Living in Illinois is like living on a tablecloth. It’s flatter than a credit card. There are few, if any clumps, divets or elevations, excluding the Kahokia Indian mounds protruding here and there. We make up for this with a populace known for clumpiness, divet-ness, and an elevated sense of importance. Our only sense of closure, of boundary, lies in the scary fact that corny IOWAns live just west of us; and we are NOT them.

We have no sense whatsoever of being one with the land, since the place is like a big stretched canvas. Thus, we build any which way we like – no turrety houses hanging for dear life onto the streets like San Francisco, no caves carved into Buttes. No. If we want a kickin’ ranch, or a stiff colonial, a little Mosque on the prairie, or a geodesic; well, we just put her up.

Architecturally, Illinois comprises remnants. We are a remnant state. This fact contributes to the significance of sports and politics, which are just about the only concepts that bind us.