The shoreline in the south loop of Chicago is marked by a concrete walkway that spans the perimeter of Museum Campus, smoothly curving around the Shedd Aquarium and Adler Planetarium. It makes for a nice, long walk that puts you as close to the ocean in Chicago as you can get without hopping on a plane to either end of the country. If you walk along there in the morning, you will pass a community of joggers and dog lovers. You'll witness ducks and geese pecking at moss covered rocks and diving for water. I have yet to see a fish jump, but am sure it will happen some day.
Today, near the bend by Adler, a man and whom I will assume were his teenage sons, were gearing up for their morning fishing expedition. Watching them reminded me of my own Dad and brothers on one of their many fishing outings, when they would leave before dawn and come back smelling of crappies and night crawlers. The dad in today's exhibit was the first to cast and trolled the coastline for the target of the day. The boys, being amateurs compared to their old man, were busy untangling their lines and selecting bobbers. The man called back to his sons to indicate that he had spotted the mother of all fish, his outstretched arms noting the size of this Loch Michigan Monster. The boys called out an approving, "Oh, wow!" and then went back to their fidgeting. To themselves, they got a good chuckle out of their crazy old man. Little do they know that they will grow up to be just like him. Only others will see it long before they do.
It's striking how similar we are in this world separated by coastlines, prairies and urban terrains. A friend once remarked that she noticed how interested I am in beautiful things. As a dedicated people watcher I sort of have to be. Watching people is watching life, and life, as they say, is beautiful. And some themes are the same no matter where you go. A rain drop in a child's palm is met with just as much excitement and curiosity in Paris as it is in Chicago. A smile and nod go just as far in Poland, as they do in Illinois. And the loss of a loved one hurts just as much in other countries as it does in the States.
Though words may separate us, the language of human nature is universal.
Kind of like fishing.
Today, near the bend by Adler, a man and whom I will assume were his teenage sons, were gearing up for their morning fishing expedition. Watching them reminded me of my own Dad and brothers on one of their many fishing outings, when they would leave before dawn and come back smelling of crappies and night crawlers. The dad in today's exhibit was the first to cast and trolled the coastline for the target of the day. The boys, being amateurs compared to their old man, were busy untangling their lines and selecting bobbers. The man called back to his sons to indicate that he had spotted the mother of all fish, his outstretched arms noting the size of this Loch Michigan Monster. The boys called out an approving, "Oh, wow!" and then went back to their fidgeting. To themselves, they got a good chuckle out of their crazy old man. Little do they know that they will grow up to be just like him. Only others will see it long before they do.It's striking how similar we are in this world separated by coastlines, prairies and urban terrains. A friend once remarked that she noticed how interested I am in beautiful things. As a dedicated people watcher I sort of have to be. Watching people is watching life, and life, as they say, is beautiful. And some themes are the same no matter where you go. A rain drop in a child's palm is met with just as much excitement and curiosity in Paris as it is in Chicago. A smile and nod go just as far in Poland, as they do in Illinois. And the loss of a loved one hurts just as much in other countries as it does in the States.
Though words may separate us, the language of human nature is universal.
Kind of like fishing.