I recall on our last recreational nostalgia trip to Chicago--in which we actually stayed overnight in a hotel near the lake--as we were walking on the streets of Uptown, I was constantly going in and out of whiffs of raw sewage. I don't recall this on any other visits--but then again when I was in Cicago 32 years ago, there was so much industrial waste in the air that I doubt I would have noticed, if this smell was there.
I recall getting up in the morning--down near Children's Memorial, Lincoln and Fullerton, and finding large and very adherent black flakes on my car. This would have been around 1970; before I knew Flo existed.
She of course is a Chicago native and wouldn't have been surprised by anyone of this.
I also reflect that our new hospital is now a close neighbor of Del Monte Corp. and in the spring at the time of spring pea packing, there will arise such an odor as to take your breath away. On the other hand, when you have been in the midst of it for about 10-15 min. you don't notice it anymore. The olfactory warning and gustatory apparatus is quickly desensitized, faster than our other senses and more completely.
It has always amazed me that man is so hyper-adaptable that he can live in the foulest places and call it home. It may be dangerous, dirty, and self-destructive but we can learn to love--or ignore--that too.
It reminds me of the old joke about the young lord whose butler was guiding him home, as the young man was quite intoxicated, when he queried his caretaker, "What is that strange odor, Jeeves?"
"That, sir, is fresh air."
I have actually met people in Chicago who were afraid to go outside its city limits, as if they would be destroyed (like Lot's wife?) if they set foot even in the closest suburb. Well so be it but as one well-known but despised prophet said,
"Remember Lot's wife"
My wife and I had been living in the country for a couple of years when my parents informed us they were coming to visit on the way to see my sister. We made accommodations for them to spend a night at our place.
ReplyDeleteThe next morning as they were getting ready to continue on their trip my mother informed us how ill at ease she felt staying at our place for the night. The thing that caused her anxiety was how dark and quiet it was. We don't believe in those night lights that are so common in the country preferring the darkness that the country affords us.
The next time we visited their home I paid attention to what she thought was normal and safe. Their house is lit up by dozens of street lights and store fronts with their neon lights. There is hardly an hour that passes without some kind of siren passing the house and there is always traffic passing the house. What gave her solace we could not wait to escape back to our solitude and dark skies where you can see all the constellations.
Mom and dad never did stay the night again at our place in the country preferring to either get a motel in town or just dropping in during the day and continuing their journey come nightfall before the specters had a chance to appear.