By Danny Johnson
MTW contributing writer

During the middle of the seventh inning in many professional ballparks around the country, it is tradition to join in the singing of the song Take Me Out to the Ballgame. On July 18th my dear wife, Carrie, and I were singing that song at the mothership of the song itself: Wrigley Field, the home of the Chicago Cubs.

Carrie had never been to Chicago before, and the last time I was there (some nineteen years ago) I was surrounded by three police cruisers and had five, count ‘em, five, service revolvers fully loaded and pointed at my personage. That’s a story for another day; for now, I’ll just say I did receive an apology from the officers in question.

Anyway, without much more than a handful of AAA maps and a couple of online brochures I printed out, we started for The Windy City on Tuesday the 17^th.

One of my literary heroes, the late Lewis Grizzard, a proud Southerner, who for a three year stretch was the Sports Editor of the Chicago Sun-Times, used to dog Chicago every chance he got. He said the only good thing to ever come out of Chicago was the southbound lanes of Interstate 65. I know he did all that shtick for his primarily southern-oriented fan base. But as I was cruising up the northwest part of Indiana, an area flatter than any pancake you’ll drown in butter and syrup, I had to wonder if the landscape had something to do with Grizzard’s frustration and subsequent venting on the Cubs.

Well, Carrie and I found Chicago to be more delightful than either of us had ever imagined.

Looking back, you could say we took the “Ferris Bueller” tour of Chicago.

On Tuesday we visited Lincoln Park and the Lincoln Park Zoo just north of downtown along Lake Shore Drive. This zoo asks nothing of you but your time. It doesn’t cost a thing to visit. Taken by the scenery and the view of the John Hancock Building in the background to the north, this was a most pleasant stop.

We then checked into our hotel there in the Lincoln Park neighborhood. I turned the keys over to a guy who parked the car. As a result, I didn’t have to fight any traffic for three days. Our hotel was within a short walking distance to the El train and we negotiated, (thanks to pre-purchasing three day transit passes for 12 bucks each beforehand) the entire city with ease.

That evening we took the El to the Quincy Street station and walked all of one block to the entrance of the Sears Tower. In a former life I spent ten years working at Sears in the Greentree Mall. We had a running joke back then about “kneeling to the Tower” in regard to the Sears hierarchy. Anyway, we looked out on a clear sky and could see forever. It was awesome.

The next day we went to see the Cubs play the San Francisco Giants at Wrigley Field. I’m at a loss to describe this experience, but I’ll do my best. The word “carnival” comes to mind. Two and a half hours before the game started Carrie and I took the number 22 bus down Clark Street to Addison. I walked off the bus not knowing where the stadium was. I took four steps forward, turned a corner and was greeted by the words, “Welcome to Wrigley Field” on the side of the stadium; it was as if a thousand old friends were there to yell “Surprise!” all at once.

Carrie and I took walked around this old relic and enjoyed every moment. It was constructed in 1914 and you can believe every year of it.

The Cubs won the game 12-1.

At one point, I looked at Carrie and told her I feel guilty, all this and tonight we are going to see the Moody Blues at the Chicago Theatre, another ancient venue that is still thriving today. It was more than we ever deserved.

The Moodies concert was not unlike others I have seen. And I have seen quite a few of them, this was number thirty. They are my favorite band. The music is positive. The fans are pleasant, for the most part. And Justin Hayward can play the guitar for me all night and I won’t get tired of it.

On Thursday, we visited The Art Institute of Chicago. There we saw the classic painting American Gothic and a slew of other gems as well. Picasso, Ansel Adams photos, and the painting Ferris Bueller’s buddy, Cameron, is mesmerized with, Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte by Georges Seurat.

Later, we went to the Navy Pier and took a river tour along the skyline, learning the lore and history of a city I look forward to someday finding again.