"Chicago is an October sort of city, even in spring." - Nelson Algren
Being away from Chicago during the winter has its advantages. It's not bitter cold and windy, and there isn't 12"-16" of snow in the ground, for sure. At the same time, the national perception of Our Fair City is that winter is so unbearably cold that living here is incomprehensible. As a long time proponent of the long view, (as well as a native Great Lakes Midwesterner), I know that this is not the case.
I landed at Midway on Friday, after being stranded at Dulles for several hours while a serious storm front dropped a snow bomb on the upper half of the nation. When you're driving north through the far South Side at 8P in the middle of December thinking "damn it's good to be back", you've been gone for far too long. Anyway, in spite of Daley's attempts to make us surround City Hall with pitchforks and torches by not plowing the streets, in spite of the horribly cold wind blowing off the lake, in spite of the questionable insulation on the windows of our cheap Bridgeport apartment, I've come to enjoy the really cold weather. (Watch and see what I'm saying in March when I've had enough of this nonsense.)
Although the perception that Chicago is filled with stoic types, who will put on a heavy coat and pull on a pair of boots in January to go about their business, the truth is that we all tell ourselves it'll all be better soon, that Spring is right around the corner, that winter only lasts three or four short months, and once the dial hits 50, we'll all be back out there again.
On those bitter cold days, the ones that happen between Early December and late April, when the weather forecast lines up single digits across the board and the sun brings light but not heat, I don't tell myself those lies. I tuck my head down, stuff my hands in my pockets, and walk faster, hoping that I don't have to wait too long for the bus.
Nonetheless, coming home, taking off the cold and wet boots, and settling down in a warm living room leaves me with a strange sense of satisfaction. There's something in this city that makes the people that live and work here tough. Like late season-baseball in Chicago, even when things look bleak and cold and dark, we just dig in and think about the sunrise that is surely around the corner.
Photo by TheeErin
Monday, December 22, 2008
An October Sort of City
Thursday, December 18, 2008
On a Journey
I keep seeing this commercial on TV:
Every time I see this ad, I think back five years, when I first came back to Chicago. Moving to a new city can be tricky; it takes a while to put down roots, to meet people, to feel established. For those first two years, when I was still broke, rootless and didn't have many friends, I would wonder sometimes why I didn't just cash out, pack it up and hit the road.
I've learned over the years that I'm the kind of person that needs to be part of some sort of community to feel connected, grounded and productive. Although the overarching use of this commercial is to sell Louis Vuitton bags, I'm not sure there's a traveler in this ad in the conventional sense. I'm not convinced that the people in this ad are are out of their elements, so much as just journeying through life.
What is it that we remember from our journeys? I'm sure I saw the Statue of Liberty in New York; I remember best the French-Soul Food Vegan dinner with the guy we stayed with. I know I went to Alcatraz in San Fransisco; I remember best getting drunk in a series of dive bars, or visiting the Lusty Lady and talking about the labor movement with the girl in the private peep show. I know we went to Chapultepec Park in Mexico City; I remember best sitting on the steps of a Catholic church at the top of a hill, listening to Indians pray and drinking coffee with Vero.I'll not be traveling with Louis Vuitton any time soon (not my style). But as I get ready to fly back to Chicago for the holidays, I'm left wondering about the journey that I'm on. Not just the life journey, but also the immediate journey, here in DC. Have I really come face to face with myself? Have I made this trip, or has this trip made something of me?
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