Next phase of this fouled up and late edition of our trip.------Tommy had given us superior insider directions on how to get out of Chicago - a simple way. I think he was being kind to his mother and apparently had heard about my driving talents. Now although Chicago certainly has its share of major highways and interstates, it needs them. It has millions of tons of freight that passes around, through and into it as well. The “working city” as Studs said of the third largest US city.(Although they still haven’t changed the name of the Second City Comedy Club and theatre.) On our way into Chicago, we got into to a traffic jam which was probably less than five miles long but it took nearly an hour and half to get through it. In an attempt to miss that experiences going out, Tom gave us his secret directions through the western suburbs - their traffic and red lights. I initially thought he was getting even with me for some recently unearthed but previously repressed memory, but driving through the “burbs” allowed us to see the horizontal layers of Chicago’s ethnic infusion. Initially the commercial warehouses with various European family names, proudly displayed even if in the need of repainting followed by Afro-American communities and their kids and shops touting groceries, clothing and music then the more recent Hispanic community with their bilingual signs, artistically shaven young men, kids and omnipresent religious respect for the virgin of Guadalupe. Each reminded me of calm ocean waves, which brought the newest American to this place , after the previous waved settled in.to the shore.
Oh well enough of my “Ain’t it a Great Country” social philosophy along with the fact that three my Grandparents and one of Lynn’s were also waive riders. Onward to Iowa!
As we left the urban areas of northern Illinois, it was amazing. Farms - no, not just pretty little “Grandma’s Farms”, these were enormous and flat. Oh there were farm house and building and silos but there were miles between these signs of the presences of humans. As we spoke, Lynn noted that it was easy to see why folks that came from this kind of life style and environment were believers in hard work, starting early and ending late as compare to those who support and/or receive the benefits of socially concerned program in the cities. In the farm belt, you work to eat, to live and it appeared to be real hard work.
I found it interesting that although there were acre after acre, nothng was actively being grown. There were miles and miles of corn stalks that had been cut with in a foot or so of the soil, and the rest of the stalk was left in the field after the corn had been picked last fall. I am guessing that the corn farment were still no assured that ther would not be another freeze to damage any new crop, if they were planted “just a little bit to early”.
By the way Northern Illinois has an unusual procedure, they do a road side census. No really, as we were buzzing along, one of these census takers, as I call them, encouraged us to pull over and respond to some questions like -.“Did you know that you were going 82 mph? Is there a reason for not going the posted 65 mph? Did I have a valid driving license? Was the address on my license, my present address?” Actually there were other questions but I can’t remember all of them but at the end of his census, the local official gave me a certificate. Really, a certificate, which by the way he told me that not all visitors with out of state license get. I guess coming from Florida and all. What is odd is that although we received this special certificate, I have to send it back in a month with a check, I guess that the state of Illinois is not doing to well financially since they don’t have enough certificate for others and need some public charity from we “outer staters“! Actually the “census taker” made a suggestion that he would taken cash to help us out since he knew how troublesome it might be to sent as certifies or cashier’s check. I thought that that was a kind sentiment but told him not to worry, I’d do it first things when we got home. What a sweetheart, huh? (This is not a joke - it happened!)
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