(I wrote this on October 13th, 2020. It was the last Tuesday that I called Chicago the place I worked in.... after over 30 years on the trading floor)
I walked across the Loop after the close today... the autumn sun angling down on the empty streets. The boarded up and vacant storefronts covered with prearranged graffiti. The bright lights on the Berghoff sign were off and the curtains drawn across the large windows.
State Street...that great street littered with garbage and derelicts in the late afternoon daylight. Chicago squad cars at every intersection rolling their Chicago Blue strobes.
“I’m not going to let this bother me!”
I turned onto Wabash Avenue to more shuttered storefronts and then I let it bother me.... The lights on Miller’s Pub were off. I still didn’t believe it was closed until I pulled on the door handle and it didn't open.... now I was sad!
I walked north as the elevated trains rumbled above my head. I walked by a deserted Palmer House as tears filled my eyes. The Pittsfield building to the north stood out as memories of countless Saturday breakfasts with my mommy and daddy filled my heart. I'd do anything to have breakfast with my parents.
I jaywalked across the street under the tracks and walked into the boarded up door of Iwan Ries. The hard marble staircase up to the second floor was small and covered with dust. The same flight that I took with my dad to get cigars. It once was such a grand trip holding my dads hand.
I smoked my farewell cigar as I walked back across the city on Monroe towards the river. The river was quiet as a half filled boat of tourists passed underneath.... I stopped and waved to them.
I daydreamed that I heard the tour guide say, “that’s the last of the trading floor greats up there puffing his cigar!” Actually I'm just a lucky guy who had a Journeyman career at the Chicago Board of Trade.
It was 2:15 and the "Empire Builder" was leaving on time crawling loudly beneath Union Station. I can see it through the opening along the river.
I’m not going to get my last couple cocktails at Miller’s before I leave for the suburbs... I look back through the train window as the Metra heads west. The bright sun shining off the skyline hides the pain underneath the shadows.
The pain of a urinated sanctuary long forgotten in the months since Covid shut it down.....
I was born here, I worked here and I’ve lived here. This wasn't the way I planned on leaving. No Hoopla! No cocktail party! No confetti falling from the rafters of the Bond Room.....
Now this can only happen to a guy like me and only happen in a town like this.... always will be My Kind of Town!
