my kind of town

Today I took the youth group to Chicago for a day to hang out and see the city. Though I couldn’t (and wouldn’t) live there, I can’t help but love visiting.

We rode the train, which is quite the experience. If you ever want to see a cross section of the population, and be entertained at the same time, take the Metra. I think an Einstein look-a-like even sat below me for a while. We walked to Water Tower Mall, had lunch at the overpriced cafeteria, shopped a little and made our way to Millennium Park. Of course we took pictures by the Bean and then some of the students cooled off in the Crown Fountain (or the face/tower/water thing).

For me, visiting the city is an opportunity to be reminded that the world is bigger than the small bubble that I live in. I’m reminded that there are people less fortunate than I am. I’m reminded that some people are more fortunate (much more fortunate) than I am. I’m reminded that there are a LOT of people in the world. I’m reminded that I don’t walk a lot everyday. I’m reminded that some people have fashion sense and some don’t (i.e. the teenage girl wearing the dress and Uggs). I’m reminded that I work with incredibly funny, engaging students who only occassionly act before they think ([unnamed junior higher] please do NOT walk on the ledge next to the 40ft drop!). I guess I’m reminded of how small I am. Which is humbling, yet causes me to wonder at the interest God would have in someone like me.

Anyway, because Chicago rocks so much I thought I’d end with one of Carl Sandburg’s poems about the city. It reminds me that there is Hope in a desperate and seemingly hopeless world.


COME you, cartoonists,
Hang on a strap with me here
At seven o’clock in the morning
On a Halsted street car.

Take your pencils
And draw these faces.

Try with your pencils for these crooked faces,
That pig-sticker in one corner–his mouth–
That overall factory girl–her loose cheeks.

Find for your pencils
A way to mark your memory
Of tired empty faces.

After their night’s sleep,
In the moist dawn
And cool daybreak,
Faces Tired of wishes,
Empty of dreams.

Author: erik

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  1. since when do you read poetry other than dr. suess?

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  2. I heard Dr. Suess was a code name for every poet in history. No I didn’t. ='[. Anyway, I liked the messege here. We forget about all the other people out there that we’ve never seen. We forget about the rich and poor. We realize things that we almost never think about. Well, at least for some one like me. I always feel like I am in a different world everytime I go down town.

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  3. Wow, a sentence in my previous comment didn’t make sense. lol ^___^.

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