The Yarn Spinner

  Grand Crossing Something that is grand   evokes a sense of awe and magnificence. Think Grand Canyon or imagine a centuries old cathedral with towering spires that poke into the sky like fingers probing for God’s attention. The sheer scale and artistry inspire reverence, making it a place where time seems to stand still, drawing visitors into its history and beauty.   Grand Crossing isn’t grand. It’s about as remarkable as a   hot dog, sandwiched between two halves of a bun (Woodlawn and Marynook), mustard (Park Manor), Onions (South Shore) Neon Green Relish (Stony Island) and   a cucumber wedge (Chatham). Grand Crossing is a small Chicago neighborhood named after the surfeit of tic-tac-toe grids of railway track that was the most dangerous railroad crossing in the world. On September 1, 1907,   a Chicago newspaper reported “   After 30 Years of Accidents and Deaths, Railway Crossing to be made   same safe. Grand Crossing, as a terror to life, limb, and vehicle, will have ceased t

  It’s All About You   Six percent of Americans are said to be   full of it . Themselves. These   folks are claimed to believe the world revolves solely around them and they care little about anyone else. That means 94%   (of us, of course) are always nice, caring and focused on others, willing to help   etc.   It makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside, or does it ? A senior-citizen supermarket shopper collapses slowly slumping down to the bottom of his cart where you put the big stuff. A fellow   shopper standing less than six feet away rushes to help the patron and calls for the manager. You can tell he’s in the 94 percentile.   Right on Bro! The trouble is it doesn't happen. The grocery shopper nearby   is apparently temporarily blinded by the glare from the refrigerator’s glass door as he reaches for the cottage cheese. (Small curd because it is lower in calories, and something tells you it was the right choice.) The calorie-counter looks straight ahead and just wa

  Banking in the Afterlife The Legend of Linda from Leland Bank     Leland   Bank was a living Normal Rockwell painting -   small,   rural    bearing a unique charm and character that reflected the town’s close-knit community. The building was a modest structure,   made of   weathered clapboard with a simple entrance under a covered porch. The   paned windows   were large so people outside could see what was going on inside. The large cannonball safe* was strikingly visible. The interior was welcoming, although the floors creaked. The walls were lined with dated local photographs, 4 H posters, yellowed newspaper clippings, and a FarmWise calendar hung opposite a school clock.   A broad wooden counter spanned the front, where   tellers welcomed customers by name. Wooden desks were scuffed and scratched, showcasing a rich patina, while upholstery was faded and frayed. Still, the bank’s interior exuded a sense of warmth and nostalgia, reflecting years of memories and everyday l

  Flowbee                                                                                                       Back in the early 1950s,   comic books were   still around. My Favorite was the Katzenjammer Kids,   although those were hard to find. In the back of the comic, I would always like to look to see what quirky items were being advertised:   X-Ray Glasses: These were   classic comic book ad staples, promising the ability to see through objects, although kids soon found they were   just cardboard with a few colored lenses. A real gip.   Invisible Ink Kits: These kits included pens and special ink that could be used to write secret messages, which would only be visible under certain light conditions.   Giant Insects and Reptiles: Ads often featured rubber or plastic models of enormous insects or dinosaurs, which were marketed as   collectibles.   Magic Tricks and Illusion Kits: These ads offered a variety of magic tricks and illusion equipment, including the cl

  Mars Lights and Snap Decisions                                                                                                         He stands erect on the back step   gripping the sturdy, metal grab bars with both hands.: It reminds him of climbing the monkey bars as a kid. The fire truck, an   older model with a large bell and mechanical siren, races through the streets of 1930s Chicago. The fireman’s posture is tense and focused. He wants to avoid more back pain. He braces   against the motion of the truck and the wind whipping past his turn-out coat. The truck’s engine roars, and the sound of the siren blares, piercing through the urban din. But Engine 89’s headlights blend into the early morning traffic. They are sealed beams, but so are the lights on the fireman’s personal sedan.   There’s nothing visually distinct to announce the fire truck’s arrival in this matter of urgency. The fireman's face, partly obscured by the helmet, is set in a determined expression. Wit

  Train of Life                                                                                                  In the late stages of World War II, as the battle fronts were constantly shifting, the army   faced a dire situation with a high number of casualties and limited resources. Using a European   railway system became a crucial element in the evacuation and treatment of wounded soldiers. One particularly dramatic episode occurred in Europe during the winter of 1942. Army personnel   were operating a special hospital train that became known as the "Train of Life." This train was tasked with treating and transporting wounded soldiers from the front lines. The winter was harsh, and snow covered tracks hampered progress. Staff aboard the "Train of Life" worked tirelessly to stabilize the wounded and treat severely injured soldiers in sometimes slow-moving   jostling railroad carriages. Then matters became worse. During one particularly critical evacuation