If you're not from around here, you might not know there is an island within the city limits. It has magnificent bridges running across it, I love the one at Division Street, with street names like Crooked and Hooker. One of the saddest and most vivid memories I have was when I was with old pal Joe from Hometown. We were kinda just driving around on our way someplace else, we made a turn, and there in the parking lot was a homeless guy washing his socks in a muddy puddle. It was maybe thirty degrees outside. The guy didn't even look up at us, I just remember the way he wrung out those socks so hard, like he was strangling someone.
4 comments:
a harsh life. and yet with the need to clean himself. Even slightly. sigh!
"...like he was strangling someone."
Maybe, in his mind, he was.
What I recall about my one visit to Chicago (other than the hideous traffic), was that I thought from the lay of the land that I was in the low country of the Deep South. It just kept reminding me of the coast of SC or GA. And I was subconsciously confused until I recalled that I was in land that drained down to a series of lakes as big as an ocean.
Exactly what I was thinking HM. Perfect way to word that Wayne.
I didn't know about that island, and the bridge architecture does look awesome.
Memories of Goose Island. In 1957 I worked after school at the Wonder Bread Baking facility on Goose Island. I helped out a couple of women lab techs. Still remember the smell of baking bread from the huge ovens. Thanks, Wayne
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