Once a year, everyone should fly into their home airport at sunset.

That’s what I did today and it was amazing. Little did I realize that less than ten minutes flying-time south of downtown Chicago is mile upon mile of red barns and farmland. The freeways that edge the city’s outskirts connect like patterns of lace. And familiar businesses and homes look downright spectacular washed in the glow of the setting sun.

But all too soon our descent took us into O’Hare and our perspective became horizontal again. Once again we were part of the scene, rather than awestruck observers.

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