife. I just might have to take on Project Squirrel. For science!

Why are 80% of essential Chicago food spots hot dog joints? I’m not complaining, just beginning to see a continuous thread on this blog. Gene & Jude’s is a hot dog joint. It's not even in the city, which takes it down a few notches in my view, but some people swear it's the best dog you'll find.

Their hot dog is like if someone ate at Primanti's in Pittsburgh and asked themselves "Now how do I make this Chicago style?" Answer: take a Chicago style dog minus the poppyseed bun and celery salt (and tomatoes, okay so it's just the onions, mustard, relish and sport peppers) and plop some greasy fries on top.

I'm okay with this idea. Potatoes are my jam. But who wore the “fries between bread” concept better? Well... I’ll just say that in my current ranking of Chicago hot dogs, this Gene & Jude’s comes in somewhere about the middle.

The hardest part is staring at those fries so anxiously calling out for ketchup. I love ketchup almost as much as I love potatoes. Would it have made a better hot dog? I don't know Chicago. What's good?

There are a lot of street festivals in Chicago, and if you dedicate yourself to attending at least one each weekend through the summer they start to blur together by August’s end. I, at least, can only listen to cover bands and chow on corn-on-the-cob while walking down a car-free avenue so many times.

The Ginza Holiday festival at the Midwest Buddhist Temple is much more than a street fest. By inviting their neighbors, and the city at large, onto their temple grounds, the organizers ensure that you’re immersed in their celebration of Japanese culture.

Not surprising for a culturally based Chicago festival, the food is a big draw. An entire swath of the temple's backyard is dedicated to grilling teriyaki chicken. You can also get sushi, soba, and well, of course, the Japanese version of corn-on-the-cob.

The other major draw are the performances, which include various taiko drumming groups, martial arts, and kendo demonstrations. Kendo is basically men trying to whack each other over the head with wooden sticks while yelling.

Inside the temple, you can view the chapel and also take in an exhibit of bonsai and ikebana (floral arranging). This was the 61st year of the Ginza celebration and certainly there will be many more to follow.

I’m amazed at my ability to find quiet zones in this city of 2 million. Though to be honest, any art gallery short of the Art Institute is not going to be teeming with the public. Austere quiet is possible, and welcome, if you step off 35th Street and into the Zhou B Art Center in Bridgeport.

As I walked into the first floor filled with mammoth Zhou brothers’ canvases and sculptures, I felt like I was intruding on someone’s private gallery. I was prepared to shout, “The door was open, I swear!” if anyone questioned me.

The Zhou style is distinct: the paintings are marked by broad strokes over murky backgrounds (which on closer inspection the backgrounds appear to be foregrounds, the characters/strokes are carved out of the overlay) and the sculptures are human-like, rough-hewn.

More than a place for the Zhou brothers to present their artwork to the public, though, the art center also houses artist studios. Go during regular hours and it feels like a sleepy work day, but I hear third Fridays when all the artists open their studios to the public are hopping. It sure would be interesting to see the sleek bar on the first floor come alive.

The second floor has an open gallery with rotating exhibits. When I went, the exhibit “LEXICON“ was on display. Visitors were encouraged to write their impressions on sticky notes, which I was all for because I love participatory art. The art on display was a mixed bag of fresh out of art school to more refined work. The piece that gave the strongest impression was a painting of a naked man with his face wrapped in an American flag brandishing a gun, money, and a bible (”Crazy for God” by Zachary J. Williams). Themes of our current election cycle much? Or really, never-ending themes of our Americaness much? I had some interesting sticky-note commentary to put on that one.

It’s always surprised me that Chicago’s Chinatown is really “China"town as in real Chinese people live there. Too many ethnically labeled neighbors are so only in commercial spirit, a few restaurants aimed at tourists and maybe some gift shops (I’m looking at you Greektown.) Of course, this is the score that the old beast gentrification builds to; what once was is always changing.

Chicago Chinatown is a real community, and one that is showing some real investment from the city lately. The new library might require a future post but it looks worth checking out. Investments have been made in Ping Tom Park as well. There’s a newish boathouse (I stared longingly at the kayaks [soon, soon!]), a stop for the water taxi (yup, need to do that too), and a newish field house.

And while a lot of city investment seems outward-facing, to entice tourists, I’m impressed at Ping Tom, an inward-facing park very much embedded in the community. I had to wander down a maze of community housing just to find it.

It’s a decent-sized park wedged between the river and train tracks, with major roads and two L lines whizzing above. The path figure-8s around a playground, the boathouse, a launch, milling geese, bridge underpass, a pagoda, a guy on a bench doing either tai chi or maybe hopefully doesn’t have Parkinson’s, and more geese. It’s amazing to see the city apply funds in a meaningful way, with real community input.

Chicago strives to be a theater town. Sure the “Broadway in Chicago” bit feels frustratingly second-rate, but a lot exists outside the downtown Jersey Boys and Wicked second runs to appease the suburban set.

Tops for drama is Steppenwolf, run under the artistic auspices of Captain Dan, Fitz’s gay chief of staff, and Julia Stiles dad in Save the Last Dance (that’s Gary Sinise, Jeff Perry, and Terry Kinney). I don’t mean to be disparaging in my descriptors; the Chicago scene is very homegrown and proud. And we like it that way.

So I went to see Mary Page Marlowe, the latest from Pulitzer-winning playwright Tracy Letts. The concept was intriguing. Seven different actresses playing scenes throughout a character’s life. Anna Shapiro’s introduction in the program had me ready to experience some feels. “Time and its fraternal twin inevitability will have its way with all of us,” she said, “and, in the end, will write the story of who we were.” The play didn’t quite deliver.

The final scene seemed to carry some heavy weight that I just didn’t get. I was like, lady’s just getting her dry cleaning, but it seemed to be pushing for enlightenment in the mundane. The revelation that life wasn’t happening to Mary Page Marlowe so much as “I did it all myself” seemed forced. I think the play needed to be more expansive to reach the conclusions it wanted. It was a window into a life that was too small, too briefly glanced. I wanted more.

Blair Brown, playing the oldest iteration of Mary Page, was phenomenal and I can’t wait to see her on the new season of Orange is the New Black. Her ability to make you empathize with the character was effortless.

The theater itself was a great venue. I loved the interchangeable sets run on tracks, the intimate seating, the custom cocktail at the bar (Que Sera--a song Mary Page’s mom mentions, and her life motto probably, the drink was a take on the old fashioned). All good elements for drama watching and frequent theater-going.

Bonus tip: if you’re like me and don’t go to the theater that much because you find it rather pricey for an evening’s entertainment, most theaters run some kind of deal that you should definitely look into. Steppenwolf holds 20 tickets for $20. This means you have to call immediately when the box office opens and wait 15 minutes listening to dead air, but you get cheap tickets. WORTH IT.

When I started this blog I imagined my sole venture into Englewood would be to snap a pic and shiver at the sight of the haunted post office where HH Holmes’ murder castle used to stand. But gawping at 100-year-dead history is disingenuous to the real Chicago people calling the neighborhood home today. That’s not what I created this blog for, and that’s not the kind of Chicago citizen I want to be.

What’s a few out-of-town Victorian ladies getting gassed to death versus the youth dying on the streets of Englewood? To the people dying on the streets all around Chicago nearly every single day? Englewood gets the brunt of our statistical horror and believe me, the residents are feeling it and facing it. When other hoods hear of a shooting nearby and salve their conscience by thinking “At least I don’t live in Englewood!” they have the luxury of turning a blind eye (at least on the Northside). You can maybe say that Englewood is the only neighborhood confronting reality.

My first lesson in staying woke was Clarence’s t-shirt which said “Bury guns, not bodies.” Clarence works for I Grow Chicago and helps provide a safe environment for school-age kids to learn about gardening and yoga. Clarence led me around their peace house and introduced me to the founder, Robbin. Robbin tried to talk me into decorating a fence post, but I didn’t want to tarnish a post with something they’d have to paint over.

I ate lunch at Dream Cafe whose mural out front seems to be a popular spot for photo shoots. I saw two dudes in gold chains posing with faraway looks in their eyes. Album cover maybe?

I encountered police activity as I drove around the neighborhood, but only for traffic incidents. That’s the Chicago I know. Boarded up buildings, sure, and empty lots. But nothing makes me feel quite at home like a coffee shop, and Kusanya Cafe is a really good one. Under the brick and distressed wood and retro tile, I eased happily into my coffee steam and a book.

Englewood is a place with a strong sense of community and a lot of hope. As the sign says, there is a sweet, sweet spirit in this place. Thanks to My Block, My Hood, My City, I finally made it down and met people leading tremendous community organizations, such as the Resident Association of Greater Englewood which is covering a lot of the needs in a community that has seen more school closures than any other.

I pity the Northsider who thinks certain parts of the city are closed off to them. There’s so much to see, you guys. Get out there.

Dream Cafe 748 W. 61st St. Chicago, IL 60621

The Driehaus is a pretty swell old house. Of the handful of preserved mansions I’ve seen in the Chicago area, this is probably the most impressive.

Wood paneling, marble, nice paintings? Yup, of course. What do those other houses not have though? A green, glass dome like a younger sibling of the Cultural Center’s Tiffany centerpiece. It’s worth the price of entrance alone and reaffirms that, yes, the rich really do get all the nice things.

The rich behind the Driehaus history are a chain of who-remembers from a bygone era of probably defunct industries. I mean, I could do my WIkipedia diligence, but I didn’t go into the Driehaus for a history lesson this time. I went to see the Downton Abbey dresses duh.

The mansion really was the perfect backdrop to showcase costumes from the just-ended Masterpiece Theatre series. It’s also a testament to how solidly built the TV costumes were--museum pieces in themselves.

Line it up TOURISTS. Don’t take a million years deciding what to order–look into your heart and ask: what greasy food do I most desire at this moment? Launch that arrow from your heart at the register and prepare to fall in love.

All this time I had been calling myself a Chicagoan and yet I had never been to Portillo’s. I confess this in front you, dear blog reader, and receive your judgement. In my defense, there is only one little ol' Portillo's in the entire city limits.

So I ventured through the funhouse mirror of Chicago Touristville to finally get my Portillo's fix. It’s like an indoor state fair but much more satisfying. There's multiple windows for ordering (confusing) and a cacophony of order numbers ringing out like a cattle call. They make you wait just long enough to anxiously CRAVE that hot dog. The Maxwell polish was tasty. Just the right balance of fat to meat in the sausage. The fries are acceptable. I’ve heard the chocolate shakes are amazing. And the ribs.

Look, you’re not coming here for something new. You come to Portillo’s for the American classics you already love, prepared in the most pleasing way possible. Isn’t that enough? Isn’t this swirl of stomach romance enough to put a smile on your face at least for a little while? The answer is yes.

There’s a mini stone fortress in the South Loop. It’s not that impressive to look at. Even from the time the Glessner House was built in 1887, neighbors were prone to throw shade at the edifice. George Pullman, of Pullman sleeping car fame, said, "I do not know what I have ever done to have that thing staring me in the face every time I go out of my door."

Not sure how the current neighbors feel, but my guess is that they didn’t move to the South Loop for aesthetics (ooo, relevant contemporary shade; consider it thrown).

Good thing for the Glessner House, the inside and the people that lived there are more interesting than the dreary grey morgue of the outside. The Glessners made their fortune with harvesting equipment. They were both great fans of the orchestra and staged many musical performances at their house.

My favorite room was the cozy, inviting library space where it’s said they spent most of their time. Mrs. Glessner held her ladies reading club here. She also liked to craft silver pieces, which you can see around the home.

Another family member of note was the Glessners’ daughter, Frances Glessner Lee (who just so happens to be my birthday twin--March 25, 1878). She was interested in forensic science and created the Nutshell Studies of Unexplained Death, a series of crime scenes in miniature.

The family spent a lot of time at their other home in New Hampshire, on an estate with open land around it and no immediate neighbors to comment on their style choices. I hope, and maybe I need to read Mrs. Glessner’s diaries to see this, that they still appreciated their Chicago fortress for the good and bad that city life can bring.

Sometimes you go across town to see an exhibit that you’ve heard about and sometimes an old lady who’s hosting an evening with some opera singers thinks her fine event gives her the right to bar you from the gallery. I looked at my nonexistent watch and told Ice Queen lady that her event was in two hours yet, and I just came to look at the exhibit. (Blog travel tip: check the schedule of events before you go!)

So...the Ukrainian Institute of Modern Art. The gallery curator was much more welcoming than Ice Queen lady. I didn’t get to see the permanent collection but I did look at the “Sentience” exhibit, which was well assembled. These were bold works using mixed media to make a statement. Like fallout baby Jesus by Marcos Raya here:

The far corner of the gallery hosted some bleeding eyeballs. This one’s by Tom Torluemke. I liked the sharp colors, the use of space. Maybe it’s a political statement? The strain put on the average person just by living in the world? Honestly, this is how TV news makes me feel sometimes. IDK help me interpret the art?

One entire wall was taken up by the mixed media piece by Stacia Yeapanis. This one included the artist’s statement, which helps people like me who aren’t so good at figuring out the art. It’s made from yarn, doggie bags, Netflix envelopes, cat food tins, corks, magazine pages, card stock, and CO2 cartridges. It’s called The Relentless Recurrence of the Present Moment and is influenced by her mediation practice and drawing from the “detritus of my life.” Loved the colorful crochet bits and the sense that I was standing at a hectic altar. Preach.

The urban cowboy lives, and he has expensive taste. This isn't my first time to the rodeo, but Western wear browsing in the heart of Chicago is quite a different thing from shopping the boutiques of Jackson Hole. This lifestyle is a commitment, with $300 boots and $50 shirts - it’s beyond my pocket book anyway.

You walk into Alcala's and you're greeted by row upon row of cowboy boots, but not before a helpful employee, who definitely looks like he must be part of the familia (an Alcala perhaps?) that runs this place, lets you know he'll help you with anything you need. The music vacillates between norteña and country western, a mix that feels perfectly correct.

The women’s area is small compared to the men’s - probably the only clothing-related store where you can say that. The first pair of boots that caught my eye were labeled "Old Gringo." Oh, gee! I also really dug a pair of red boots that were made of goat hide (but could I pull them off?). Every pair of boots is intricately hand-stitched, lists the material it's made of, and comes with a hefty price tag. Definitely the kind of place to get this kind of thing. If that's your thing. 

Some people go to church on Sundays. Some people go to laboratories to get blinded by science. Guess which one I would be? Okay, maybe that’s not such an obvious question because if I lie anywhere on the spectrum of religion to science it would be right smack in the middle. But I do like learning things. And I do like having something that would give me an excuse to drive to Batavia and check out Fermilab.

On the first Sunday of the month the facility hosts Ask-a-Scientist lectures which also include a tour. The session I attended was titled “Beyond Our Five Senses: How we know about the subatomic universe.” I learned a bit about how scientists can discover particles we cannot see and heard an awful lot about neutrinos. Still not sure exactly what those are.

The tour includes a walk around Wilson Hall which is primarily offices (I assume), a look at the theater with perfectly physics-atuned acoustics, and the accelerator area. We saw some old school-looking equipment, which is oddly comforting.

The facility owns 6,800 acres, a lot of it open to nature activities like bird watching and hiking. It’s also probably the best place in the Chicago area to see bison. It’s all part of Fermilab’s mission to be open to the community, which is something I can get behind.

DANK Haus was my final stop on the 2015 Open House Chicago (it was a long weekend y’all; it’s taken me three months to write about it!). German stuff goes on here. Language classes. Beer steins being emptied, probably. Maybe dancing with lederhosen?

According to the flyer, the building was originally erected as a hotel in 1927 but was purchased by the Deutsch-Amerikanischer National Kongress (DANK) in 1967 to house their Chicago North chapter and preserve and promote German culture, heritage, and language.

There’s nothing too remarkable about the interior. There is a really nice hall, with a full-scale bar area where many a bier has been and will be drunken. There’s a museum where you can learn things like the fascinating fact that Germans and Irish staged something called the “Beer Riots” in 1855 when the mayor of Chicago forced the bars to close on Sundays. One person died, so…probably not as fun as it sounds!

Many people come to the building for German language classes, but a smaller group comes for the Schlaraffia Club, a sort of social club. The room where they gather is basically owls everywhere, owls everywhere. Guess they’re into that (also, I think apparently schlaraffia means owl). An old man with a heavy accent told me to take this picture:

It seems fitting that Louis Sullivan, architect of many a Chicago landmark, would design his last building on a street tucked away in a neighborhood, that he would drag himself out of his alcoholic haze to make one more small-scale gift to the future and it would hide in semi-obscurity like he almost did in his death.

Luckily, he was tracked down to design the Krause Music Store in 1922, an edifice of green terra cotta that looks nothing like the buildings surrounding it. Yet, I passed this building so many times and never realized the connection to Sullivan.

Open House Chicago let people tour the first floor of the building, which now houses a design firm. But the main action can be seen from the street, all you have to do is pause to take a look.

Did you know that there are 0 American Indian reservations in the state of Illinois? I didn’t until I Wikipedia-ed it, as one does. This doesn’t mean the area is lacking in Native American population or influence. As anyone knows who’s lived in Chicago for a second, the name Chicago comes from the word native tribes gave to the stinky onion that grew (and still grows?) in the region.

To serve the native population in Chicago and the surrounding area, the American Indian Center was founded in the ‘50s. It serves as an all-tribes cultural center and is housed in a former Masonic lodge in the Ravenswood neighborhood.

The center hosts programs and events as diverse as the population it serves. There are pow-wows, school programs, outreach, and a robust archery program.

I got a nice tour of the building during Open House Chicago and made my first bullseye with a practice run on the bow and arrow. I think I might have to check out this archery program.

It’s that part of Chicago where you are so far east and so far south, the smoke stacks of Gary, Indiana, are closer than the skyline of downtown. Like many steel plants around the country, U.S. Steel South Works is no more. A plant that used to employ thousands is now bare fields and some concrete remnant.

It is now the site of the largest proposed future urban development in the country. 600 acres and everyone has ideas. At least Chicago Lakeside Development seems to have a smart strategy of measured and properly funded development. A Mariano’s is coming soon, so that’s got to be good, right?

The Open House Chicago tour took us on the grounds. There’s not much to see beyond what a dreamer’s eye can imagine. We did get to walk through the concrete barricade that workers harbored inside when the boats were loading material out the canal. That’s pretty much all that’s left standing.