A sign hanging behind the front desk of the Sheil Park recreation center at 3505 N. Southport reads:
--WE HAVE A DREAM--THAT ONE YEAR FROM NOW, WE WILL SEE A LOCAL PARK REGISTRATION PROCESS THAT IS REVOLUTIONARY AND EMPOWERING IN SCOPE AND UTILIZES MODERN TECHNOLOGICAL ADVANCEMENTS TO PRODUCE A CLEARLY DEFINED CITY-WIDE STANDARDIZED PROCESS WHICH IS NOT ONLY EFFECIENT, BUT ALSO SATISFIES OUR CUSTOMERS.
On an incredibly slick February afternoon, at the corner of Augusta and Ashland, a police car, apparently a victim of the roads, had slid up onto the sidewalk. One officer was pushing while the other tried to drive, and the tires were whirring noisiliy in the icy slush when around the corner came three teenage boys. There was a moment when all action ceased, as the boys and the cops eyed each other. Then the boys tossed down their schoolbooks, ruched to the car, and gave a mighty push. The car jumped free, the cops waved their thanks, and the boys picked up their books and resumed walking home.
The young man suavely approached the woman seated at the bar. Sidling up next to her, he moved in for the kill.
"Some people think I'm uninhibited," he stated, looking her in the eye.
Lightly tapping the side of her head with her index finger, she replied. "I'd guess uninhabited."