The Great Escape, Schiller Park: Food by Wind (and, I’m sure, gas)
The phrase “tilting at windmills” was coined from the most influential book of the Spanish Golden Age,
The Ingenious Hidalgo Don Quixote of La Mancha.
Wikipedia defines the phrase as, “an English idiom which means attacking imaginary enemies, or fighting unwinnable or futile battles.” I believe this to be an apt summary of America’s energy policies.
In this classic great 17th century novel, the hapless protagonist imagines himself a knight-errant, and fumbles about on multiply mistaken quests of chivalry. Hilarities and humiliations ensue.
As a kid, I remember celebrating Jimmy Carter installing solar panels on the roof of The White House. Tax credits were offered to home owners to do the same. Most solar panels you see in your neighborhood are probably from this time, many still operating. One of Ronald Reagan’s first acts was to repeal the credit and had the panels torn down. One step forward two steps back. That was what, 30 years ago? A worthy battle never won.
Only the most cynical and daft could argue against using renewable resources. Still there are those who express that there is no energy crisis, no climate change, nothing to panic about here. I will abide no such company. Even Glenn Beck, though, when off camera has stated
linkGlen Beck (interviewed not wrote) wrote:"You'd be an idiot not to notice the temperature change," he says. He also says there’s a legit case that global warming has, at least in part, been caused by mankind. He has tried to do his part by buying a home with a "green" design and using energy-saving products. "I’m willing to do anything but use the CFLs," he says of compact fluorescent light bulbs. "I put them in once and couldn't stand the way they lit up the room."
(I will not beat this dead horse long, reader.)
“Tilting at windmills” is not a perfect metaphor. I like windmills, and don’t want to fight them. There is something romantic and phantastic about them. Dreamy-like. Futility I feel, not at defeat by imaginary monster, but at saddling-up against an all powerful foe. David v Goliath. But David keeps losing. A Sisyphean task.
On an unsightly stretch of Irving Park, a jaunty 1.1 miles west of
The Magic Waters of Che-Che-Pin-Qua, and approximately 0.9 zippy miles east of a border to Orchard Field, just east of a prone-to-flood, eyesore railroad underpass, and an intermodal transportation yard, is a welcoming looking restaurant, The Great Escape.

The restaurant / bar boasts that Al Capone and Tom Mix were regulars, in the day, if you know what I mean. The menu is heavy on the falling-off-the-bone ribs and the broasted chicken. The décor is glass on linen. The prices are reasonable. Specials can shine. No destination food, but fully competent, with minor flaws. That’s not the reason I go there though.
Seems the Great Escape got sick of paying their power bill. And took matters into their own hands. You’d think it would be easy after all these years … uhuh ...
As I streak west along Irving, as I’m winding up to Des Plaines River Road, I see it. A beacon, a compelling force, a thing of beauty. A massive wind turbine, spinning proudly and powerfully on the horizon. My jaw drops in awe as I approach, and hear its gentle composed whine of generation. The air seems to crackle with wizardly power.

May the sun bless your hale children, may the wind carry you free, may the seas and seeds feed your bellies, let your minds be wise and at ease.
The Great Escape9540 Irving Park Road
Schiller Park, IL
847.671.7171
-ramon