Warning: this is going to be one of those not-necessarily-crafty, essay type posts.
There is something really special about Chicago.
Chicago is the proverbial middle child of large US cities. Some might consider this analogy only in reference to Chicago's geographic location (it's in the middle of the country). However, the analogy is multifaceted; like most middle children and like books between elaborate bookends, Chicago can sometimes be easy to overlook.
It is smart and genuine but always compared- for better or for worse- to its older and younger siblings: it's the less notorious but smarter sister to New York; it's the
less ostentatious but considerably more genuine sister to Los Angeles. It is breathtaking and beautiful and yet somehow caught in the blindspot of popular consciousness.
But, I wonder- like most middle children- if Chicago prefers to shy from the onerous and usually dysfunctional limelight of notoriety; I hypothesize that it is more than to content to be smart and genuine and breathtaking without attracting the attention that plagues those that are notorious and ostentatious.