On Sunday, Game Day, we were caught up in our shared football passion. What would we wear to sit in the cold at Soldier Field? Most of our fan apparel was for warm southern weather so we had to wear layers of our blue and black Panther colors that we brought. Scarves and gloves and stocking caps, too.
what we would have worn in South Carolina
“Let’s don’t bother with the blanket,” I said. “It’s too much trouble to carry it through the Art Institute.” Did I mention we were taking a detour to spend a couple of hours at the Art Institute on our way to the football game at Soldier Field? “I think we might need the blanket,” Teresa said. “You know I’ll be glad to carry it.” I reluctantly added it to our bag of extra scarves, head gear and binoculars. And off we went. The day was breathtakingly beautiful with bright sunlight, but the wind whipped its way into our bodies as it blew across Lake Michigan and onto the streets of Chicago as we walked.
The Art Institute was crowded with the people who were not on their way to the Bears game. We covered as much as we could and were thrilled with the works of some of the same European artists we loved in Florence, Italy, last year. The mixture of artists and mediums was a visual assault. The personal discovery of a painting by Antonio Mancini called “Lady Resting”captured our attention. It was the only one by him, and we couldn’t believe how much this eighteenth century woman looked like Teresa with her dark skin and even darker eyes and hair. I remembered when my Uncle Ray met her the first time he visited in our home from Texas and asked if she were Eye-talian. How little we know of ourselves in this life. Maybe she was?
We left art behind and joined the processional of Bears fans walking to the playoff game. Da Bears were out in full force – we were quite conspicuous in our Panther blues. We walked and walked and walked some more through Millenium Plaza and Park down to the Field Museum across from the new Soldier Field. I had to stop for a breather to sit for a few minutes before the final push to the game. And Da Bears just kept coming.
We made our way to the entrance where we handed our tickets to the gatekeepers. Teresa went through just fine. “Your bar code’s invalid,” the ticket guy said to me when he scanned my ticket. My heart stopped. I couldn’t speak. I had ordered the tickets from an online ticket vendor called TicketDaddy, and I was nervous about their appearance when I got them in the FedEx package before we left. The man kept trying to scan my ticket without success and finally called his supervisor to take a look. He must have sensed that the senior citizen with the ticket was about to go into cardiac arrest if she didn’t get past him. The supervisor tapped my code into a hand-held computer that accepted it and told me to go in. I could breathe again.
Teresa had been waiting for me while this minor melodrama had taken place but hadn’t heard what was going on. She said it was better she hadn’t. We were handed souvenir Bears rally towels as we went in. I almost didn’t take one. Then the fellow passing them out said, “Hey, it’s the Playoffs. You’ll need yours for crying when you lose anyway.” I took one.
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I'll Call It Like I See It 
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