TRUE AMERICAN NATIVE SON
We are in Illinois now and have just crossed the Mississippi. It's big alright. But you might ask, per the last discussion, compared to what? If you take the question seriously, then you would have to decide what big meant in terms of a river: Length, width, depth, flow, or some combination of these measurements? We would need to develop a chart. Let us leave that for another day, okay?
We could also take the question from a poetic point of view.
That is silly but more fun than charts.
We could also go jump in the river, which would be one way to end this discussion.
At about this point I got a call from
Amtrak telling me that my connecting train in Chicago, The City of New
Orleans, has been cancelled due to flooding. But they told me to come
on into Chicago—what else could I do?—and they would work something out to
get me to New Orleans.
Note: This was written slightly before
the Occupy Wall Street protests began, the first on 17 September 2011 at
Zuccotti Park in New York City and spreading to many other cities.
When I finally got to New Orleans, I was greeted by a
pickpocket with a riddle—a distraction technique—who then tried to get my
money belt but failed. I had met one of America's native sons who was not a
banker or a politician.