Chicago

I made this top ten list when I first went to Chicago in 2009:

10 things I love about Chicago:
I love the lion statues in front of the Art Institute.
I love the Impressionist collection at the Art Institute.
I better make this simple; I love the Art Institute.
I love that there are literally millions of places to eat.
I love the rain.
I love Jane Addams and the Hull House.
I love that there are young revolutionaries in the city ready to make the world a better place.
I love urban gardens.
I love that street musicians play decent jazz on the corners.
I love watching the boats on the Chicago River.

10 things I would hate if I had to live here all the time.
The traffic. No one here drives appropriately. Traffic signals? What are they?
The sirens screaming all over the city at all times of day and night.
The train clacking by in the middle of the night. Go to bed people.
The hungry people on the corners.
The people in the park without socks or shoes. What do they do in the winter?
The wealth in a city of great economic disparity.
Dunkin donuts.-I think there are more here than in Colorado all put together.
The expense of everything–no wonder so many people are begging for a dime.
No parking–but wait a minute if I lived here I wouldn’t drive. It’s suicide.
The permanent smell of exhaust and trash.

My first trip to Chicago was nine years ago.  I went on a grant funded program for teachers to learn about American history.  It was an amazing experience because fifty or so teachers from Colorado travelled all over the Windy City to see where history happened–the site of the meat packing industry, the Pullman factory, the Haymarket Square, Union Station.  We ate food in a Lithuanian neighborhood, were served farm to table food at the historic Hull house, and. of course, sampled famous deep dish pizza.  Landmarks such as Marc Chagall’s mural, Picassso’s sculpture, and the site of the two world’s fairs were explored.  Plus we did fun things like attend a comedy show at Second City, and checked out Wrigley field.  The Cubbies weren’t doing so hot then and people were out of the park a little upset.  Okay, a lot upset.  And on my own, with a newly pregnant colleague in tow, we hiked five miles in the hot, humid air to see where the television show ER was filmed.  I saw and did more that week in Chicago than probably people who have lived there a lifetime.  In addition, to all that my birthmother lives here.  So for a small town girl, Chicago became my city.

This summer has been my summer to try to learn to relax and heal, so what better than a weekend in my favorite city with my amazing book club.  And it was pretty great–Hamilton, a blues concert, the Blue Man group, a book fair, and amazing food.  A friend of mine from high school was in town and stayed over an extra day to see me and I did get to see my birthmother, Kathy  She took me to the Lincoln Park Zoo which is one of the few  Chicago attractions that I hadn’t been to yet. The male lion was standing up on boulders looking magnificent; he took my breath away.  I can imagine if I lived close by, I’d try to see that lion as much as possible.  Knowing me, I’d pretty soon write a story about his day.  I’d start to think of him as my lion.  Charlie would get jealous, so it’s probably good I don’t have a lion.  All kidding aside, I love spending time with Kathy.  She grounds me.

The best part of the trip was spending time with the women in my bookclub.  A lot of my people in my life have done so many things for me since losing my parents, but the women in my book club have been my anchors.  I showed up on Stephanie’s door step one day soon after the funeral in hysterical tears.  She listened and got me to take a deep breath in her calm, peaceful way.  Sally has driven me to the breast cancer doctor, to my biopsies, to my ultrasounds, to radiation.  She’s brought over cherries and organized cleaning parties and so much more.  Catherine and her husband, Pat, literally saved Shayne’s life.  They gave him work and a purpose and have the ability to see beyond his illness and recognize his gifts and potential.  Linda and Susan are among my favorite colleagues and brighten my days with their empathy and laughter.  And I’ll never forget, how Patricia came to to the hospital when I had the infection and sat with me until I was released.  In these past years, there is nothing these women haven’t done for me.  We may have started out as a group to talk about books, but somehow that has evolved into sharing our lives.

When mom and dad were killed, we were reading Tracks.  Tracks is a memoir of a woman who trekked across Australia with a camel and sometimes a cameraman.  She had amazing things happen on her journey–like waking up with a sleeping bag full of poisonous snakes curling around her for warmth.  She survived to tell the tales.  I couldn’t read after mom and dad died.  Shayne was at his worst at that point, on and off the streets.  And I was trying to make sense out of all the insurance documents and the steps I needed to take to sort out my parents affairs, but I didn’t miss book club.  My friends had a gift for me.  It was a coffee table book of Tracks.  A survival story in photographs.  I have that book on display in my living room.  Everyday I walk by and remind myself, that surviving is all about facing the day with purpose.  I may not have chosen the journey, but I get to choose how to travel.  And I have never been alone.