Our smarter-than-smart friends from Chicago must have giggled at the thought of little Richton Park, with a population of about 13,000, trying to get the big-city Chicago Bears to locate a stadium on a 1,000-acre parcel of vacant land next to Interstate 57.
The south suburban community’s feet may be too small for this glass slipper, but village Mayor Rick Reinbold wants to give his town a place in line.
Those who snicker at the idea that the big city team with an estimated value of nearly $6 billion would decide to relocate its playing field to a small south suburban town may not understand how important it is for any community to improve its economic lot and take its place with the likes of Arlington Heights, Aurora and Naperville.
And that, dear reader, may be the main reason Reinbold asked for a Cinderella’s chance when he wrote to Bears President and CEO Kevin Warren.
In his letter, Reinbold describes his town as a “lively and diverse community” and one that “sits in the middle of an affluent middle and upper-middle class swath” of nearby towns.
Over the decades, economic development in the south suburbs was linked to a domino theory of open and shuttered shopping centers, from Chicago Heights to the Park Forest Plaza, to Lincoln Mall in Matteson and now to the La Grange Road area of shops and stoplights in Orland Park.
More business in any community is the rising tide that lifts a lot of boats.
Ideally, business pays two-thirds of a community’s yearly property tax with the rest of us picking up the final third. But without enough business revenue, we give you one guess as to who has to make up the difference.
Some communities gamble on the future.
We are told that by 2025, a $529 million casino in Homewood will primarily benefit both Homewood and the neighboring village of East Hazel Crest. Both Lynwood and Calumet City lost out in the early rounds. Matteson made it to the finals but its plan to redevelop what was once Lincoln Mall did not sway the judges.
OK, a new Bears stadium in Richton Park sounds much too fanciful, but the response should not be “why?” but “why not?”
Bird noises
We once read that house wrens sing their distinctive chirp-chirp song as a greeting, but I am not sure that is the case with Mr. and Mrs. wren who shared a nest in the wooden gourd hanging from a pole in our backyard.
Our first sighting of the new tenants established the unmistakable fact that this mama wren would soon produce chicks. The gourd, hanging from a pole near our backyard window, with a hole just large enough for wrens, became the best available site to raise a family.
Bird laws are simple, and “finders’ keepers” is at the top of any avian list.
From then on, both wrens began building a nest of small sticks and shards of grass inside the gourd. Every so often, the wrens would contrive to get a large twig into the gourd by moving it side-to-side, up-and-down, twisting and turning until it disappeared inside. It was bird level engineering at its best.
“I think there are eggs in the gourd,” madame told me one day.
That condition was indicated when with each trip we made out of our house we were greeted with a long trill from a wren who would leave the nest, fly to a nearby tree branch and begin chirping. It might have been a greeting, but it also may be a way to announce the arrival of wingless strangers in an attempt to lure them away from the nest with its song. “Here I am, not there, here I am” may have been the message, and if that is the case, it is the noble sacrifice four-legged and winged animals understand because there still are beasts with two legs roaming their world.
When the eggs hatched, momma and poppa began a daily quest for food. Bugs, insects and small creepy-crawlies were dietary staples for the chicks. Soon, perhaps on the day you read this, the chicks will be big enough to leave.
Life goes on for those who stay and watch and for those who fly away.
