Chicago has its problems, but it's still a city to enjoy

Tuesday night, I was sitting in a coffee shop, talking to a former Chicago cop about what it was like to get shot.

Wednesday morning found me during a Chicago Symphony Orchestra rehearsal, asking the percussionist about the distinctive bass drum.

Say what you will about the city, it certainly runs the gamut from A to Z, and my job is to trot along, taking notes. Talk about luck.

Although it can be a challenge – for me anyway – to strike a balance. Is Chicago a horror show? Musical delight? Crime scene or flower beds? It's hard to decide. Focus on the negatives of city life, the bloodshed and poverty, and you'll feel insulted by spring. Summer doesn't officially start for another three weeks, even though we've just passed Memorial Day, and it seems pretty close, as he sets up his linen tents. June starts on Saturday.

But escaping into the joys of city life during these peak months, great restaurants, wonderful museums and one of the world's greatest orchestras, seems like willful blindness. Children are burning to death in Gaza as I contemplate the pineapple sauce.

So it's a lose-lose? Whatever you think is wrong? This cannot be true.

I think the answer is multi-scale, good and bad. Absorbing everything. Keep moving, and look around with an eye to the future. The beauty of things that haven't happened yet is that we don't know how they will happen. The pivotal event in Chicago this summer will be the Democratic National Convention, and until it actually takes place, there's always hope it will, in theory, work out well. As in 1996, with new iron railings everywhere, the West Side was revitalized and everyone said how the ghosts of 1968 were finally buried.

They're just not buried, are they? They are still here, emerging from their graves and wandering in the shadows. Yes, the conference can clean the potholes from the city's damaged reputation. It's possible. But you'd have to be a fool to expect that. Not when all the ingredients for a complete 1968-level disaster are lined up on the table, waiting to be mixed together. Every affected person in the country heads to Chicago to raise their voices about a twisted set of crises. A party nominating an octogenarian grandfather that even its supporters are not enthusiastic about. A timid amateur at City Hall who couldn't plan a successful sack race.

Adequate. The conference is 10 weeks away. Why waste your best time in Chicago worrying? Not when we each have our own little interests.

I'm sure about that. My oldest son is getting married on a beach in Michigan in mid-July. I prepared for this event by purchasing a seersucker suit. If you had to balance those two concerns — strife-torn Chicago, or people smiling at a man who seems to think he's an extra in Merchant Ivory — the honest answer is the second concern, without a doubt. “Are you sure this doesn't look like a costume?” I asked my wife. “I've never seen anyone wear one of these ever.” Then again, I'm not used to croquet parties.

But I believe in personal rules, predetermined pole stars to follow in moments of duress. As the wedding date approached, my motto was: “Whatever the bride wants.” I sent her a picture of the seersucker suit while I was still in the store. Approved.

Besides, it's not about me. Second wedding spell. I am superfluous, superfluous. The truth is, I could show up dressed as Little Bo Peep, with a quirky staff on—I saw a guy dressed close to that on a Metra train once—and no one would notice or care. All eyes will be where they belong: the happy couple.

Here's a plan: Try not to let summer revolve around you. This may be a noble goal, but then, as Robert Browning said, our scope must exceed our reach or What's the point of heaven?

Maybe the answer is to live in the moment. Don't worry about the future, it hasn't happened yet. There will be a conference of some kind. The wedding is going to happen, and if I drop my glass of NA red wine down my cotton suit while trying to make a toast, well, that's what's going to happen, and I'll be dancing around with a big stain on my pants. Here we are now, for good and for bad, and the temperature won't drop below zero until at least December. November at the earliest. Weave your fabric while the sun is shining.