Letters I wrote from Chicago, then forgot to mail, so I hid in our mailbox when I got home.

Letter 1

Adrienne & Reese,

I am sitting here in an enormous park overlooking the lake and downtown Chicago. I can see the Sears Tower, and more impressively, a building that looks to be the headquarters of Ebony and Jet magazines!

I am resting my aching feet, fresh from a hike to the Natural History Museum where I hoped to buy some trinket to show Reese I was thinking of him. From there the plan was to go to the Art Institute and see if I couldn’t find something tiny for you.

Instead, I am sitting here listening to boats, and oddly enough, a mariachi band in the distance, while a cold wind blows in off the lake and numbs the right side of my face and the left side is burnt by the sun.

The weather is almost beautiful, but I completely wish you were here. I don’t have much desire to take pictures (and you know how I love to play artist) or to see museums. Life is just so much more fun with you guys.

Last night I walked up and down Michigan Ave-, “the Magnificent Mile”, and looked at shops and people. That is where I took the rather boring pictures of what was a beautiful fountain before I got my hands/camera on it. Really though, I just kept seeing little families walking together and wishing I had mine with me.

Nothing makes me happier than you guys. Without you the wind is colder, the sun hotter, and the 3^rd largest city in the US a boring place.

I love you,
Josh/Daddy (< - why bother, Reese will just call me Josh anyway.)

Letter 2

Muchachitos Malvados de la Isla del Mal,

I now write to you from a train on my way to the airport. Please excuse my handwriting, it is normally the envy of the neighborhood. the train is bouncing like crazy. That is also why my spelling is so poor.

I wandered the city for a few hours, just people-watching and stopping to look at anything interesting. By this scientific tourism process I found the Museum of Contemporary Photography—maybe I am a photographer. The show was disappointing. This might have been partly caused by the cloud that has been following me around in your absence. I also think the fact that the photographer was [large sideways line here] (THIS TRAIN MAY CRASH!) a ham-fisted hack may have contributed to my disappointment.

My patented tourism method also led me to one of the hot-dog stands that had been recommended. It was closed. This caused me to swear in Spanish (it doesn’t count!) for two minutes w/o taking a breath. I passed 4 or 5 more hot dog places and other restaurants that were also closed. the entire town had conspired against me, no doubt led by the McDonald’s corporation whose “restaurants” (GOING TO CRASH!)[squigly line labeled "Look reese, a train!"] were all open.

I thwarted their conspiracy by just not eating at all. If I am very lucky I will have the privilege of paying $29.95 for a hot dog in the airport.

Here is something nice about you. You will be more upset for me if I don’t get a hot dog than I will be for myself.

[back of page]

The lady next to me [more wavy lines and a small drawing of a train driving off the tracks, labeled "my train driving right off the tracks"] has such a saggy face that I want to pinch her leg HARD just to see if she can even make a surprised face. I suspect she will just continue to look like a comatose charpei.

I can’t wait to see you at the airport,
Josh

I am sitting on a Salt Lake bound flight right now, I have been reading Fresh Styles for Web Designers (generously given to me by Jason Fried), listening to The Very Best Of Elvis Costello And The Attractions, and reflecting on an enjoyable weekend–I would be in a great mood if it weren’t for the fact that my knees are currently pinned to my chest, and my elbows held out sideways so i can type on the powerbook that is jammed into my stomach.

Of course you are going bankrupt United (though I thank you for keeping it together long enough for my return flight). Here is a business tip. Customers don’t like it when you make them horribly uncomfortable for hours on end. I could approximate your business model by charging $200 to hit people in the knee with a rubber mallet for an hour and then dropping them off at the bus station.

Being 6’6“ was a great thing when I was a high-school athlete. Even in college, for a volleyball player I was pretty tall and that was a good thing. But now, what are the benefits? the whole ”tall people make more money“ thing seems to be a lie and I constantly hit my head on stuff. I am considering arm and leg-shortening surgery (I suppose I will just have to live with the torso).

Chicago was great. That is a city I could for sure live in. People were friendly, the food was incredible, there was plenty to do. I would, however, recommend the mayor reconsider his decision to pump the scent of stale urine throughout the downtown. I am not sure what he was hoping to accomplish with that, but I found it a bit off-putting.

The 37signals workshop was great. If you are a web-professional and you don’t pay attention to 37signals I think we can safely say that you have the IQ of a retarded cabbage.

I took almost no pictures of the trip and it is Robert Capa‘s fault. One evening I wandered the Magnificent Mile and ended up in a bookstore where I sat and looked through a couple of Robert Capa books. I was awe-struck. I am familiar with his work–and not just the war photos–but for some reason it hit me hard that night. I was not inspired. No, I was demoralized (Sideways! Is my plane supposed to be moving sideways!?).

So, the posting of photos is now on hiatus until morale is regained through much practice and self-imposed home-work. I am also leaving open the option of regaining morale by winning the lottery. I don’t want to limit myself here.

Now, a note to you Elvis Costello. You are a genius. We will not argue that, but we will suggest humbly from our talentless glass-house–there are ways to end songs other than repeating the refrain 30 times as you gradually fade out.

I have just been informed that the following does not count as a real apology:

“I am sorry for being snappy with you.. I mean snippy. Snippy…snappy…snippy. I was snippy, but I am sure I was also pretty snappy when I was being snippy.”