My childhood was not without pain. Though I grew up with a
loving family in an idyllic place, I often found myself hurt and alone; for on
the North Side of Chicago, I was but one of a small group of people who was the
butt of other people’s jokes. This group to which I belong has a condition that
somehow makes it acceptable to be mocked, belittled, and teased by others. The circumstance
that leads to this institutionalized bullying? Being a White Sox fan.
Don’t get me wrong. I understand the appeal of being a Cubs
fan. It’s a quick ride to the Wrigley Field on the red line; the park has
pretty ivy and is the backdrop for awesome films like A League of Their Own; Wrigleyville is a lively area, especially ideal
for people between the ages of 21 and 21½. And as much fun as I’ve had at Cubs
games, at the end of the day I still would rather root for a team that, you
know, wins? That at least looks like they’re trying? That at least cares enough
to cheat? (What’s up, AJ Pierzynski!) When I was about 8 years old, I caught a
foul ball at Comiskey (and when I say “caught,” I mean the man behind me caught
it and dropped it and didn’t have the heart to take it away from me after I
picked it up off the ground). The next week, I brought in the ball to show-and-tell
and the whole class just yawned at me, like I may as well have brought in a dog
turd that I found on the sidewalk. Then the following week (ok it may have been
months, but the week difference helps me build a better contrast), a student I
shall call “Harry” brought in a foul ball that he caught at Wrigley. He wasn’t even finished
explaining how he acquired it before boys were jumping out of their seats to
get a better look, asking how many times Mark Grace touched it, where his seats
were, and reminiscing about the times they came thisclose to catching a ball themselves. And in that moment, seeing
how differently they reacted to his foul ball than mine, I decided: it wasn’t any
inherent sexism that caused the class to like a boy’s baseball story better
than mine; it wasn’t that Harry perhaps showed-and-told his story more
engagingly and enthusiastically; it wasn’t that the class genuinely did love
the Cubs; the truth is that all Chicagoans overhype everything on the North
Side while completely undervaluing the South Side, even though the majority of
the time, the South Side is way better.
This North-South paradox, as I have come to call it even
though I’m sure there’s a better name out there, is also true of the beaches.
As Katie and I planned to go to 31st St and Oakwood Beaches, I set
the bar low. After all, hardly anybody ever seemed to enter or exit Lake Shore
Drive around these parts, and the surrounding neighborhoods aren’t exactly
Chicago’s most celebrated. I didn’t even put on a bathing suit or bring a towel
to visit these places. And for that, I am so ashamed. These beaches, well, they’re
pretty darned cute.
Both beaches have been renovated and updated during the past
couple years. The neighboring bicycle and jogging path is freshly paved, but
nearly empty, and a much better alternative to the cracked and crowded path on
the North Side. The city thoughtfully landscaped the area with sustainable
native plants, including beautiful prairie grasses that strikingly contrast with
the nearby lake. 31st Street Beach was nearly empty (though in
fairness, it had rained earlier in the morning). The beach isn’t huge, but
definitely accommodates the lower number of beach-goers. While we were there,
only a couple swimmers appeared, but a local camp used a large area to play a
game of touch football, and there was still tons of room to spare. It was heartwarming
to see about 20 little boys and 1 girl running around in the sand (Michelle
Obama would be proud), and Katie and I were pumped to see the girl run almost
the entire length of the field to score one of the game’s two touchdowns
(Michelle Obama would be even prouder).
31st St Beach boasts a photo-worthy view of
downtown skyscrapers. Its piers thankfully block the view of Gary’s shoreline
factories, but the piers themselves are very industrial-looking and kind of
tetanus-y. The beachhouse has the requisite emergency-only bathrooms and a
concession stand, though the stand was closed. We’re not sure what the story is
there, but it’s likely that it opens only on weekends.
The best part about this beach is its proximity to 31stSt Harbor, a marina so new that about half the slips are still seemingly
unoccupied. The harbor has special locker rooms that need a code to be entered,
but I bet if you hung out around there long enough, you could find a nice
sailor who would let you in, just in case the metal seats in the public
restrooms aren’t your thing. There is underground parking at the marina (in
addition to the pay-and-display street parking) and the best part is that on
this parking garage’s roof is a naturally landscaped garden and THE COOLEST
PLAYGROUND EVER. Seriously, there’s rock climbing and balance beams and tire
swings and enough stuff that Katie and I are hoping that one of our readers
will lend us their kid(s) for the day so we can go back to this park without
being total creepos. (I mean, we already watched the campers’ football game
close enough that we knew the score. This was not the time to push our luck.)
Not too far from the park is a garden walk that lets you appreciate the
sustainable planting, and a picnic area to enjoy some food in the shade.
Oakwood Beach is just one exit farther south on LSD, or a
twenty-minute walk via the running path. (Another plug for the near-empty path:
there are workout stations every quarter-mile or so.) Oakwood Beach is
virtually identical to 31st St Beach, except that there is no
harbor. However, Oakwood makes up for that with one of the most spectacular
views of the skyline I have seen. I know the views from Oak St Beach and North
Ave are often celebrated, but I find Oakwood’s to be preferable, because you’re
still close enough to see building details clearly, yet can see the entire city
expanse, including Sears Tower. 
Oakwood’s restrooms are one step above “emergency”—they’re
respectable! Hooray for lockable doors on stalls! Like at 31st St,
the concession stand was curiously closed, but this beach felt a little more
energetic because it hosts the junior lifeguarding program, which basically
looks like a small summer camp for slightly more capable swimmers. Our favorite
part of this beach is how the shore slopes dramatically downward to the water—there’s
probably a twenty foot drop from the height of the beach to the waterline—and the
slope gives the appearance and feeling of dunes. You could lay down here and be
perched at about a 30-degree angle toward the water; it’s like a beach chair,
without the annoying beach chair! The sand was a little coarse, probably
because it was only shipped in within the last year or two, but there are
treasures within: Katie found a rock with crystals on it, and now she has her
very own geode!
Both beaches feature ample parking for $1 an hour; even if
you’re not interested in the beaches, the lots would be great places to leave
your car while you go for a shoreline jog or bike ride. While the lack of
concessions at these beaches and the noticeable trash along the shore concerned
us, the serenity, open space, and beautiful views from these beaches are enough
to bring us back again.
Till next time, be kind—especially to Sox fans!
And p.s., we’re serious about taking one of your kids to
that playground sometime. Just let us know.
Address: 31st St, 3100 S.; Oakwood, 4100 S.
Parking: Available meter parking at both
Atmosphere: 31st, “a geode in the sand” (get it? Like
diamond in the rough, but more modest?); Oakwood, serene and charming
Food and Restrooms: Yes to restrooms, sometimes to food
Overall Grade: 31st, B; Oakwood, B
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