Well my bride of 35 years hath done it again. Last week she took me to Washington, so we could escort nieces and nephews around our great national memorials.
This week we're in Chicago, while she attends a Nurses' conference.
While we were walking along Michigan Ave yesterday, I thought about Mama Cass.
because she had sung that song back in the day. . . Words of Love, which contains these lines:
"Worn out phrases and warning gazes won't get you where you want to go;
if you love her, you must send her somewhere where she's never been before."
This love strategy is appropriate to my wife and me, but in a reverse kind of way, because she is the one who takes me places!
Sunday morning, I had awakened in our home and made some coffee, then sat in my usual comfy spot to begin a day of reading and writing (which I cannot generally do for five days out of every week because of work.)
My comfy home-working spot is a chair by the living room window, which affords me a quaint view of our back deck and back yard. It usually looks something like this:
But yesterday, after we checked into the Burnham in Chicago, this was my window view:
What a difference! Talk about literary inspiration! Chicago! Carl Sandburg rattling in my brain.
So today, Tuesday she will be attending her professional confab, while I amble over to Grant Park and pursue some groundwork for the new novel. The story, as it appears now in my mind, begins in Grant Park. That's where, on August 28, 1968, some events took place that made an indelible mark on my generation. I'll have more to say about that in three or four years after the book is finished.
Meanwhile, a couple of pics may indicate where this thing is headed, at least for its first part:
King of Soul