THE LOOP — As we reach the fall equinox, visitors to downtown are in for a photogenic treat as the sun aligns perfectly with Chicago’s grid layout to create a sensational sunset lightshow known as “Chicagohenge.”
Photographers and practitioners of ancient druidic rites are particular fans of the biannual natural phenomena, the former for the opportunity to capture the beauty of Chicago’s downtown, the latter for the chance to tap into the magical weave of all things. Paul Pendergrass, 42, archdruid of The Oak Park Conclave, shared plans to use the alignment with the sun to perform a ritual that would guarantee a good season for the Chicago Bears.
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“Yep, with the sun in equinox and the full moon waning, we have an opportunity to secure a halfway decent season with the blessing of the All Mother,” said Pendergrass, who traveled to the location of Chicagohenge from his condo in Oak Park in full druidic regalia, plus a Bears jersey he swears is lucky.
The Chicago Bears have long relied on traditions to guide them, and years of misfortune have been attributed to lapses in these rituals. Pendergrass told us that his actions at Chicagohenge would “restore the balance.”
“It used to be just a part of the preseason! The team even got involved,” said Pendergrass. “
Did you think ‘The Super Bowl Shuffle’ was just a novelty rap hit? No, that was an ancient ritual shuffle, performed to guarantee victory in battle and a large apple harvest!”
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According to Pendergrass, the Bears streak of losing seasons is due to a mix of weak offense, terrible defense, bad coaching, and that no one on the team will gather with him in an ancient grove, even though he sends them signs in their dreams.
“Only person who ever showed up to the appointed spot in the last twelve years was Jay Cutler and he flicked a cigarette at a bird. Guess who ate shit versus the Seahawks that year?”
When the sunset approaches and the Chicagohenge in full effect, Pendergrass said he’d offer some grain and wine to The Earth Rider in hopes that even if it didn’t bring back his team to full strength, it would at least keep him from losing his fantasy football league again.
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“Please, spirits of the natural world, the old gods that still watch and listen, give me a good decent offensive line this season,” Pendergrass said, his arms up to the sky, his body illuminated in the fiery light of the equinox sun, “or they’ll make me do stand up at an open mic again. My jokes about being a druid really bombed last time.”
