Opinion> Hillary Clinton> Talking It Over 1996 08 21

	1 Jan 2008 Talking It Over EDITORS NOTE: The following column is the first syndicated column written by Hillary Clinton for Creators Syndicate.… Read More.
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Talking It Over

Recently, a 3-year-old boy fell more than 18 feet into a gorilla exhibit at the Brookfield Zoo just outside Chicago. One of the seven gorillas in the exhibit picked up the child and, cradling him in her arms, carried him to safety.

I wasn't surprised to learn that the gorilla was from Chicago and from the same zoo I had visited so many times as a child. That gorilla's a true Chicagoan. Chicago and Chicagoans may be tough and intimidating on the outside, but we're a city and a people with hearts of gold.

I'm excited that so many Americans will be sharing in the hospitality of my hometown when the Democratic National Convention begins next week. How can a person not be enchanted by Chicago's beautiful lakefront, the ivy-covered walls of Wrigley Field or the brilliant skyline anchored by the Sears Tower? How can a person not be captivated by a city that contributes so much world-class theater, art, music and comedy to our cultural life?

For me, each visit home brings back warm memories. I grew up in Park Ridge, a northwestern suburb. While my favorite childhood restaurants, such as the Robin Hood and Pan Dee's, are long gone, many places all over the city still serve the deep-dish pizzas and the red hots (Chicagoland for hot dog) that I loved. Whenever I'm in town, I try to get together with my old high school friends for some beloved Chicago pastimes: Reminiscing and sharing a meal. Recently, when I arrived in Chicago, feeling tired from my book tour, my friends surprised me with a dinner of Chicago comfort food that lifted my spirits and expanded my waistline.

This spring, while driving to a speech at Triton College — a community college in River Grove that my mother once attended — I looked out the window and saw Kiddieland, the Walt Disney World of my childhood. On one or two special Sundays a year, my parents or grandparents would treat my brothers and me to a visit. I can picture the three of us in our Sunday best — my brothers sporting those little clip-on ties — lining up for pony rides, the roller coaster and carnival games.

School field trips took me to Chicago's finest museums.

The Museum of Science and Industry showed me what it was like to descend into a cold, dark coal mine. The Shedd Aquarium and the Adler Planetarium opened my eyes to new horizons of oceans and space.

But my favorite was the Field Museum, with its massive dinosaur skeletons and ancient mummies. I can still remember pressing my nose against the cool glass for a better look at a baby mummy. A chill ran down my spine when the museum guide said the baby had died while choking on a butterfly.

Whenever I pass the Art Institute of Chicago on Michigan Avenue, I think of the countless summer afternoons my mother and I spent in the Thorne Rooms, examining the miniature dioramas illustrating architectural and decorative styles from different time periods. Perhaps the most inspiring evening of my young life took place in Orchestra Hall in 1962, when I went with my church youth group to hear the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. speak.

Since moving to the White House, I've had many opportunities to return to these places. I've spoken to students at my old high schools — Maine East and Maine South. I've had the thrill of meeting the legendary Ernie Banks and throwing out the first ball for the Cubs on opening day at Wrigley Field in 1994. I've even shopped incognito for gifts for the President and Chelsea at Marshall Field's on State Street.

More than anything to me, Chicago is its people. Somehow, this "City of the Big Shoulders," as the poet Carl Sandburg called it, produces some of the toughest, no-nonsense men and women in America. People who get things done, who beat the odds, who know what it means to be a good neighbor. Maybe it's the challenge of braving the bone-chilling cold and massive snowdrifts of winter, or the experience of standing by our beloved Cubs, Bears, Bulls, White Sox and Black Hawks through thick and thin, or maybe it's the city's great ethnic diversity that makes us Chicagoans.

I don't know all the reasons that make Chicago so special to me. I just know it's my kind of town.