Dear Chicago: One Good Thing, One Bad Thing

Well, the bad thing first.

I have an awful confession to make. Even though I'm a Chicagoan, I like Boston/New York pizza better.

I know, how dare I. Sacrilege. If Chicago is identified by any food, it's hot dogs without ketchup, and deep dish pizza. And I like the paper-thin crust pizza of the east coast far better.

I buy slices. I eat them. I enjoy them. I fold them just like an east coast person would.

I mean, do we need that much cheese Chicago? I accuse you of a reductio ad absurdum--of taking a shred of the truth and manipulating it to absurdity.

Yes cheese tastes good. Yes it's even better melted. But it's good in small amounts: a little bit of cheddar on your chili, a slice with your sandwich, a bit mixed in with your omelet. But inches of it? Overkill.

So I apologize for my love of east coast pizza. But I made it up to Chicago yesterday.

I was in Arts in Education class, and we were talking about access to the arts in urban areas. One of the teaching fellows had worked in Chicago, so he was talking about the circumstances in south side neighborhoods. Then a few other students who had lived in Chicago piped up, and then a few more. Pretty soon anyone who had ever spent some time in the Windy City was chiming in with what they knew--Chicago this and Chicago that, Chicago lost funding, Chicago has strong community centers, Chicago has well-defined ethnic neighborhoods, on and on. So then a woman from Tennessee spoke up and joked (in her southern drawl), "Wait a minute, is everyone from Chicago?"

The whole room laughed. The Chicagoans had taken over. It was funny.

And as the laughter subsided, and a little space opened up for the next comment, I jumped in:

"Well, you're either from Chicago, or you wish you were."