Nostalgia tapped me on the shoulder, and I took a trip to Chicago.
Our farm was near the village in Richard Peck's "A Long Way from Chicago."
Nostalgia tapped me on the shoulder, and I took a trip to Chicago. Since Lincoln had debated Douglas along the Sangamon River, my family had raised corn and soybeans in Central Illinois, but when I left for college, I never looked back. However, in my dotage, I’m getting sentimental, so I talked my is-there-any-other-city-than-NYC husband into a five-day trip.
It was May 1960 in the belly button of Illinois, and the sun was an orange half-circle on the eastern horizon when my 7th-grade class boarded a yellow school bus in Cerro Gordo, the village that inspired Richard Peck’s “A Long Way from Chicago.” We were Chicago-bound for the day, raring for adventure and looking forward to some world-class stars and dinosaurs.
I had very few clothes Mama hadn’t made, so I was particularly pleased with my new purchase from the Sears catalog, a yellow cotton boat-neck dress, pin-tucked from the bustline to below the waist. I wore my Sunday shoes, white flats, at age 12, no more Mary Janes for me, and a white cardigan, not too stretched out and with only a few bumpy pills. I was still getting Toni home permanents and had a shoulder-length “do” ending in a tightly-curled roll plus the signature bangs I had sported since my first haircut. As was the day's fashion, my glasses were shaped like the tailfins of a ‘57 Chevy.
I felt tres chic, so I wasn't surprised when David Hastings held my hand that afternoon during the movie at the Adler Planetarium, and the back of my neck turned hot. Oh, never mind. It was just a sunburn. SPF was not yet in the farmer’s alphabet.
The Adler Planetarium of this week’s visit was quite different. The stars hadn’t moved locations, but now the focus of the exhibits was space exploration, which had only begun after I graduated from Cerro Gordo High.
“Few things awe me more than a starry sky above me and the moral law within me.” Immanuel Kant 1724-1804
I felt like a bit of a fossil when I visited the Field Museum when the main, well, uh, fossil, was a T-Rex named Sue, discovered after I graduated college, but that didn’t quell the thrill of putting on VR glasses to experience her come so close I feared being swallowed
.
The Art Institute of Chicago has always offered the best of traditional Midwestern art, plus proof of the city’s leadership in public art, and a few international gems to boot.
My fancy was especially tickled by Toulouse Latrec’s “At the Circus” painted on a tambourine; the 16th-century statue of a young satyr wearing a mask, reminding me of some current politicians; Santiago Calatrava’s scaled model of his 30-ft Constellation that anchors Riverpoint Park; and a beautiful Chagall window. However, Grant Wood’s classic American Gothic has always fascinated me. Although the real models were Woods’ sister and dentist, they remind me of my Aunt Ida and Uncle George, she with tight lips and a sideward glance above a white-collared dress and ric-rack apron/smock, he with an unapologetic direct gaze, the pitchfork a reminder not to mess with him. In reality, they were kind and gentle and warm, but you wouldn’t have known that to look at them.
.
I could go on and on, and perhaps I will when I haven’t traveled all day and am longing to curl up in my own bed, but I urge you to savor a childhood memory and think about revisiting a special haunt from your past. Feel free to leave a comment.
You made me think of The American Museum of Natural History and the Hayden Planetarium in NYC (now the Rose?), where I spent time on trips with school, with other groups, with my parents, separately and with just myself. As a kid I loved geology: rocks and minerals, and the Hall of Gems was exotic and scholarly. I tried to memorize all the rocks and minerals.
The last time I was there, I was with my husband and son. And the time before that, I carried my mother's ashes -- I explained to the people checking my knapsack -- how she loved the museum. They let me in, no problem, as long as I didn't leave "her" there!
I'm glad you got to see your science museum!
Another wonderful story, Janice. Your directive to recall a past memory brought to mind my annual school trips to Kennywood Park in junior high where I was fascinated by the roller coaster, cotton candy, sounds of the carousel, and the large cups of buttermilk that was served from a stainless steel tanker truck. It was ice cold and was dotted throughout with large flecks of butter. I rarely drank the stuff, but never missed an opportunity to do so when I was in Kennwood Park.