A Tale of Neon, Panera and Sunsets

'Twas the eve before Halloween and after a full day of work with no work (And blissfully avoiding the work I should be doing), my comrade and pal Craig and I managed to head over to Panera on the corner of Lincoln and Kedzie in the Lincoln Village Shopping Center to take advantage of the free Wifi and the asiago cheese bagels (Well, I'm the sole breadwinner who took advantage of the bagel and the cream cheese with my mouth of course. Dirty!) As we were sitting in the back of the restaurant, we realized out of this picture postcard view of Lincoln Avenue going northwest that we were gazing at one amazing sunset. Most of the day seemed like it could have been the perfect setting for a nice Edgar Allan Poe story: dark and dreary, weak and weary, the usual Chi-town blues. Much the way Mr. Poe himself was when he hit the bottle on a regular basis. That Poe, he was a troubled man and while the day was not troubled, the trouble was the wind and the rain and the fact that the un-sunny disposition of Mother Nature in general must have been what drove Poe to the bottle. What the hell was I talking about? Oh, yes, sunsets.

This is why a camera is always handy in my bottomless abyss of a purse. Outside I went to capture a few snapshots and think about the days when Lincoln Avenue was a byway engraved with glossy, colorful neon lights of the various motels and fifties era throwbacks. Most are all but gone now, victims of the tear down obsession/condo conversion craze at insane markups of the past decade. To me this marked the decade of destruction for Lincoln Avenue. I remember, shortly after moving to Rogers Park, many of the quirks of the sea of neon still remained intact and Lincoln Village laid there unscathed in a pre-Panera, pre-Starbucks, pre-Borders over saturation of a world. How far we have come! In just a few short years, few of the so-called seedy motels would stay alive and the ones that didn't bite the dust stayed with the times and updated their look and all but destroyed any vestiges of neon. And, dear readers, if you think I am an oddball for thinking about all this while staring at this gorgeous view, then, yes, I am. The horrors of the lack of preservation for some of those cool neon motel signs of the past should be a Poe story in itself: The Tale of the Death and Destruction of Neon. Somehow, that title does not sound very Poe-esque, but the story idea is good for self awareness if you're into vintage neon and all its glory.

The peachy oranges and the lilac purples sure bring in a nice contrast to the darkness which remind Craig of Chicagoan Roger Brown's artwork. He managed to blend lines together well just as the sky did on this night. As Craig and I were leaving this blissful bread and soup heaven known as Panera, we seemed to have a moment that was straight out of Jim Jarmusch's superb and hilarious 1984 film Stranger Than Paradise. A guy with a thick Indian accent, who had been sitting alone reading for quite sometime, was visited by an irate woman (presumably a friend of his) ranting on as hyperactive as possible in incoherent ramblings over a coat in a thick Eastern European accent reminiscent of Gretchen Wilomena Kraus of the often hilarious early 1980s TV show Benson. I swear she sounded and almost looked if she could be Kraus' double. It was eerie and at the same time utterly hilarious. Laughter was held in on major proportions. Paging Mr. Poe, here's a story idea for you from beyond the grave.

For now, enjoy the view, think about Poe pondering the loss of neon and rent the film Stranger Than Fiction if you've never seen it. Alas, Lincoln Avenue will always be there, but very bare. Nevermore!