Can't Wait to Love the Eye

(Photo by Nancy Stone/Chicago Tribune)

Oak Park artist Tony Tasset just finished installing his "Eye" sculpture in Pritzker Park at the corner of State and Van Buren in Chicago.

I already love the Bean and the nearby fountains over on Michigan Avenue -- I can't wait to love the "Eye"!

Get more info at ChicagoNow.com.

It Happens Every Year

Every year in the tidy little suburb northwest of Chicago in which I live we have at least two fabulous parades: Memorial Day and the 4th of July (or the 2nd, 3rd or 5th, whichever is most convenient). We have two large high schools in our town, and the school marching bands get to take turns “headlining” the parades.

The parades are great without fail: we always have boy scouts, fire trucks, tumblers, the VFW, the Corvette club, wagons with bunting, the local church rock band, bicycles with flags, and at least one of the area martial arts academies always participates. Shriners, snowplows, school busses, dogs with bandanas, and political candidates abound. The parade always takes at least an hour to pass you, no matter where on the route you’ve set up your folding chair.

And every year without fail, one of the most reliable parts of the event is the five-to-ten minute gap in the middle caused by a train.

You see, we live in one of the many towns that sit astraddle the Union Pacific / METRA railway line that shoots out of Chicago straight as a string headed northwest. The only area in town big enough to form up this fantastic spectacle is on one side of the tracks, and the only park that is both big enough to contain the “Hometown Fest” carnival and adjacent to an area large enough to set up the firework cannons safely is on the OTHER side of the tracks. So every year the parade gets stopped by a train.

It’s easy to pick out the newbies and out-of-towners because they stand up and crane their heads to look back along the route, asking, “What happened? Is it over? Is that the end?” while the locals watch them with a smile and prepare to settle down for the second half. Hometown folks are used to it-- most regard it as kind of a “seventh-inning stretch” or intermission-- a chance to stand up and move around, visit the Porta-Potty, or step inside quickly for another cold beer.