Wednesday, January 25, 2006

A Bitter Day

In the summer time, when this city is blooming with scenery, the Chicago River sparkles like a milky emerald, its color the effects of mineral deposits. When struck by the warm-weather loveliness of the river, it is hard for me to imagine how contaminated its waters are. But today, on a cold gray day, the Chicago River looks sick and angry, inky black and oil-like, it’s shiny surface mirroring steely skyscrapers and rippling with the whipping wind. I shudder to see it looking like this.

For thousands of years, the river meandered through the marshes that were once on this stretch of Lake Michigan. According to historical documentation, its waters were often muddy and blue-gray, the result of the fertile silt that made up the river bed. And until 1900, when engineers reversed the flow of the river in order to preserve Lake Michigan--or rather, to preserve human’s ability to continue to enjoy and benefit from Lake Michigan without hosting another Cholera epidemic--the river ran where it pleased, where nature led it. I would have liked to have seen it, reflecting only the expanse of the sky.

Nowadays, the river is escorted through our city by vast concrete banks and an elaborate system of locks. And the sludge below its weary waters is a toxic cross-section of the industrialization of man.

But contrary to appearance, the old river is fighting and full of life. On this otherwise lifeless day today, it is churned up and dark and its icy waters are seeking revenge on the concrete containing it. Slowly but surely, it laps its icy fingers on the concrete and freezes, prying open tiny fissures in its barriers. Bits of the concrete crumble and fall to a watery burial. The Chicago River expands another inch, celebrating another tiny victory and I can’t help but be happy about it.


hucklebuck said...

Will you still remember me when your blog hits the bigtime and you're getting a 1,000 comments per entry?

Carrie said...

I'll probably be getting more than 1,000 comments per entry. And also I'll probably forget all you little peons. From then on out, it'll just be Paris Hilton (Pare), Lindsay Lohan (LiLo) and me (CBear)texting personal jokes to one another and showing our Doub D boobs to guys who wear D&G suit jackets with t-shirts and ripped jeans.

Sorry, but I believe in fate.

hucklebuck said...

You witch! Don't come crying to me then, when your sex tape with Tara Reid gets out and you become a D-list celebrity making occasional appearances on Last Call with Carson Daly to promote your new line of vagina weights. "Get strong down there, with CBear" and her advanced vaginal strengthening system. :)

You'll be ruined, ruined I tell you.

Hopefully by this time, I will have a pseudo Betty Ford clinic established, specifically for weary D-list celebs who are hanging on by a thread.

I'll reserve a room for you and we can spend the afternoons playing Connect Four as you mumble aimlessly while drooling into your coffee mug.............or not, you know, whatever.