Nightlites

When I first moved in, I was so enthralled by the view from my windows that I would go to sleep gazing at the city view.  I even moved my bed from one side of the room to the other in order to have a better view.  The lights from the city - and when I say city I mean that I have a view of a large portion of both the northern side of the Loop and the north river buildings - shine pretty brightly, and if the light weren't dissipated, individually low but as a whole, fairly luminous, it would be a problem.  For me, though, it's somehow comforting.

I have for most of my life been drawn to the night sky.  The moon and I have a personal relationship, and "big O", better known as Orion, is my protector.  Here, I've lost sight of big O but I have no doubt he's still up there watching over me.  And the moon, and her brother (in this case), the sun, are my precious offspring, permanently tattooed on my back and in my heart.

This new view, so foreign and nevertheless comforting, is almost like the stars.  You can look at the stars for hours and continually see something new - a new pattern or shape, and endlessly new points of light in the distance.  My view is much the same; almost every day or evening I see something I didn't notice before.  A new building, smoke stake, pattern, antenna...you name it.  There is so much out there it's impossible to take it all in at once.  Or twice, or thrice....

Pretty much smack dab in the middle of the view is the famed Sears Tower (now renamed the Willis Tower).  I was excited at the prospect of having this building which held the title of tallest in the world for many years, and the two huge antenna towers on the top, in my daily life.  The odd thing, though, is that it's not a very attractive building.  It's tall alright, but there's nothing interesting or beautiful about it.  I'll give it this much...it is certainly impressive, but it's not my favorite building in town.

My favorite is the Merchandise Mart.  It's not so noticeable during the day - you almost have to point it out - and even I didn't notice it at first.  But at night, it's the most graciously beautiful sight.  The lights, which reach the length and I'm sure the breadth (a full block) of the top two stories, glow a soft amber, making the regal facade of the place most romantic.  The amber glow is echoed in the end turrets and the middle tower, both castle-like.  The fun element is that the under-lighting of the middle tower changes color.  Sometimes also amber, but around Mother's Day, it was pinkish (more peach, actually), and for a couple of weeks they've been blue.  Over this past weekend, however, and continuing into this week, they've been red.  This could be in commemoration of the Veterans that have shed their blood for this country, or it could be Blackhawk red, or it could be a coincidence that the 'hawks are 2 games up in the Stanley Cup, and everything in the city is red and black.

I guess the bottom line is that, of all the amazing sights from my windows at night, this old and venerable massive plain brown hunk of a building becomes the first thing to draw the eye, and the heart.  Maybe it's a symbol for all of us that are surrounded by taller, newer, shinier sights, telling us that there's a glow about us that, if someone is looking just right, shines through.

By the way, I still sleep with the shades up and the city lights shining through the windows.  I'm not at all sure I'll ever close those blinds.  It's my nightlight.