There is nothing more enjoyable than partaking in an all you can eat Christmas buffet lunch with a group of friends. That was how my Chicago Global Strategy Luncheon turned out two weeks ago.

Guests came from Detroit, Canada, and remote Illinois. The abundance of roast beef, ham, and turkey on our plates matched the tales of outsized trading returns in 2014. We all had much to give thanks for.

I even managed to dispense some career advice for some of the guests? kids, and no, it was not to go into plastics (with apologies to The Graduate).

Mad Day Trader, Jim Parker, was there to back up, or dispute my own market views. Jim has had a particularly hot hand of late, and attendees vigorously pumped him for more guidance.

Countless personal financial advisors have told me that the market color he provides is invaluable, freeing them up for more productive client interactions.

After the lunch, I took a few rare days off to revel in a festive Windy City. I never fail to visit the Chicago Art Institute when in town as it is across the street from my usual abode. The works of the great masters, Van Gogh, Degas, Rodin and Monet, always seem to improve with age. The museum store there is perfect for last minute Christmas shopping.

In the Museum of Modern Art wing there was a special exhibition on the 1960?s urban renewal projects in New York, Chicago and Los Angeles. There, I saw photos of the old Victorian buildings in downtown L.A.I remembered as a child, every one now demolished. If this shortsighted city had preserved them, they would be worth a fortune today. That?s why I now live in San Francisco.

At the Museum of Science and Industry I enjoyed this cool interactive experience on the WWII German submarine U-505, which subjected me to an imaginary underwater depth charge attack. A case displaying artifacts found on the ship had a rare pair of 1930?s Zeiss officer?s binoculars. I bought an identical pair years ago at a garage sale for $10 because the case had a broken strap.

I saw Abraham Lincoln?s stovepipe hat at the Chicago History Museum. His suit had my length, but definitely not my waist. He must have been a size 38 extra long. At size 14, we could have shared boots.

One afternoon, I bundled up with every piece of clothing I had and took the Architectural Tour on the Chicago River. A lifelong love of architecture took me to suburban Oak Park to seek out the many masterpieces of Frank Lloyd Wright. I did a drive by in a taxi at Ernest Hemingway?s Home because it was too cold to get out of the car.

I then had a drink in Al Capone?s private booth at The Green Mill, a Depression era speakeasy.

At Navy Pier I picked up a pedestrian fish and chips for lunch. To work off the meal, I rented a City Bike and rode the length of the Chicago waterfront, through Millennium Park all the way to Soldier Field, now nicknamed ?The UFO?.

Of course, I took the dare and stood on the glass floor 108 stories up at the top of the Sears Tower, now known as the Willis Tower.

The service at Gibson?s, one of the world?s greatest steak restaurants, was marvelous as always. They give a detailed description of their many cuts of meat worthy of a medical school. Call my friend there, the maitre d?, Alex Lampugnani, and he?ll set you up with a good table. Just tell him John Thomas sent you.

If you had any doubts about the health of the economy, make a visit to the Water Tower Place shopping Mall on Michigan Avenue. Every store saw massive lines. The parking lots were full, and the streets to get there were jammed. People couldn?t spend money fast enough.

Judging by what I saw, the Q3 GDP growth rate at a blistering 5% is probably a low number. For good measure, I chartered a helicopter for a night tour of Chicago, with a low pass over the spectacular lights at the Lincoln Zoo.

As for the invitation to dive into the freezing waters of Lake Michigan at North Avenue Beach on New Year?s day, this year I decided to give it a pass.

I?ll be back in Chicago for another Global Strategy Luncheon in the spring, and to catch the few parts of the city I missed.

This year I had the pleasure of spending a nostalgic Christmas day in Virginia City, Nevada, now a national historic monument.

The old western town is the home of the famed Comstock load, once the world?s largest silver deposit, discovered in 1859. The ore mined here played a major role in building San Francisco into an important city, and financed the Union?s victory in the Civil War.

It was here that Mark Twain landed his first job as a writer for the town?s first newspaper, the Territorial Enterprise, after failing to find any silver of his own. I have read his complete works (Adventures of Tom Sawyer, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Innocents Abroad, etc.), and owe much to the legendary humorist for my own oddball, ironic sense of humor.

Walking the creaky boardwalk, one admires the many sagging brick, false front buildings, their rusted cast iron shutters nearly falling off their hinges. You almost expect to run into the former riverboat captain around the next corner. Where bordellos, saloons, and gambling dens once flourished, one now finds T-shirt purveyors, gem merchants, candy shops, and period antique stores.

You older folks will remember Virginia City as a central location in Bonanza, the most popular American TV series of the 1960?s. Every week, the determined, but moral, Cartwright family prevailed over a never ending assortment of villains and the formidable challenges of living in an untamed West. Visitors today still flock to the site of their imaginary ranch, the Ponderosa, named for a local pine tree.

The site is still littered with the detritus of the mid 19^th century mining boom, preserved in an eternally arid desert. Wander aimlessly at your own peril. Abandoned mining shafts are everywhere, marked, or not.

I first came here as a kid during the early 1960?s, eagerly collecting old bottles turned blue by a scorching sun, as well as a shoebox full of Indian arrowheads.

I understand that this sort of thing is now illegal. This time, I satisfied myself with throwing a few 100 pound chunks of colorful basalt into the back of the truck to decorate my cactus garden at home.

The highlight of the day was a trip on the Candy Cane Express, operated by the old Virginia and Truckee Railroad. We chugged an hour out into the barren desert mountains, entertained by an assortment of cider bearing elves, singing Christmas carols, and blowing the steam whistle at every opportunity.

The weather was blustery, with intermittent snow flurries. A heard of mustangs, or wild horses, ran along side the tracks, thrilling the children more than Santa Claus, and enthralling the vacationing European photographers.

The federal Bureau of Land Management estimates there are 200,000 of these beasts still roaming free in the western wilderness (down from 2 million 100 years ago). You can adopt one with the payment of a $100 fee, if you promise not to eat it.
On our return, we repaired to the Bucket of Blood saloon for some complimentary sarsaparillas, an ancient predecessor of Coca Cola, and some rollicking country western music from the Comstock Cowboys.

There we toasted a Merry Christmas to all.

Mustangs Taking a Break