Lilly sometimes studies at the other desk in my office. This evening the object of her studies was various bones, for her anatomy class (I’m pretty sure that subject wasn’t offered at my bronze-age high school). I suggested that she can learn bones listening to “Dry Bones.” She’s used to this kind of suggestion.
On Friday, I was briefly in Oak Park. But long enough to take a look at the Oak Park Love Locks.
They are at the Metra and El line underpass on Oak Park Ave. They’re a little thin on this side of the underpass (the south side), but thicker on the north side, where there was also a lot less light.
A helpful sign posted by the Oak Park Area Arts Council says, in part: “On a bridge over the river Seine in Paris, lovers write their names and dates on padlocks, attach them to the rails, and throw the padlock key into the river to symbolize their commitment. The locks form a colorful, metallic tapestry that testifies to the power of undying love.
“As part of The Ernest Hemingway Foundation of Oak Park’s Hemingway Birthday Celebration, we are bringing this part of Paris to Oak Park and inviting the community to create its own statement of romance.”
Something about this cries out to be mocked. According to some sources, Parisians aren’t particularly fond of this practice, which isn’t very old either — certainly nothing Hemingway had anything to do with. And while bridges on the Seine might inspire romance, a dimly lit concrete-and-steel underpass in suburban Chicago doesn’t have any of that vibe. Also — just to note — the thing is sponsored by a major padlock maker. Bet they have romance in their corporate heart.
If the Arts Council really wants to bring some of Hemingway’s Paris to the 21st century Midwest, I have a few suggestions: cafes and zinc bars with subsidized drinks, so they’re cheap like Paris in the ’20s; a bookstore that looks exactly like Shakespeare and Company; and a statue of the gentlemen who invented pharmacy.
I didn’t remember seeing this before, though I probably have.
A nearby sign says: “This fountain is a gift from Chicago’s Sister City of Casablanca, Morocco to the people of Chicago. It is covered with special hand-cut terra-cotta tiles called “zellij” … the round patterns on the front of our fountain are intended to represent flowers. The zellji technique was developed in the 10th century in North Africa and Andalusia and has been faithfully practiced up to the present day.”
