I’ve lived in Chicago for seven years, which is the same amount of time the second graders playing in the schoolyard across the street from my Bucktown house have been alive. These children, being natives, have surely learned to prefer their pizza thin crusted (deep dish is for tourists) and “party cut” into squares.
When visitors arrive next summer for the Democratic National Convention, they will find not only a breathtakingly beautiful city but an urban ecosystem and culture unlike anywhere else on earth. As a politically progressive city in a conservative agricultural state, it reminds me of Atlanta, where I happily lived for nearly 20 years. Like Atlanta, it is a haven for queer people, not just from the state but from the entire region. Like Atlanta, it offers a relatively safe and protective environment for migrants. Like Atlanta, it has long fostered Black excellence in defiance of the best efforts of corrupt officialdom. The similarities end there.
Atlanta is a city of transplants who constantly question the civic discourse in an effort to improve life for its people. Chicago is a city of natives who claim they know better. A popular meme went around Chicago Twitter after the convention was announced. It showed a Wrigley Field-style neon sign with the message “If you’re not from Chicago please shut the f— up about Chicago.”
Chicagoans feel such pride in their city that they routinely sport tattoos of its four-star logo. I guess there may be the occasional Resurgens phoenix on someone’s calf in Atlanta, but I have yet to see one. Chicagoans don’t love the weather here, either, but they deal with it the best way they know how. That may be why I can travel a block in any direction from my house and find a bar. A dog-friendly one at that, because if you’re out for walkies in subzero temps, you need a little pick-me-up.
I can also walk to my optometrist, a place for duck tacos, a gym with indoor tennis courts, a liquor store with an amazing selection of Japanese single malts, a fantastic French bistro, a Home Depot and two lovely cathedrals.
The architecture here is spectacular, from the historic downtown towers that you absolutely need to see from a boat tour to the limestone “castles” lining the city’s boulevards, to the modern homes with plate windows offering unimpeded views into Dwell-worthy living rooms. The people are gruff and rude on the surface, Midwestern-nice underneath. And the longer you live here, the more you appreciate this give and take.
Of course, I miss Atlanta. When I go back, I am startled by how much more integrated both neighborhoods and public spaces are. I miss the food something fierce. But when it’s a nice day, like today, Chicago is magic. Everyone has come pouring out onto the streets, out of hibernation, and while the trees haven’t started to leaf yet, there are buds.
John Kessler is a food writer who lives and writes in Chicago. He spent nearly two decades at The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, where he wrote about food and served as the newspaper’s dining critic. He can be reached at jdkess@gmail.com.
