Mar 29

Mar 29 Back to UnNormal

Chicago, Street, Urban Landscapes, Architecture

“Hello there my it’s been a long time
How am I doin’? Well, I guess that I’m doin’ fine
It’s been so long now but it seems now it was only yesterday
It ain’t it funny how time slips away”

— Funny How Time Slips Away, Willie Nelson (1961)

I received my second shot (Moderna) four weeks ago, so I have been out and about. At first, I felt a great weight lifted from my shoulders. Eating out; taking CTA buses and trains; shopping; getting a haircut for the first time in a year; seeing friends; and spending long hours walking the streets with my camera. As time has passed, however, I feel a bit off kilter; disconnected; uneasy.

One night last week, I saw a news report that 88% of those who worked in the Loop are still working from home, which explains why the Loop is empty during the day and so many restaurants and coffee shops are closed. Starbucks still only allows carry out, so I don’t have a place to sit and review photographs or think about current events during a break from pounding the pavement. Starbucks now is just a place where I pick up a late afternoon vanilla biscotti, and then return to the street, with falling crumbs providing a food source for the rats that roam unimpeded after midnight. When we think of a city, we envision a familiar skyline and the shapes of buildings, storefronts, lights, traffic and sirens, and alley passageways. We take the hordes for granted, but that is impossible to do in 2021.

Today, I headed to the Fulton Market District. When I moved to Chicago 28 years ago, this was where all the food wholesalers were located. By and large, they have moved elsewhere. The old brick buildings have been converted into high-end restaurants, condominiums, and boutiques. I last walked the streets of the District back in 2019. At that time, a number of old buildings were crumbling under the force of wrecking balls. Dust was everywhere as walls of concrete and drywall first tumbled downward. Then the debris was lifted upward and dropped into large dumpsters.

Time slipped away. The replacement structures are now complete and occupied, or more likely, ready for occupancy. I missed the iron and steel rising upward, as well as the the Prairie and Ozinga cement trucks rolling through the neighborhood with their wet mix spinning. As Dylan sang long ago, “Lost time is not found again.”

Whether the Loop will recovery is hard to say. A recent article in the Washington Post reported that workers will return to downtown offices, but maybe only for three days a week, with people working from home the other two. It reminds me of casual Friday, which after a decade became casual 24/7 unless you were a lawyer appearing in court or you had an important meeting with a client who demanded formality. But if the Post is correct, I would not be surprised to see a significant percentage of retail and restaurant spaces that had supported the needs of downtown workers close.

There is lots of talk about people moving out of cities. I am not at all convinced that prediction will come to be. The Fulton Market District is one reason I have my doubts. At 3:30 in the afternoon, many of the restaurants, bars, and cafes were hopping; well at least to the extent that the 50%-capacity limits makes for a hopping cafe or bar. The District has become a residential hub. I suspect that many of the folks who office in the Loop are working from their Fulton Market homes, which would explain why, on one of the first 60-degree days of 2021, the streets were crowded. Might as well enjoy the nice weather, because when you are working from home, you can work at night to make up for a few hours of relaxation during the day, assuming you have no scheduled calls or Zoom interactions.

As jarring as my walks have been, I still enjoy the light (and shadows) always lurking in an urban environment. There is nothing like the late afternoon sunlight racing down the east-west corridors, resulting in the glass facade of one building illuminating another building that would otherwise be dark because it faces east. There is nothing like shimmering light and backlit scenes; blinding light to the west and highly saturated, complementary colors to the east.

After taking it all in for five hours, I headed to the L for the train ride north. The day was not over yet. Elevated above ground, the light from the setting sun burst through the acid-etched windows of the train car, creating retina-burning beams that bathed the view east in richly warm light. While the lack of passengers was at first unsettling, the view out the window served as the perfect distraction.

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