Maybe it was a compliment.

I’m sitting on a bench. In Water Tower Place. In the heart of Chicago. Watching people. Knowing full well these are mostly natives. Maybe not all born here. But they’ve become. It’s the way they dress. And relax. Casual. Informal. This isn’t Rome or London or Vienna or Venice. It’s undeniably Chicago. I tell my Italian true love, ‘Look around. And tell me, who’s the best dressed?’ Of course, it’s the two of us. We look classy. Cosmopolitan. European.  We are the visitors.  Though I was born in Chicago. But I haven’t been back in a long time. I’ve become more like an Italian. Maybe even an Italian  gentleman. Or so I tell myself. With a grin. My true love says I look like a Chicagoan. I wonder. Maybe that’s a compliment. –Jim Broede