Heck, Even Champaign

The News actually comes out against the couch ban in a Sunday editorial. Sometimes friends can be found in the most unexpected places.

Also, a man from Evanston is convinced (reg. req.) that “Madison, Ann Arbor, heck, even Champaign, Dekalb and Normal” are superior to his own community in “feel, ambience [and] all the unique little independent retailers.”

15 Responses to “Heck, Even Champaign”


  1. As is my policy, if the Ann Arbor News is for something, then I must be against it. Ban couches from porches! The News must never be right.


  2. Actually I was more curious about the proposal to restrict flowers and vegatation. Not being from around here, could someone please tell me what a “vegetarian ordinance” is?


  3. I think normally the main purpose of a vegetation ordinance is to force people to mow their lawns. I have to say I’m in favor of that aspect of it–when I lived in the OFW, my roommates and I couldn’t use our meager little patch of front yard because the landlord refused to mow it more than once every other month. Since we had a dog, this was a problem for us. I am certainly NOT in favor of banning everything but dwarf snapdragons from being planted on the treelawn, however.


  4. It’s true: Evanston’s a hole.


  5. OK. For a moment there I thought the News was reporting a law regulating meat-eating.


  6. That’s not impossible.


  7. Vegetation ordinances (a big oops on the News’ part) tend to be even more openly appearance-based than the couch ban. There are good reasons for them (like maintaining visibility for drivers at intersections, or keeping the sidewalks from being overgrown and thus unusable, or, as c-loh notes, giving tenants some leverage against their landlords), but they’re mainly implemented to force your neighbors to keep their lawns “nice” looking, and I’ve seen them used to force people to cut down their front yard vegetable gardens when the neighbors decided that the tomato plants looked “messy”.


  8. They’d have to take me away in chains before I cut down my tomato plants!

    Speaking of which, I harvested my first ripe tomato yesterday and ate it this morning. Divine.


  9. Never been to Evanston, so I’ll take this guy’s word for it. Does this mean that AA, Madison, Champaign, Dekalb, and Normal are the Athens, Vienna, Paris, Florence, and Rome of the Midwest?


  10. Yes, in that order.

    Evanston isn’t that bad. I thought it was the coolest place ever when I was at Northwestern math summer camp. Like A2, it’s an expensive suburb, but it’s actually a suburb of something.


  11. Alex, I just harvested my first tomato last week and ate it like an apple– it made me never want to buy another one from California in the winter again. No comparison.


  12. I’m still waiting for my tomatoes! Every day I ride my bike out to my Zion plot and they’re still on the vine, fat and green. But I must say the peppers and broccoli have been fantastic this year.


  13. damn, I still can’t get my broccoli to flower! But those turnips are rocking out for sure. And I can’t the yield I’ve gotten from a measly *1* buttercrunch and *1* spinach plant.

    Plus I’m on my third batch of pesto.


  14. “I thought it was the coolest place ever when I was at Northwestern math summer camp.”

    There’s something to be said for considering the source here…


  15. The El stations in Evanston have big signs saying “34 Minutes to the Loop!” (Or some number close to that.)

    My father got his Ph.D. (history) from Northwestern and, in the meantime, taught in Evanston Township High School (ETHS). He was the first Jew they ever hired to teach there. In about 1958, the school suddenly got nervous about their no-Jews policy, and decided to hire one (1) Jewish teacher. My father won out over hundreds of other applicants to be ETHS’s token Jew.

    One other Evanston thing. Just north of the Chicago/Evanston city limits, right at the lake shore, is Calvary Cemetery. The cemetery land is flat, and has a straight road that goes directly from the front gate to the back gate. You can see all the way through it. There are almost no trees or bushes. It has a high fence on all sides. And everything within miles is dense urban/suburban development.

    Yet Calvary Cemetery has several deer living in it, cavorting and hiding among the Catholic crosses and grave monuments. Nobody knows how they got there.