I remember old, green copper and concrete lighthouses,
Green algae seaweed patched concrete water level lighthouse bases,
Water-worn wooden posts standing at angles in front of them
We floated past on the Chicago River tour boat that afternoon
They render in my mind more than
the iconic Chicago skyline,
the angular, massive, stainless-steel Jay Pritzker Pavilion in Millennium Park,
the Aquarium,
The Sears Building we went up in to the observation floor,
The Green Mill Speakeasy where Al Capone used to hang,
As does the folk art that covered the walls on all three floors in The House of Blues
A shrine, it seemed
I remember one set depicts images of folk shot with bullet holes, bleeding
Every folk in the paintings shot, in that African-American artwork’s neighborhood
I remember the second-floor stage with nine world religions symbols across and above it
Symbols captured in language in the central iconic image above the stage
UNITY IN DIVERSITY
ALL ARE ONE
The burning heart on the ground-floor stage curtain
Iconography like the Catholic Sacred Heart
(Yes, I remember, too, the disappointing blues band there in iconic Chicago)
Taking home rather the impression of a visit to a shrine
As does a black man at Buddy Guy’s who remembered me from The House of Blues last night
Joined us at our table tonight, with funny jibes, japes, and jabs
While his wife smiled and shook her head sometimes
As does the personal appearance of Mayor Lori Lightfoot on the 4th of July
At an outdoor concert in the Jay Pritzker Pavilion in Millennium Park early evening
Seeing her more memorable than the event itself
And now in Canada we see Mayor Lori Lightfoot on TV and smile at each other
(Maybe the free Picasso “Untitled” in Daley Plaza)—Carol liked it perhaps the best
Of course, I remember the patient, eager, hour’s wait to get into the Art Institute of Chicago
Paying extra for a special exhibit I now forget
Waiting in line to just view certain paintings:
“Arrival of the Normandy Train, Gare Saint-Lazare,” by Monet
“American Gothic”
And me being the only one in a whole exhibit room of early Christian art
(Part of me is glad that the proximity of religion
Hasn’t let Christian art be considered art in the same sense as Monet’s Impressionism)
Carol and I talk about what we remember
We talk about the trip
Things that meant, what Chicago meant
Chicago meant
David Fekete 