Centennial Fountain, the first sign of spring

As a resident of the Shoreham, my apartment window faces the Chicago River and, during the warmer months, I enjoy watching the Centennial Fountain arc majestically across the river. It is my personal giant water clock. Since the fountain only operates during the first ten minutes of each hour, I keep track of my day by noting when it showers upon unfortunate tour boats.

For some people, the first sign of winter is the first freeze, or the first snowfall. For me, it’s the first day I wake up, gaze out expectantly, and realize the fountain has been silenced for the next six months. I miss my water clock during this time. It is like a good friend who has moved away. I do not celebrate the arrival of summer when the geese reappear or the flowers bloom, but when the mighty swoosh of the Centennial Fountain returns.

My fondest memory of the fountain involves kayaking back in the days when the closest kayak rental was at the North Avenue Bridge. A friend and I decided to paddle to Navy Pier, a three-hour round trip. As we approached the mouth of the river, I looked back at the clock on the Wrigley Building and saw that we were seconds away from the top of the hour, meaning that we were about to get drenched by the Centennial Fountain. Rather than wait, we decided to go for it.

Imagining a 90-minute return journey in clothes soaked by river water, I paddled more vigorously than ever before. I felt like Indiana Jones racing against a sliding door trap, except I wore a baseball cap rather than a fedora.

We made it by mere seconds. The fountain roared to life as we passed by it, cinematically sealing off the route behind us. We laughed and raised our paddles in victory.

Then we paddled back under the fountain to get doused. After all, we’d won, and when would we get another chance to paddle under a fountain?

— Matthew Reiss, Community Contributor