Memories From The 61st Floor

So where the dickens does time go? I've heard it goes by pretty fast when you're having a good time. . .is life a good time? Considering the alternative, I'm inclined to say Yes.

Go back with me a few years - well, more than a few maybe, but I'll hit the start button on the Way-Back Machine and stop it at, let's see, there it is - 1969. I always called it the Summer of Love and even wrote a magazine article calling it that, but to some, it was 1968. Still others, 1967. Take your pick - find the year you found the most love in it and that's it.

I'm standing on the rooftop of Chicago's Marina City, 61 floors up. It's a warm day; my mom and I are with family friends enjoying a day of sightseeing. The Loop and its architectural icons are spread out in front of me - nothing can mar the pleasantness of the day. The sun is vibrant; you can almost taste the rays. Winds off the lake remind me to hang on to the guard railing around the edge of the roof as I look southward across the city. Many of the buildings taken for granted these days weren't even thought about in 1969; Sears may have had that big old tower at Jackson and Wacker on the drawing board, but they hadn't yet decided where to park the gift shop yet.

It was good to not have to worry about stuff. And I suppose what I encountered in later years would have scared the daylights out of me had I known about it then, but I didn't. Ignorance, it is said, is bliss.

I never dreamed that ten years from that summer afternoon that I would have a three year old running around, riding my back, and playing out in the backyard. That three year old is now a wife and mother with a toddler of her own, soon to be two in August.

Grandparenting, yes, I can deal with that.

By 1981, we had a son. The kid that played with trucks in the sand at the park is within a week of acheiving a Master's Degree in Music Performance. What a blessing both of them have been, each bringing to life their individuality and gifts.

In 1969, looking out over a troubled Chicago (there were no Good Old Days in Chicago*), I'm far removed from even considering the parenting possibility. It just isn't in my vocabulary, but almost three decades later, I'm good with it. Our children have turned out to have full, rich, lives of their own. They're studious and focused, which is more than I ever was at their ages. I might add that a public recognition of my son-in-law is appropriate at this time. So, with all due fanfare, I include accolades to Van - he's a good husband and provider for our daughter and granddaughter and we love him.

There are times I wish I could go back to the Summer of 1969. I've often thought I would have spent more time on the rooftop gazing into the electric blue sky and enjoying the summer haze that settled down on the city like a new, colorful comforter on a bed. I would have listened for the sounds of traffic from the streets, maybe took a few (a FEW?) more photos from the roof and included shots of those big WLS Channel 7 television antennas that lit up day and night and could be seen from just about everywhere in the Loop.

But, I didn't.

Okay, there are a few regrets from that time, but not enough to make a big issue out of. Life viewed from the 60th floor is OK, but sooner or later the elevator takes you back down to street level where live is lived. I share a commonality with others who are raising or have raised their kids and are moving on to the next phase of life, whatever that may be. Life wasn't simpler back then at all - it just seemed that way. And why not enjoy the times - Dex Card, Ron Riley, and Clark Webber were eating up the airwaves on WLS AM 890 with 50,000 watts of sound and a 45 RPM single cost a buck. I'm all for digitally remastering the vintage recordings, but vinyl is still pretty cool and pretty cheap.

It's a good life. My wife, my kids, my granddaughter are all around! It's the place to be. I just wonder what's going on up on that roof, 61 floors above reality, these days.

*- Chicago author and radio personality Studs Terkel authored a series of oral histories titled "Division Street: America" (1967). He talked to all kinds of people about Chicago, life (in and out of the city), war, rumors of the Bomb, high prices, education, working; actually he just let people ramble from one thing to another. A real bit of Americana. Great reading; I have a signed copy. Never once, though, did anyone talk about how peaceful Chicago was in the late-1960s. If you put out of the mind the west side race riots, Chicago '68 and the Democratic National Convention, well, maybe it was peaceful, but the coldness of reality has a way of sneaking up behind you.