Goin' into the Deep South

Intrigued, I stared at the picture held tenderly in the slightly trembling hands of the old woman. She was giving me and a handful of tourists a tour of the Chicago Cultural Center.

Chicago is famous for its awe-inspiring architecture but during my trip last year in March the cold weather and heaps of snow caught me by surprise. Instead of taking a stroll down the streets of the Windy City I decided to explore the inner beauty of one of its epic buildings. It was a decision I would not come to regret.

Inside the Center, I was blown away by the world’s largest Tiffany stained-glass dome at the heart of the building. Our elderly tour guide explained that this space was one of Chicago’s most highly regarded public meeting rooms. President Obama had visited the precious place a few years ago. Silently we imagined his presence when the old lady started talking again. “Now, here I have a picture of another President that is very dear to me.”

The picture showed the bronze sculpture of a young, pondering, barefooted Abraham Lincoln with rolled up shirt sleeves sitting casually on a tree-stump, and a book in his hands, staring mysteriously out into the distance. President Lincoln had already evoked my curiosity many times before whenever I saw a picture of his presidential portraits. He had always appeared to be strong and unbreakable. But to see the rare image of one of history’s greatest U.S. presidents brooding charmingly in his younger years was a charismatic sight that caught my breath. It was magical to behold Lincoln in a vulnerable position. The sculpture was one of a kind yet unknown to many.

I decided to visit the young President that night. Taking the Red Line elevated train nearby my hotel on the Magnificent Mile, it was a half hour ride to northern Chicago’s Edgewater community. A ten minute distance walk away from the Thorndale station I found the life-size sculpture hidden at the small Senn Park next to a high school. While cars rushed by and I heard the voices of kids playing soccer at an adjacent field, I enjoyed a moment of serenity under a sky full of stars. All alone the President radiated quiet innocence. I sat down on a nearby bench to admire him and I could not help but wonder what he was pondering about. Would he ever have known back then what an impact he would have on many future generations? The young Lincoln didn’t give me any answers that night. He didn’t have to. His legacy speaks for itself.