NOW
I left my glasses in Wrigley Field.
Capitalize it with quotation marks and it reads like a Tony Bennett song.
"I Left My Glasses in Wrigley Field." Just add a mournful twinkling of piano keys and brushes on a snare drum.
Well, maybe not.
Anyway, this is not the minor catastrophe it may appear to be. While it made focusing on home plate a little difficult from my seat in the left-field bleachers for Tuesday night's Cubs-Phillies game, I needed a new prescription anyway and had been putting it off for months.
I think this was just Harry Caray's way of telling me to make an appointment with my optician.
THEN
I experienced sensory overload during my four days in Chicago. From the sweet fragrance of mustard-slathered hot dogs at Wrigley Field to the clickety-click of horseshoes on asphalt of a Hansom cab on Michigan Avenue to the unmitigated roar of an "L" train around The Loop, I absorbed it all. I cruised around this magnificent city with the windows rolled down -- which should be the rule when the weather's warm and a gentle breeze is blowing off Lake Michigan.
But if I had to pick my favorite sound or smell of the trip, it would be that of beer bottles clinking another toast and the sound of sisters I had known since kindergarten but hadn't seen in 30 years laughing and laughing and laughing, as if time had stood still or didn't matter.
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