They say you can’t go home again.
In this case, they were right. The road right by “Wig’s Heap,” my childhood home, was undergoing construction and Leo and I couldn’t navigate the large gravel chunks in our rental car.
I settled for pointing out the top of the house and the catalpa tree peeping over the fields of golden corn.
The stop was part of a pilgrimage through the Land of Lincoln, otherwise known as Illinois. I was born and raised there, leaving at the age of 23. When Leo and I realized we had a wedding to attend in Louisville, it seemed the perfect way to add two more capitols to our list. (Check out the updated map.)
So, after wishing our newly wedded friends well, we backtracked east to Frankfort, which had one of the bigger capitol buildings we’ve seen
Then, we headed southeast, coming up to Illinois through Paducah, Ky. so that we could stop and visit Superman.
Yes, Superman. As any fan knows, he lives in Metropolis, which happens to be in southern Illinois. I swear the larger-than-life statue is the only thing keeping the tiny hamlet from melting into the cornfields. After our photo opp (all of 4 minutes), we hit the road again for Carbondale.
I attended Southern Illinois University in Carbondale and loved nearly every minute, studying little, working hard and partying even harder.
But I still made the grades, and a few lifelong friends at my work, the Daily Egyptian. The student-run newspaper was among the best in the nation at the time, fully supported by its own ad revenue and boasting its own (if ancient) printing press. I had last visited the college-heavy town of Carbondale in 2006 for homecoming. Little had changed, but it somehow looked much smaller. We drove by my old apartment, my old dorm, the communications building. We walked through campus, him admiring renovations, me seeing ghosts of lives past.
The one place I didn’t take him was the Daily Egyptian office. I’d picked up a copy of the DE and was sad to see a decline in the quality and quantity of work. I decided to leave the happy memories intact.
Instead, I reaffirmed my longtime raves and occasional Pavlovian longings for Quatro’s pizza, whose snappy phone number jingle still lingers in the ne’er used alcohol-soaked brain cells of many an SIU graduate. Could it be that the pizza’s perfect crust and delicious sauce might have only been tasty to neophytic taste buds? I longed to see if I was making it up.
I was not. The pizza was better even than my memory of it.
My memory of delicious and unhealthy delights held true in Springfield, where I introduced Leo to a horseshoe. This local treat, once featured on the Food Network, consists of a slice of Texas toast, topped with your choice of meat or veggies (buffalo chicken is best), and then topped again with crinkle-cut fries and a perfect, liquid homemade cheese sauce. (The imitators give you fake Velveeta-style yellow cheese. Trust me: Go to D’Arcy’s Pint where knowledge of the white cheese sauce recipe requires security clearance.)
While in Springfield, Leo and I added capitol No. 11 to our list. I was pleased to hear my boasts of the glorious building were mostly true. We also visited Lincoln’s tomb and the fantastic Lincoln Presidential Museum, a visitor must-see.
The trip continued north, where we cruised quickly through my hometown of Washburn (pop. 1,100) before losing ourselves in the cornfields. (I don’t miss it one bit.) We emerged from the corn and into the great city of Chicago, a place I’d consider living if the weather wasn’t cold for six months a year.
Chicago is a glorious city, and we had a great time. We took pictures in front of the famous bean in Millennium Park, stared at Buckingham Fountain and ate pizza at Gino’s East. (YUM.) We rode the “L,” walked by the lake, wandered through Old Town and along Michigan Avenue.
The best part was the architecture tour we took on the Chicago River. For some reason, we were the only two on board on this gorgeous Thursday, so our tour guide sat right next to us and chatted her way up one side of the river and down the other, talking about the history of the tall buildings before us. To think it all started with a fire. Amazing.
Although we stayed right by the John Hancock tower, we skipped it and the Sears (ahem, sorry — Willis) Tower, opting instead for the view from Navy Pier’s Ferris Wheel. We also visited Second City, a comedy club known for producing people later seen on Saturday Night Live or in movies. They sat us in the front row, and sure enough, they came by to pick on us a bit. We were congratulated for being married only three months.
“Buy these guys a drink; they still have sex!” the girl exclaimed.
Our experience could have been a lot more humiliating: another guy was called up on stage to participate in a gay wedding.
We rounded out the trip by joining Leo’s friend for some beers on Saturday afternoon, just making it to our airport gate in time to board.
So you can’t really go home again, but sometimes, it’s nice to visit.
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