I'm kind of missing living next to a park these days. Last year I had the luxury of living across the street from Humboldt Park. It is way nicer than anyone in Chicago gives it credit for, no thanks to the area's not-so-distant shady past (and somewhat shady present). At this point in time, the park is one of those great public places that is teeming with all kinds of people: from the local Puerto Rican community to fisherman to runners to incoming yuppies to hipsters (but strangely more yuppies than hipsters) to old men hanging out in lawn chairs all afternoon to the very special and extended groups of local crackheads. During the weekend it would fill up to what would be its capacity, if a park had such a thing. Every shady spot would be occupied with dozens of people all marking their spot with a grill, a blanket, and possibly a folding table and balloons.



It had everything you could ever ask from a city park: baseball fields, a formal garden, a meandering stream, historical buildings, bike paths, even a hilariously small "swimming hole" they dug out of the ground every May.




It was concurrently serene and chaotic- at once both a beautiful urban oasis and a trash-strewn cesspool. And it felt like mine...even though I liked to share the place with others.



In two years the whole damn street will probably go condo and I'll never get the chance to live there again, but it sure was fun while it lasted.