I haven't lived in Chicago for 20 years. I haven't missed it lately, either. I'm perfectly happy living in the mountains of the southwest. I adore the vivid clear blue skies, the crystalline clarity of the mornings, the ability to step out of a bathtub, towel yourself off, and be dry, something that was a rarity during Midwestern summers. I love having Indian ruins nearby, deserts within driving distance, skiing within driving distance the other way, mile upon mile upon mile of Ponderosa pines singing in the wind. I don't miss (too much) the ambience of the city, the ability to go wandering through art museums and science museums and huge libraries with windows that tower three stories high. I don't miss (too much) the wide variety of ethnic restaurants, kicky boutiques right next door to chic hair salons right next door to bakeries with pastries to die for. I don't miss all that water. Or so I thought. Then I come visit Tulsa in the springtime. What's that, you say?! TULSA?!?! You're writing this paeon to beautiful nature versus sophisticated cities, and you're talking about Tulsa??? Guys, don't laugh. Don't run me out of town on a rail. This city has--in the very few glimpses of it that I've gotten in between being force-fed massive amounts of very good food and going to breakout sessions--stolen my heart, I think. It's beautiful. There are all these trees, you see. Huge oaks and cottonwoods and maples and...with rolling, lush lawns and gardens...and little creeks winding through the neighborhoods...It's breaking my heart. It's taking me back to my childhood and adolescence and young adulthood in Chicago. All these trees are newly leafed out, with a particular vibrant green that is seen only in springtime, only in the midwest. Rolling landscapes. Neighborhoods where the houses are buried in trees, and no one house looks like another. Little narrow streets that curve this way and that, hooking into the larger grid. And today, they treated us to an outdoor catered dinner at this place. I was able to spend some time ogling artwork--sculptures; six-foot tall paintings with luminous colors leaping out at you; frescos; murals; formal gardens; huge trees; terraces, fountains, balconies, cupolas. I had forgotten how much I loved being able to go to museums. And even though it is "humid" (oh, yes, you midwesterners may think that 23% humidity is dry, dry, dry, but believe me, those of us who live in the southwest can walk outdoors in that 23% humidity and feel the water in the air), and "hot" (95F today), it's a springtime hot and humid, so it caresses your body instead of oppressing your soul, and it's not so humid that when you emerge from the shower and towel off, you feel like you need another shower to cool off. So Tulsa is joining one other midwest city on my list of absolutely beautiful places in the midwest that I might be willing to live in again; Kansas City, Missouri, is the other. You have no idea how this place has keyed into so many deeply buried physical and emotional memories of mine...