Scratch Cycles

I walked out from the eastern terminus of the Chicago Riverwalk on a drizzly, dreary Saturday afternoon, just a few days after St. Patrick’s Day. This is conveniently also the eastern terminus of the Chicago River, sometimes incorrectly referred to as the mouth. Since the river flows out of Lake Michigan, this is actually the source of the river, although this has not always been the c ase. The river used to be very different.  Just south of the river is DuSable Harbor. I’ve walked by this harbor many times over the years, and I was well aware that there was a harbor there, but I had never actually noticed or remembered the name. In the winter, almost no boats can dock on Lake Michigan, so DuSable Harbor was completely empty except for a few Coast Guard vessels. Between reflecting the overcast sky and shallow littoral waters, the water was a vivid, cerulean blue. It almost seemed fake, like someone had dyed it that color, but I can’t imagine why they would do that.  I’d come downtown s

Graceland is still decorated the same as it was the day Elvis died.  The foyer and front dining area are bright. White carpets cover the floor. The walls are just barely beige and textured. A piano and multiple TVs are a distressed ivory. White furniture fills out the room. It’s overwhelming on its own, but all the more shocking because of the colorful stained glass peacocks demanding focus. They welcome you into the house, and tell you that this is a place worth visiting.  Shag carpet and ornately draped fabric adorn the walls in dimly lit, darkly colored rooms toward the rear and basement of the house. They create a cool, relaxing atmosphere that invites you to stay a while, to sit, and rest, and probably have a cigarette.  You can’t stay too long, though.  The front room a pool room in the basement Tours get ushered through Graceland quickly. There’s a museum across the street where you can take your time and learn more about Elvis’s life, music career, car collection, and even chec