The lakefront at dusk on Sunday.
Beth and I took an early fall walk to Lake Michigan yesterday evening. For us, that’s a few city blocks then the serpentine bike/pedestrian path and then we’re looking at the Shedd Aquarium, the Field museum, the Adler Planetarium and…the lakefront. Framed by the skyline. It’s an embarrassment of riches, but no apologies here.
For the two falls we spent on the Outer Banks of North Carolina, there wasn’t a lot of seasonal color on the beach. But we felt it. The change. Water still warm, beaches less populated, breezes that raised goose pimples, the sun warm but pinched. Fisherman casting on the beach instead of sun tanners and body surfers.
Right now back in Urbana, Ill., where Beth and I became Beth and I and, in a real way, Beth became Beth and I became me, I’m sure fall is spectacular. Not mountainous, but big ancient trees with roots that buckle sidewalks, and whose leaves turn crazy colors, making the quiet streets psychedelic tunnels.
Here in the city it’s different.
Or not.
The light slants against glass and steel and terra cotta and freshwater. The sun is warm but is soft. The lake is calm. The grinding violence of winter is near, but right now the sky’s pastel and the skyscrapers look like intentional works of art and not joints where you slog to work.
The Chicago White Sox just finished a baseball season, and they will not play games until next year. But they won 10 more than last year and I’ll wager they win 10 or more again next. They retired a player … a hero? A role model? I don’t know. Paul Konerko is just a good guy. There was a special celebration of his retirement at the game Saturday night, and we were there, and it was over the top and yes, I cried. All for a guy I don’t know, really, but somehow think I do after watching him for 16 years.
Everybody in professional baseball is talented—but not all work as hard at it as he did. He couldn’t run, he waddled like a penguin and he managed to hit a grand slam in game two of the World Series in 2005. Which the White Sox won in four games.
That was fall. And I remember it vividly. I will always.
I love fall.
Eloquent, Mike!
Sent from my iPhone
Thanks Carolyn, high praise coming from you.
Hello Mike and Beth, No need to just imagine Urbana – come and visit! A few trees are just now starting to tip into color. Plenty warm today but a cool front is coming. Harvest has not yet started but soon every farm field on the edge of town will be going after the corn and beans. Time to put some pumpkins on the porch. So are you coming, or what?
I think Beth has a thing in CU, will have to check. Hope it’s not too far in the future, nothing beats fall in Urbana.
You described September so beautifully……. and I agree that we could have heard more about Konerko’s retirement on the sports reports when all we heard about was Jeter’s retirement.
I think Konerko was worn out by it all, so I can’t imagine how exhausted by it all Jeter was. The crazy thing is that in the end, I think both of ’em appreciated it all, but would’ve been fine without the hubbub. Jeter did one of the short video tributes they played Saturday night, which was one of many really nice touches.
Mike,
I loved you description of Fall. Thanks. With a window that faces Lincoln Park I see one small tree turned red and another further West tinged with gold leaves, The foliage is so lush this year it will be a colorful sight when all has turned. red and gold and orange.
Have a good day. Monn a
Mike, I love how you open your paragraph on Urbana. After reading Beth’s book, “Long Time no See”, I realize how very much that one sentence means.
Mike , You are a brilliant writer and I love your Konerko take. Bottom line, he was constant in our lives. Constants seem to always bring tears. Missed seeing you yesterday. My family fell in love with Whitney and of course Beth
Thanks. BTW, you were a constant. Not kidding, one of the things that brings pride to a White Sox fan. You’re in Konerko class.
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