Margawrigleyville, Wriglaritaville - You Decide

...I'll be gone 500 miles before the day is done.

Labor Day weekend is more and more a weekend of historic and dramatic events across the country. Picnics, barbecueues, and water events have given way to sprawling public art events and experiments such as Burning Man in the southwest as well as historic citywide celebrations and concerts.

So what's big in Chicago? The historic first ever concert at Wrigley Field - Jimmy Buffet performed in the outfield in front of the ivy covered walls. Legions of parrotheads enjoyed the performance in a beautiful venue. I'd actually say that Wrigley is a better place for a concert than it is for a baseball game.

Pointedly, Buffet wore a shirt that read "New Orleans" across it and managed to bring across an inspiring message about supporting the rebuilding during the show. For is final encore, he and bandmate Hugh Prestwood sat in the right field bleachers and played "City of New Orleans" - a song my dad used to play for us when we were kids. The lyrics are below.

As that ivy starts to give out to autumn colors, we'll be looking forward to next year's Labor Day weekend as another chance to get together with close friends and have great experiences - maybe we'll even make it out to Burning Man.

City of New Orleans:

Riding on the City of New Orleans,
Illinois Central Monday morning rail
Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders,
Three conductors and twenty-five sacks of mail.
All along the southbound odyssey
The train pulls out at Kankakee
Rolls along past houses, farms and fields.
Passin' trains that have no names,
Freight yards full of old black men
And the graveyards of the rusted automobiles.

CHORUS:
Good morning America how are you?
Don't you know me I'm your native son,
I'm the train they call The City of New Orleans,
I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done.

Dealin' card games with the old men in the club car.
Penny a point ain't no one keepin' score.
Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle
Feel the wheels rumblin' 'neath the floor.
And the sons of pullman porter
And the sons of engineers
Ride their father's magic carpets made of steel.
Mothers with their babes asleep,
Are rockin' to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel.

CHORUS

Nighttime on The City of New Orleans,
Changing cars in Memphis, Tennessee.
Half way home, we'll be there by morning
Through the Mississippi darkness
Rolling down to the sea.
And all the towns and people seem
To fade into a bad dream
And the steel rails still ain't heard the news.
The conductor sings his song again,
The passengers will please refrain
This train's got the disappearing railroad blues.

Good night, America, how are you?
Don't you know me I'm your native son,
I'm the train they call The City of New Orleans,

I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done.