I�m settling into the idea of teaching in a few weeks. I�ve ordered my books and my web page. I still need to submit my reserve reading requests and my course packet order and revise the syllabus. I�ve even planned out my commute. I�ve still got two one-mile walks between modes of transportation on one leg of my commute (this time it�s on the way home) and I�ve been trying to figure out how to make it less painful, especially given that I�ll be teaching into December when the weather is a lot less friendly than it was when I taught last spring. And I have to admit, there�s one thing I�ve been eyeing: Heelys. The Boy Next Door (aka The Girl Next Door�s big brother) who is 9 has a pair and I have to say that I�m a little jealous. I love the idea of a pair of shoes that you can walk in but then you can also skate. But then I have to remember that I�m a lecturer at a prestigious university, almost a PhD and nearly 40. I�m guessing that Heelys lack the gravitas befitting my station in life. Still, they would make my commute if not actually easier, at least a lot more fun.

* * * * *

Yesterday evening, the harriet household decamped en masse for the big city of Chicago. With one false start, involving a missing blankie discovered 30 minutes from home and requiring a turnaround, we made it downtown with enough picnic baskets to cover a suitable amount of territory on the Great Lawn of Millennium Park to hear a concert by the Grant Park Symphony. It was the first performance I�ve seen in the new bandshell (now a few years old). When AJ was a baby, we used to spend a lot of time on the lawn of the Petrillo bandshell a couple of blocks south. But the new shell, like every other aspect of the park, is spectacular. Its jagged steel edges, which reflect the rainbow lights, peel back from the stage revealing a warm wood frame around the musicians. The sound system is far superior to the old arrangement. The steel lattice that offers the barest outline of a room, frames stars and buildings and makes you feel more like you�re in a concert hall. My only complaint is that the lawn is sufficiently smaller from the old space that there is no longer room for playing catch with wiggly boys at the back.

The park was busy in every corner. I remember shortly after I first moved to Chicago, used to living in cities like New York and London, I went downtown with a friend to see a symphony concert. The streets of the area were deserted at 6:30 on a Saturday night. There was nowhere to eat. We ended up eating at a bar and going home immediately after the concert. The east side of the Loop is a very different place since Millennium Park opened. We drifted away from the concert a little early and headed towards the Crown fountains (which most of us call the Face Fountains). We found an amazing cross-section of the city � all ages, races, religions and economic levels were represented either watching or wading into the reflecting pool. Scores of children who�d had the foresight to wear bathing suits were standing under the waterfalls off the sides of the fountain. More children, soaked to the skin, were running races back through the reflecting pool between the faces. While my husband watched the picnic baskets, AJ and I took off our shoes and splashed around in the cold water and stared up at the star-speckled sky.

We hated to leave, but AJ was yawning his face in two, so we returned to the car and he was asleep before we hit the expressway. We drove home without speaking, listening to the oldies station and lip synching our way through Aretha Franklin and Elvis tunes. As we neared the river near our home, we saw the huge yellow moon hovering above the horizon. It looked close enough to touch, close enough that you could see a person waving from its surface. I glanced into the back seat to check on AJ, our resident moon expert, but he was passed out in his car seat, his head slumped to the left, plumping out his left cheek in a reminder of his babyhood, not long past.

5 people said it like they meant it