I found this on the street last week and decided to bring it back to life—thought I’d post about it. I fixed one leg, filled some holes, sanded it and painted it black. I painted the drawers teal and gave it some knew knobs “drawer pulls,” from Anthropology (thanks Mk). I’ll eventually give it a new top but for now that’ll do. Check out the before pic after the jump.
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Sean

In lieu of regaling (aka boring) everyone with my tales of eating and drinking in the friendliest and most photogenic city I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, I will share a poem published in 1916 by Socialist and honorary Chicagoan Carl Sandburg. I give you: Chicago.

Hog Butcher for the World,
Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat,
Player with Railroads and the Nation’s Freight Handler;
Stormy, husky, brawling,
City of the Big Shoulders:
They tell me you are wicked and I believe them, for I have seen your painted women under the gas lamps luring the farm boys.
And they tell me you are crooked and I answer: Yes, it is true I have seen the gunman kill and go free to kill again.
And they tell me you are brutal and my reply is: On the faces of women and children I have seen the marks of wanton hunger.
And having answered so I turn once more to those who sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer and say to them:
Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning.
Flinging magnetic curses amid the toil of piling job on job, here is a tall bold slugger set vivid against the little soft cities;
Fierce as a dog with tongue lapping for action, cunning as a savage pitted against the wilderness,
Bareheaded,
Shoveling,
Wrecking,
Planning,
Building, breaking, rebuilding,
Under the smoke, dust all over his mouth, laughing with white teeth,
Under the terrible burden of destiny laughing as a young man laughs,
Laughing even as an ignorant fighter laughs who has never lost a battle,
Bragging and laughing that under his wrist is the pulse, and under his ribs the heart of the people, Laughing!
Laughing the stormy, husky, brawling laughter of Youth, half-naked, sweating, proud to be Hog Butcher, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and Freight Handler to the Nation.

Present-day Chicago is a far cry from its rough-and-tumble roots, but Sandburg’s Chicago still lies just below the surface. Once known for its abundance of murders and meat, the new Windy City celebrates art and architecture above all. Millennium Park is a day in itself, from the infamous (and frankly, baffling) Cloud Gate (pictured above) to the Gehry-designed Jay Pritzker Pavilion. Focus on architecture is evident all throughout the city’s neighborhoods, both in commercial and residential areas, which makes it ideal for a walking tour.

Food and drink take a close second to beauty, and though the old-school steakhouses still abound, there is also a refreshing food culture asserting itself throughout the city that features an emphasis on good beer and good humor. (To experience for yourself, try burger shack Kuma’s Corner or beer-centric Publican, which is housed in what was once an industrial pork cooler.)  

There is never enough time to fully explore all Chicago has to offer. Thanks to Jonathan for a vacation to remember, and to Dad for sending me the poem.

Lizzie