While walking home from work last night, I came to the Michigan Avenue bridge at the intersection of Wacker & Michigan Ave.

A serious dilemma
Do I walk two blocks west to Wabash or do I stand here and wait for the bridge to come back down?

Instead of walking the extra block or two to get to Wabash, I chose to stick around and watch the crowd.  In the words of my wife Sarah, “People Baffle Me!”

Cameras, video cameras, kids sitting on dad’s shoulders … these people made it seem like there was some sort of accident or catastrophe taking place.

“Come on folks, move along … nothing to see here.”
The bridge was up allowing a barge to pass underneath it.  No accident.  No jumper.  Nothing exciting.  Simple river traffic.

Realizing that I was just wasting time standing there, I decided to walk on over to Wabash.  When I was half way over the Wabash Bridge, I glanced east at the Michigan Avenue bridge.  Sure enough, it had come down.  Wouldn’t you know it?  If I would have stood around for a few more minutes, I would have been able to cross the bridge and make it to my final destination in no time.

The point of my rant?  Tourists.  They’re so funny!  They’ll take pictures of anything!

Happy Labor Day, everyone!

RH

        You see, boys forget what their country means by just reading The Land of the Free in history books. Then they get to be men they forget even more. Liberty’s too precious a thing to be buried in books, Miss Saunders. Men should hold it up in front of them every single day of their lives and say: I’m free to think and to speak. My ancestors couldn’t, I can, and my children will. Boys ought to grow up remembering that. (Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, 1939)

Instead of watching the DNC Convention on Tuesday night, I chose to Jimmy Stewart’s classic movie, “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.”  This line has been stuck in my head ever since.

Yes, Mr. Smith.  Liberty is too precious of a thing to be buried in books.  We should hold it up in front of us every single day of our lives and say:  I’m free to think and speak.  My ancestors couldn’t, I can, and my children will.

That’s certainly a mantra to live by.