CONCEPT
COMMENTS:
– I didn’t write on Friday… didn’t write on Friday.
– On Thursday night, Jess came over for a visit. We had a hot chicken recipe for dinner, and talked until mid-late (about eleven). I didn’t stay up very late that night…
– On Friday, I left work a little after one, rode home, took a much needed nap (because my sleep had been cut short all week) and woke up just before four. I packed, Sam got home, he packed, and we both rode the 147 downtown. We transferred to the METRA and rode it about twenty miles further to the Gary Airport. There, we met Lisa and her father, who drove us out onto the tarmac, loaded us into his 1979 Tiger (grounded temporarily due to a helicopter helixing all the local air), and launched us up off lake Michigan. I managed to take some nice pictures of Gary and most interestingly the peninsula owned by Ispat Inland Steel. It’s completely invisible and seemingly unimportant to those of us who only travel by rail and car, being a roadless thrust of industry over one mile wide, angling about two miles into the lake, but the shape it created from our perspective was striking: lake, Ispat, lake… the distant skyline. More photos to post when I get the chance, if you even believe me anymore.
Despite my (mild) fear of heights and experience with the bumpiness of single-engine airplanes, the ride was smooth and uneventful. The cockpit was roughly the size of a very small sports coupe (we had considerably more legroom in Lisa’s compact ride back on Sunday), and Sam and I were perched in the back but our knees near our chins and clutching our overstuffed backpacks.
The air hot gotten hazy as Chicago drifted into the distance and, due to a combination of humidity and glare from the sunset, we had just lost Chicago when the shoreline ran unambiguously north, and we headed out over Michigan.
One thing that was additionally remarkable about our altitude (about 8,000 feet) was the particular perspective on cities below. They seemed mighty and sprawling, but we were just small enough and distant enough that by taking in the whole panorama, we encompassed many distant cities at once. During the most remarkable moment, one that represented for me entire afternoons spent in the car, we drifted north of Lansing, and as we did so, saw Flint and Saginaw glittering in the distance ahead, with Grand Rapids and Kalamazoo fading into the twilight behind. It made Michigan feel as very small place.
We landed smoothly at Saginaw International, rode out to Lisa’s (where Sam and Lisa’s dad tooled around with a Hammacher Schlemmer toy robot), and then Lisa lent us her car so she wouldn’t have to drive us down to Genesee. Sam dropped me off at home, then headed onto Flint. My parents and I picked up a pizza, and my mother and I stayed up late talking.
– On Saturday, I was woken up at about nine thirty, and we drove down to Miller road to run several errands, including a stop at Borders. Later, my father and I went to downtown Flushing for lunch at Skips and pool, I took (another) nap… a forty-five minute nap that lasted two hours. And made dinner for my parents. Lime Shrimp and Balsamic Tomatoes. Lisa had been separated from her car, and we were going to take photos in Flint the next morning, so I drove up to Saginaw to pick her up. We felt like conversation, so we drove the long way home, and Sam called, and we stopped at the Starlite for coffee and a coney. We decided on the Starlite by decided to go somewhere scuzzy that was nevertheless not Angelo’s. We got home a little after two.
– On Sunday, I didn’t have an alarm, and was still tired, so I missed Mass the next morning. I woke up around nine, and Lisa and I left around ten, picking up Sam, and heading toward the Flats. We parked at the White Horse in, and spent the next two hours taking well over two hundred photos. Most of these were concentrated upon the vacant industrial complex (wedged up against Fenton road, between Court and I-69, and set back from Thread creek a ways). This urban exploring was legal by a technicality; while the land is doubtless private property, there’s nothing posted by way of trespassing warning, nor are there any artificial barriers blocking entry. One literally walks in and out. That said, there’s known to be unpleasant surprises in this place sometimes, and so I was glad to have the company. We also photographed the creek, the hills, the Court St. overpass, and the neighborhood itself (one of my favorites in the city). All this will appear on my Professional Website, which I will debut in the next month.
After photographing, Sam had gone home, but Lisa and I moved onto the Atlas for breakfast at lunch. We returned to Flushing, I reviewed my photos, and took yet another nap. For dinner we ate chicken and potato salad, and Sam picked us up in Lisa’s car. We drove back to Chicago, and spent the latter half of the trip introspecting and scaring ourselves with various stories of our experiences. I got home about elevent, and was not up late.
CHICAGO NEIGHBORHOOD OF THE DAY
Avondale.
WORD OF THE DAY
Tarmac.
NEWS OF THE DAY
New York Times: Top Cardinal Extols Catholic Doctrine as Conclave Begins.
PICTURE OF THE DAY
Flint. http://www.ai-studio.com/jason/.
QUESTION OF THE DAY
Where were you in ’85?