The weather outside is frightful, rain changing to various little white stinging things. Meanwhile, inside, all is warm and comfy.

Red-hatted nisse wait for Santa’s immanent chimney descent.

There are many naps, scheduled and unscheduled.

And yes, the Goat is honored here.

Did I mention lefse?

~~~~~~~~~

Thin ice. This is the south end of Wolf Lake, a boat slip just past the gun club. Twenty degrees (-7º C), but no sign of snøkaos.  This is still Chicago proper, not the kind of place you think of as “home, home on the range, where the deer and the antelope play. “

I had hoped to find a scholar stone (well, not really, it was just a McGuffin for choosing a destination for the walk). The stones here seem to be filled with steel rebar.

I’ve never been here before. It’s a trailer park.

There are some trailers, but even more empty pallets. The hookups look like tombstones.

A huge deer runs across the empty part of the trailer park way in front of me, but I have just put my camera back in my pocket, along with my freezing fingers.

I take my camera back out and turn it on. Suddenly two more deer start to run over me, but then they see me and stop behind a bush, ten feet in front of me. Two sets of ears perk up and two noses push forward, panicky but curious. Surely I can get a fast picture now and crop it later without losing too much resolution. Quickly I snap the camera’s button, but realize it’s in movie mode and is filming instead. The deer have disappeared, but I wait, and am rewarded with a short film of them bounding away towards Boy Scout Drive.

The deer go back and forth several times, seemingly unafraid of the traffic, then finally disappear. I follow. A fence encloses the trailer park, but at the far end, close to the road, an old carpet is thrown over the fence. Hmm. Wonder what that could be for. This is the sort of trailer park with white plastic swans and broken flowerpots in the yards, so a discarded carpet would not look out of place here, but somehow I think it’s not just discarded, but put there for the deer to cross the fence.

I continue to Boy Scout Drive. This is the local route to Indiana and cheap gas, so named because the Boy Scouts have adopted it to keep the trash picked up.

I continue to the railroad tracks that mark the Indiana border. The tracks continue north through the lake, dividing Wolf Lake into the Illinois side and the Indiana side. Here there is a barrier–it seems all the rocks on this side of the lake are embedded with steel rods. It’s just not a good day for scholars’ stones.

..but to the left of the barrier is an unmistakable path through a small swamp. This must be where the deer find water.

And in the frozen ground, the imprint of several deer tracks.

A short drive from the French colonial town of Prairie du Rocher on the Mississippi river floodplain is Fort de Chartres. The fort boasts a summer reenactment called the Rendezvous (although it would be hard to beat Lafayette, Indiana’s “Feast of the Hunter’s Moon” with its French voyageurs) as well as a traditional French  New Year’s Eve celebration called la Guignonee.

My way with architecture is to try to interact with it in some way.   This fort is incredibly photogenic and I scampered all over trying to capture with the camera what the eye was seeing. After a shot of the flood plain with ripe cornfields and the river road bluffs in the background, the photographs follow roughly my path through the fort: 1) next to parking lot at the side of the fort, the cannon with  Dolphin handles and writing in French 2) the entrance in the center of the front wall 3) officers barracks in the back where the museum is and where the winter festival is held, cart, some back buildings with oven 4) the little building with the buttresses and peaked roof  is the ammunition storage which is thought to be the oldest building in Illinois 5) a small turret (?) on the corner and some views through various windows 6) the sheltered platform over the front entrance with great views of the whole fort 7) plaques with explanations in French and English 8﴿ the front of the fort taken from the road.

Prairie du Rocher, along with the neighboring Fort de Chartres, was perhaps the earliest French center in Illinois. It is still known for keeping the French custom of la Guignonee (ghee-OH-nay), a New Year’s Eve wassailing tradition where costumed groups (including some college professors), go door to door singing for drinks. “We would start at the priest’s house”, said one long-time participant, “so he wouldn’t see how drunk we were after visiting the other houses.” A public celebration, with costumed dancers and fiddlers, is held at the nearby fort.

You can cross over to “Rocher”  on the Ste. Genevieve ferry, or go the long way around and cross the Mississippi at the bridge at Chester.

The town boasts a church, a bar, an American Legion Hall, and the Creole House, with the long porch and post-in-ground French architecture typical of the era.

The town and nearby fort are protected from seasonal flooding by levies with gates that can be closed.

Bluffs line the sides of the Mississippi.

A short drive along the bluff road leads to the historic home of Pierre Menard, a wealthy French Canadian fur trader and the first Lieutenant Governor of Illinois. The earthworks marking the site of Fort Kaskaskia are above the house, and can be reached by a wooden stairway.

“Rocher” is also famous for its annual summer “rendezvous” historical reenactment at nearby Fort de Chartres.   The bicentennial was perhaps the largest; here is a newspaper with a photo of the 1976 crowd on Rocher’s main street.

This is the fort that never was. The French Fort Chartres and the corresponding town of Prairie du Rocher are a few miles away down on the flood plain, these days protected by a series of levies.

Drive a few miles east along the river and you come to the Pierre Menard home, where the Lieutenant Governor lived.  Climb up the steep hill behind the Menard home and you come to the site of Fort Kaskaskia.  Today there isn’t much more than a hint of the former earthworks:



A sign tells the history of how the “fort” changed hands between the various nations:

The sign says:

French Occupation (1703-1763). These timeworn earthworks are the remains of temporary fortifications designed to protect the town of Kaskaskia (founded in 1703), the southern anchor of France’s colony in the Illinois country. the first plans for this site, made in the 1730s, called for a substantial stone fort. They were soon abandoned as too expensive. French officials seeking to prevent British encroachment into Illinois determined again in 1751 to build a permanent stone fort at Kaskaskia. It was soon decided to instead build at the nearby site of the decayed second Fort de Chartres, located north of here. construction of a fort of earth and wood on this site began about 1759, but was probably never completed.
British Occupation (1763-1776). The fort of earth and wood played no role in the French and Indian Wars (1754-1763), which ended with the transfer of Illinois from France to Great Britain. British officers visiting here in 1766 found an earth work ruin containing two dilapidated buildings, collapsed gun platforms, and rotten timbers on the parapet. British authorities ignored this site and built a fortification known as Fort Gage in the town.
American Occupation (1778). The town of Kaskaskia was captured by American fores in 1778 and passed formally to American control as a result of the 1783 Treaty of Paris, which ended the Revolutionary War. The old fort served during the 1780s as headquarters of local freebooter John Dodge. The U.S. Army renovated the fort about 1803 and stationed troops here until 1807. The old post was last used during the War of 1812 as shelter by local residents fearing attack by Indian allies of the British.

It does have a commanding view of the river.


When Lewis and Clark traveled through this area, they recruited several of the fort’s soldiers for their expedition:

The sign says:

Looking For A Few Good Men. In 1803, President Thomas Jefferson sent Meriwether Lewis and William Clark to lead a “Corps of Discovery” up the Missouri river in search of a water route to the pacific. They arrived at Kaskaskia on November 29, looking for new recruits. Lewis and Clark sought strong young men, familiar with the woods, good at hunting and able to endure a long, difficult journey. they found twelve candidates from the troops stationed here–more than any other place along their route. “On my arrival at Kaskaskia, I made a selection of a sufficient number of men from the troops…to complete my party.” (Meriwether Lewis to President Thomas Jefferson 19 December 1803)

I’d go too.

Yesterday I cut short my walk, partly because the mud made my chosen route along the west side of the lake unpassable, but also because I haven’t done much exercise since I had the little adventure with the mariachi tuba people, and I wasn’t sure if I was in condition for it. I needn’t have worried. I woke up without the fatigue that says you’ve had the kind of workout you need to rest from and proceeded to put on real shoes for real walking.

Not that the sandals I was wearing yesterday aren’t good. They’re Tevas, and even if they don’t look all that different from dollar store flip flops, they have amazing support. The first time I wore them I was so excited I walked 6 miles in them without breaking them in first. They’re that good. It’s just that yesterday I was dressed for stopping at the office, and today I wanted to dress for the possibility of mud, tree branches, and things that will scratch your feet if they’re not covered.

Part of my walking routine is to vary my routine. Yesterday I walked to the lake approaching from the south, today I would approach from the west. My destination: the defunct Nike missile base on the north side of the lake.

The first part was a little short cut through an alley….

…to pick up a trail…

that parallels another trail beside the railroad right of way.

From quite a distance I could hear the sounds of little league–after all, it’s Saturday.  Ah, how I remember my brother’s little league games…but wait, these are girls.  Yes, I remember a famous lawsuit that established equality for girls’ sports–a lawsuit that happened the year I graduated–too late to do me any good. These girls aren’t learning embroidery like I did–they are active. Their fathers are very much in evidence, too, refereeing, taking photos. I remember when my father used to take my brother to the ballpark to practice throwing balls.  Did I ever learn how to throw a ball? I must have.  How?

At one time I was bitter, but now, well, I spent some time watching this group, I admit, but my life has had its own twists, with sports, and in my relationship with my father.  It is what it is and I savor what I have had.

One orange sock:

then the Ford plant….

and some Fords waiting for new owners….

It must be transportation day, because here comes a train engine running backwards as they do when they pull a heavy load…

I love trains–”Indiana Harbor”.

The quarry..seems to be some sort of gravel pit…

and the cottonwood trees in the distance hint at the swampy ground below.

In the distance, cottonwoods–in the foreground, sweet smelling white alfalfa.

How can you tell it’s a cottonwood tree from so far away?  Easy.  The sound of the leaves in the wind. Here’s 40 seconds of the sound of one cottonwood tree in the wind:

You can also be pretty sure that when you see a cottonwood tree, there is a source of water nearby.

This has gotten to be  pretty long post and we’re not even to the lake yet.  Did I mention the destination was the lake? Here’s a quick picture of the lake yesterday when the sun was out:

and one taken today after the thundershowers:

But it’s not the destination, it’s the journey.

This is the song the Mexicans in Chicago sing for birthdays, saint days, and the December midnight celebration for the Virgin of Guadalupe.  It’s called mañanitas, or little morning songs.  It is supposed to be sung outside someone’s window on their birthday or saint day.  The transcription, including accents, is the way my students wrote it on the blackboard.  The translation is my own with a few cultural hints from the students.

Estas son las mañanitas que cantaba el rey David,

Hoy por ser tu cumpaños (replace with “santo” for saint day)  te las cantamos a ti.

Despierta mi bien despierta, mira que ya amanacio.

ya los pajarillos cantan, la luna ya se metió.

These are the little morning songs that king David used to sing,

Today since it’s your birthday we sing them to you.

Wake up my love who is waking up, look, it’s already daylight.

already the birds sing, the moon already went down.

Que linda esta la mañana, en que vengo a saludarte,

venimos todos con gusto y placer a felicitarte.

De los estrellas del cielo quisiera bajarte 2 [dos],

una para saludarte y otro para decirte adios.

How beautiful is the morning, in which I come to greet you,

We all come with pleasure and delight to greet you.

Of the stars in the sky I would want to bring down two for you

One to greet you and another to tell you goodbye (because I sing outside your window and you don’t come out to thank me.)

volaron 4 [cuatro] palomas por toditas las cuidades,

hoy por ser tu cumpeaños te deseamos felicidades.

Ya viene amaneciendo, ya luz del dia nos dio,

levantate de mañana mira, que ya amaneció.

four doves fly (in the four directions) towards all the cities,

today on account of being your birthday we desire your happiness.

Already the daybreak is coming, the light of the day you gave us (for being a special day),

Get up and look at the day,  that is already dawning .

What is my goofy neighbor upstairs doing now?

Car horns at 11:30 at night on a Wednesday? Not good. The noise and yelling on the street continues for the second time tonight.  Reluctantly I take my camera to the door. It’s a fine young man getting out of a car with a bicycle.  I wonder whatever could be he looking for this time of night?

Something is thrown from the upper window and the bicycle guy retrieves it.

“Sh*t! I ain’t got nothin!”

[Inaudible]

“Gotta go, she’s videotaping.”

The car goes in one direction and the bicycle goes in the other.  Incense-like  fumes waft through my heating vent and I gag.  Again I crank up the high-cfm fan and blow the fumes out the screen door.  Such a nice young man on the bicycle, although he did have a bit of a potty mouth.   I wonder why he was in such a hurry to leave.

I started this blog to write about Arabs–so how is that working out for me?

“What’s wrong with Chicago housing.” I was told in the staff room, “is that the landlords can’t get rid of tenants.” A friend of his had a tenant who owed a year’s rent. Legally there was no way to get him to move out. In the end the tenant asked for ten thousand dollars to leave, but settled for five thousand. The landlord considered it money well spent.

Can this story be true?

I had just described my latest housing woes. If a tenant is making noise after ten o’clock the police will respond. Apparently repeated police calls can get the landlord in trouble, so the rumor is the landlords can’t do anything about a tenant until the police have been called. And it’s not considered good form to call the police until you have talked to the landlord to try to resolve it. But these new tenants make noise during the day, when I’m trying to read or prepare for class, and the tenant in the back who works night is trying to sleep. (As soon as she is out the door, the rest of her family thinks it’s party city–but that was last month’s battle.)

My coworker’s friends could find me a good place to live in the same neighborhood where I work, he assured me. (as usual, click to enlarge)

There are people who would rather leave their buildings empty than rent to the wrong people. A tenant who can pay their rent on time every month is in demand and can find a good situation.

How much? Less than four hundred a month.

And for $400 I could get what, a one bedroom? More than that. I might even become part of an extended family and be invited to parties. (And what do you bet I could get close to becoming bilingual?)

Back at the homestead, one of the other tenants told me she saw the new upstairs tenant–the one causing my current woes–sitting around on the stairs with a bunch of gang-bangers. She says she’s upset–her kids don’t gang bang. There are already gang signs in the alley that weren’t there two years ago.  Now what?  Add to that the beer bottles on the front boulevard and under the porch and the funny incense smell wafting through the building. Mene, mene, …

Last week the landlord assured me he was writing “quiet enjoyment of premises” into all the new leases. But realistically does it matter?  Can a tenant only be evicted for criminal activity? Or at all? Or does a landlord just have to fill an apartment without any regard for what the tenants are like? Should I just be grateful this one doesn’t have eight visitors every hour who stomp up the stairs and stay for five minutes before tromping down the stairs again?

This week I have called the landlord several times already to complain about the noise level from the new tenants upstairs, but today around ten I was awakened with what sounded like a tuba solo shaking every room.  Um pa. Um pa. Sticking my nose out the door I could still hear it from outside the building, but there an entire mariachi ensemble, not just the base line, could be distinguished.  Could this be captured on a little digital camera?  Here it is:

…tekel,…
Update:  Curious, here is a conspiracy video with lots of scary low bass notes. And there’s always Holst’s Planets. The Mars movement has some good bass notes; YouTube doesn’t do it justice though. This recording is quite bad, in fact it’s not so much a recording as a digital version, but the low notes have a remarkable vibrational effect.

New update:  My new neighbors are now quiet–after I played the YouTube for the landlord!! Let’s hope it stays that way and that I don’t have to move.

Today river water levels in Chicago are back to normal– they peaked Friday night.  In some places there was an inch or two of water over the roads, and everyone had to get through single file. This is what they looked like on Saturday on the way to work, with rivers levels cresting six inches above flood stage.  Torrence Avenue south of 106th is still a bit wet, but drying out.  Two lanes are open.  Wolf Lake is not all that wet, even if the entrance has water over the road. The ground may be  spongy, but the picnic tables are still above water lever. The stupid, idiotic, ever-pooping geese are happy.