
"Illinois Pet Cemetery is the oldest pet cemetery. It's a family-run business, started in 1926 by my grandfather. He got the idea during the first world war, when he saw one in France. He got killed in a car accident in 1930, two weeks before my father was born, while he was out selling a headstone. The steering wheel went through his chest. At the time of his death, he had a pet ambulance service and a pet newspaper, the Pet Lover's Review. He also sold pet insurance.

Maybe he misinterpreted the news that Chicago recently launched on-street bike parking.
The discerning diner finds little solace in the total culinary bummer that is the Loop, where options range from overpriced steak houses all the way down to Dunkin' Donuts, by way of Panda Express. But there's another path—a bit of Madison, Wisconsin, in Chicago, Illinois. Kramer's the health food store, at 230 S. Wabash, hides Kramer's the health food cafe, a little balcony tucked into the shop's rear. Past aisles of herbal teas and raw energy bars, ascend the stairs; wait in line; listen, as I did recently, to two businessmen discussing Paul Krugman's The Conscience of a Liberal over lunch. The menu ranges from falafel to veggie burgers to a cheap daily special—last Thursday it was vegetable fried rice with seitan ($5.69), served in a warm heap. This stuff tastes homemade as opposed to "house-made," and that's not to damn it with faint praise: it's actually just really satisfying food. Drinks: full juice bar, natural sodas. Condiments: Bragg's Liquid Aminos, cayenne pepper, Spike seasoning salt. Decor: eclectic. Meat: fake.
About four years ago somebody handed Geoff Benge a clear piece of plastic—brand name Lucite; another form of the stuff is Plexiglas—and he decided to apply his trade to it. Benge, who owns an instrument repair shop in Roscoe Village, made the plastic into a guitar.
This week's Chicagoan: Gary Bloze, owner, Illinois Pet Cemetery
First-person accounts from off the beaten track, as told to Anne Ford "Illinois Pet Cemetery is the oldest pet cemetery. It's a family-run business, started in 1926 by my grandfather. He got the idea during the first world war, when he saw one in France. He got killed in a car accident in 1930, two weeks before my father was born, while he was out selling a headstone. The steering wheel went through his chest. At the time of his death, he had a pet ambulance service and a pet newspaper, the Pet Lover's Review. He also sold pet insurance.
"My grandmother ran the cemetery from 1930 to 1972, and she made it her life. Her name was Marie C. Bloze. She was a very personable person. She really loved to talk with people. Especially after a death, everybody needs to talk.
The A. Finkl & Sons steel forging company offers an opportunity for short-cutting cyclists and other passersby to approximate a visit to hell; there's no better front-row view in town of fiery pits and spitting sparks. That stretch of Southport also serves (depending on your orientation) as a portal to Lincoln Park or Wicker Park. Coincidence? Founded in 1879, Finkl kicks out 100,000 tons of steel annually. But the plant and its Industrial Revolution-era grit won't be around forever. It's been reported that Finkl is picking up and moving to the south side.
Have a peculiar observation or favorite oddity about a neighborhood? E-mail it to zoomin@chicagoreader.com.
"When the Limelight opened, I was in high school. Andy Warhol was going to be there. It coincided with a family trip to Chicago, and I remember lobbying my father: 'Please, can we just drive by it?' If you could work where Andy Warhol hung out, that was OK with me.
Each week, the Reader takes a closer look at a place worth knowing about
As it awaits its conversion by the City of Chicago into a multiuse trail and linear park, a plan that's been in the works since 2004, the city and some of its residents have tried to lock down the future Bloomingdale Trail, deterring trespassers by barricading entrances with chain-link and iron fencing. But if you're resourceful enough, there are ways around that. The Bucktown entrance on the west side of Leavitt, just north of Milwaukee, has a hole cut in a section of chain-link and an embankment that allows you to scale up to the Bloomingdale overpass of Milwaukee.
"I'm adopted, and my parents got me when they were older. They were both active in World War II. Gardening was just something you did then. In 1997, my husband Peter and I moved to a condo and didn't have a garden. After seven springs of 'Aaaa! Must garden! Can't garden!,' I found this recipe for stacked tomato salad. I was like, 'This would be so much better with your own homegrown tomatoes.' That was the last straw. One morning Peter said, 'Should we go look for houses? Wait, should we go look for yards?' We ended up buying a yard with a house attached to it.