Tag: nonfiction

Posted on

Submerged Rock (troll)

One of my favorite places in the whole damn world is Museum Campus on Chicago’s lakeshore, specifically the area around the Field Museum and the Shedd Aquarium.  On occasion, usually when the weather is good or I have time to kill or just feel the need, I’ll walk down along the walking and biking paths in the area, the ones that wrap down around the back of the aquarium, whose edges drop straight down into Lake Michigan.  Sometimes they’re closed off because of ice or because the waves on the lake are too high, making them dangerous to walk.  Sometimes even when they’re open, you’ll get sprayed by water from a freshwater sea that isn’t as the waves crash against the edge of these pathways.

It’s one of those places that I sometimes wonder if visitors ever think to wander along, or if it tends to be the provenance of locals, who bike along it in their lane, take their morning runs along the slanting walkways and the quiet that can come in those spaces, especially before the day really begins.  The view is really spectacular, even on misty days when the fog hangs heavy over the water and you can’t even see the park a few hundred yards away.  Of course, maybe I’m biased.  It is, after all, one of my favorite places, and I know that if I lived in the city I’d be there as often as I could be, convenience be damned.

Another point in favor of my eventually moving there, I guess.

Along one of those pathways are old warmings painted onto the pavement, telling passersby—and anyone who might consider jumping into the water—that there are submerged rocks in the area along the shore.  On the one hand, it seems silly that the warning would be needed.  It’s not a beach, not a swimming area, but there are certainly folks who fish along that pathway amongst the runners and the cyclists and wanderers.  The warning would be as much for them, who could lose a line in those rocks, or anyone who falls in or would-be rescuers.

Five years ago while walking the pathway, I snapped a picture of one of those warnings.  Someone with a sense of humor and a touch of whimsy decided to add a bit of extra flavor to one of those warnings.  I haven’t been back in the last year or so to see if it’s still there or if it’s been repainted, but it was still there a few years ago, the last time I was able to come down while the weather was good enough to wander down toward the water.

Spotted in the wild out on Museum Campus, behind the Shedd Aquarium

I’ve wondered since the first time I saw it—it’s been there for a lot longer than five years—about whoever painted the word “troll” onto that warning.  A college kid on a dare, a nerdy one out with friends?  High schoolers out for a laugh?  A creative with a penchant for a little bit of graffiti?

There’s a story behind it, one I know that I will never know.  Somehow, though, that makes it that much more interesting, that much more magical.  A touch of whimsy to the mundane, something that exists if you’re willing to find it.  That’s a little something we all need, now more than ever.  A little touch of magic to a gray, hard world.

So here’s to the magic makers and those who seek it—the ones that make joy and those who find pleasure in what’s been made.

Posted on

Review: A Furious Sky

I have a thing for learning about natural disasters. It’s something that I’ve discovered about myself over the years–there is something about the whole man versus nature and the events surrounding these experiences that is fascinating to me. As a result of this interest, I picked up A Furious Sky: The Five-Hundred Year History of America’s Hurricanes on Audible during one of their two-for-one sales and gave it a listen.

I got through the book in only a few stretches of time and probably could have listened to the whole thing in a day if I’d had the 10+ hours where I didn’t need to engage with other people beyond the perfunctory. On the audio end of it, it was well-produced and the narrator was very good with the material that he was presenting.

The actual content of the book, for me, was largely familiar territory, though there were some segments of the book that were new material for me. For those who have read or seen documentaries about the Galveston Hurricane, the Labor Day Hurricane, or the Long Island Express, these sections of the book will be very familiar and tell stories that you’ve heard before with very little variation from previous works. If you don’t know much–or anything at all–about these events, though, they offer a striking window into what the experiences of these storms were like. Information about some of the earliest recorded storms was very interesting, and the storms discussed in the mid- to late-twentieth century and beyond offered glimpses into these storms that went beyond the headlines and weather reports.

One of the most interesting aspects of the book was the coverage of how the science of hurricane prediction and the technology involved has evolved over time and continues to evolve. If anything, the book was a worthwhile listen for this information alone. The author, Eric Jay Dolin, is a scholar himself and has synthesized a lot of information into a (relatively) short piece on the subject.

All in all, a worthwhile listen. Definitely recommended to anyone with even a passing interest in the weather–and looking for a slightly heavier but still completely accessible beach read.