O Chicago, City of Broad Shoulders, Paris on the Prairie, Hog-Butcher to the World, sweet denizen of meat packing -- these are but terms of endearment, but perhaps that jazz-fusion group that bears your name can sum up my feelings the best:

As time goes on I realize
Just what you mean to me
And now, now that you're near
Promise your love
That I've waited to share
And dreams of our moments together
Color my world with hope of loving you...
(Chicago, 1970)


Now, we Chicagoans are a humble bunch, but this is a fact: Sister cities (Prague, Casablanca, Paris) want to date you and brother cities (Warsaw, Toronto, Mexico City) want to be you.

I look up your Wikipedia article and get chills whilst reading the phrase "Of the city population, 26.2% are under the age of 18, 11.2% are from 18 to 24, 33.4% are from 25 to 44, 18.9% are from 45 to 64, and 10.3% are 65 years of age or older. The median age is 32 years. For every 100 females there were 94.2 males." Give me some more stats, baby. I can google you all day long.

Chicago, you have been patient with me, a true believer of the phrase "If you love them, then let them fly." After wandering abroad for many months, alternately denying and embracing my love for you, I am finally ready to come to terms with you, my soul-mate. Foreigners in other cities would inevitably squeal "Oh, I love Chicago!" when I mentioned your name. They would stage art exhibitions and tributes to you in their European capitals. But I knew the truth: you had eyes only for me, and were but flirting with the rest.

Even when past (flesh-and-blood) loves have failed me, you have been there. Ann Sather's. Istria Cafe. The Art Institute. Lao Sze Chuan. Yet these are only a few places that have provided me with spiritual and physical nourishment in times of need. Jimmy's Woodlawn Tap. The May St Cafe. Decima Musa. Filter (alas, no more!). There's a few more. Just let me express my gratitude now: thank you for $2 lattes, similarly-priced beers, and practically free culture. You can't imagine how much I miss it while abroad.

So, do you think that we could try it again, Chicago? I can amuse you with French phrases and tales of adventuring through German forests. You can bring the burritos, deep dish pizza, and Goose Island beer. I'm willing to take it slow, to reacquaint myself with long drives up and down LSD, and I won't even complain about the CTA or Mayor Daley. Let me know by Labor Day, when I'll be coming home for good.