Interim

     Between two major cities - New York and Chicago - we stayed with two families. The first was in New York State. I still had New York City all over my skin. I felt like an overly highlighted text. The words have the same meaning but they take on a new importance under those neon colors.
     Our break from city lights was a cult town called Chautauqua. Within the town exists a massive gated grounds called The Institute. During the summer months people, mainly older, come from all around to live in The Institute. The town is run by The Institute. It is a faceless machine that is fueled on and by the residents of the small town. The family we stayed with was not exempt.
     Like gonzo spies, Dave and I infiltrated the guarded entrance to The Institute with the help of the kind family. The place resembled the port towns I had visited in Cape Cod. The houses stood out like snaggleteeth from different periods of time, giving the sense of a relaxed and lengthy development. Everything required for a self serving existence was present. The enclosed city was the closest I've seen to a working utopia. Single digit aged children rode bicycles on the dimming streets without peer or parental guidance. Adults were scarce like desert wildlife. We came upon an outdoor auditorium and an oasis of gray hairs formed around a speaker on the subject of race in our governmental system.
     Chautauqua had a church for all the big religions and seemed more like a prestigious retirement home than anything else. I still don't fully grasp what goes on at The Institute with its themed weeks and grand monetary circulation, but I was ready to start forgetting it.
     The second family we stayed with lived in Cleveland, Ohio. They were the wealthy parents of Dave's cousin and soon to be Los Angeles roommate. Mrs. Whitaker opened her house and refrigerator with the courtesy of the patron of a hard up five star hotel. Dave and I concocted sandwiches that could paint with all the colors of the wind due to the degree of condiments that were applied. I managed to read a small book on the drinking culture of the late preppy generation. They sure knew their liquor. Mr. Whitaker took us to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. The architecture was the most interesting part. It was like learning about American history. Somewhat enlightening, mostly dull.
     Our hearts were ready for Chicago. It was time for us to discover what all the hubbub was about.