This is a picture from the Great Chicago Blizzard of 1967, taken when I was -5 years old. This could very well be a picture from the future, say maybe January 22, 2008, of a Chicago street where everyone drives classic cars.
Anyway, yes, the mean ol' Chicago winter is on the way. The wind threatening to bust through my windows as I type this, just reminded me of this fact.
Winter. It is the season that will separate the men from the boys. The season that will cause you to revisit the weak and whiny "but we love the change of seasons" retort you yell in your head to quiet the screams of the others who say, "We're cold! No, we're freezing! Move to Mexico, you stupid @#$%!" When you're waiting for a bus in a city that can go from 80 degrees to Siberia in a matter of hours, this town can be a total bastard.
A fat, frozen, loud, slushy, salty bastard.
Like an abusive lover, let's admit, the Chicago winter tries to make it up to you. Maybe with a decent nighttime snowfall, where everything is white and quiet and still, even if for a few hours. Or with one of those random, bright and sunny winter days, when the snow melts a bit, and you can walk down the street, holding your coffee in a gloveless hand for the first time in weeks. On a day like that, you might even consider opening a window.
Man, it's going to be cold. Good God! But with a cute scarf, a flask of whiskey, and a couple two three Streets and San crews, there's not a single weather pattern we can't handle.