So, what does that mean? Well, for us Chicagoans, it means it's time to haul out the winter clothes we so anxiously put away last May. When I was a kid, my mother would stock away our seasonal clothes in preparation for the new season coming up. For the first 8 years of my life, I had to share a bed with my older sister since we didn't have our own bedroom. (modest beginnings people, tres modest) Our clothes were neatly organized in a dresser located in my parents bedroom. With such little space, my mother would pack away our seasonal clothing into decorative tin cans that I believe originally held popcorn or something or other.
Well, 14 years later (or perhaps a few more, give or take) I still pack away my seasonal clothes and now I must unpack them because one thing October represents here in the W.C. is the "just around the corner" freezing cold weather that you never get used to no matter how long you live in the Midwest. I'm born & raised in this city and it never fails to surprise me how every year, it gets hella cold & every year we say the same thing as if it hasn't happened for the last hundred or so winter's in Chicago "wooo-weee it's cold out there!". We walk the downtown streets shoulders raised to our ears, hands hovered over mouth furiously blowing out white icy air, shuddering in disbelief that it could actually be "this" damn cold outside.
But that's part of what makes Chicago the great city it is, even with the freezing winters, high crime rate, cab drivers from hell & all the other wonders that make one think "relocate - sure, why not!" , I love this city - I grew up here and while California has it's warm weather, regular celeb spottings and is pretty much the pulse of all things "entertainment" and New York has it's theater district, Times Square, all things Fashion, chic magazine houses and is the place to pay your dues before going to Cali and blowin up, I'll take Chicago because this city has character, history, and most importantly, all things me!
From Grant Hospital (where I was born) to the house on Lorel where I spent the early, early years of my existance (all I remember is the cold basement floor & the long winding staircase with the black shiny banister) to sitting in my grandmother's kitchen on Kenmore. Before I was old enough to attend school, we'd spend our days people watching from her window, taking trips to the deli for corn beef on rye, a pack of grape bubble gum & big old fashioned buttery soft glazed donuts fresh from the oven. I loved the smell of Dove East Cleaners and the local butcher shop. Years later, I'd enjoyed handfuls of candy from the train station on my way to Swift every morning.
From there, we moved to the large building on Wolcott Ave, where every saturday morning, I'd grab my cabbage patch kid & walk with my mother to the Jewel on Lincoln, hoping we'd stop at Grocerland on the way home. There, I'd beg for the latest Barbie or Bop magazine. It was in this neighborhood, that I watched a girl get "jumped" into a gang, where I saw lots of crazy activity and heard the frightening sounds of domestic violence going on in the apartment above ours. The next morning, the same couple who caused me to cover my ears in fear, walked out the building and through the courtyard as if love had found them. He was unharmed. She had a cast on her arm. Frightening. It was here that I became a latchkey kid and discovered "crazy man". That neighborhood was brimming with chaos but I really liked the size and style of that apartment. It was huge with an old fashioned closet in the bedroom I shared with big sis. Finally, my childhood started (or so it felt) and ended with the two-flat on Ashland Ave. I was 9 when we moved in and 21 when I moved out. All the years in between were filled with a lot of laughter, silliness, fights, sadness, love, togetherness, life, death and all things that make a family whole.
So with all that I've experienced in this great city, I could never deny it! Chicago is my family's history, no matter where we all ended up, the details will forever be etched in the granite of this town known as the "City of the Big Shoulders" .... if you don't know..... now you know!
Well, 14 years later (or perhaps a few more, give or take) I still pack away my seasonal clothes and now I must unpack them because one thing October represents here in the W.C. is the "just around the corner" freezing cold weather that you never get used to no matter how long you live in the Midwest. I'm born & raised in this city and it never fails to surprise me how every year, it gets hella cold & every year we say the same thing as if it hasn't happened for the last hundred or so winter's in Chicago "wooo-weee it's cold out there!". We walk the downtown streets shoulders raised to our ears, hands hovered over mouth furiously blowing out white icy air, shuddering in disbelief that it could actually be "this" damn cold outside.
But that's part of what makes Chicago the great city it is, even with the freezing winters, high crime rate, cab drivers from hell & all the other wonders that make one think "relocate - sure, why not!" , I love this city - I grew up here and while California has it's warm weather, regular celeb spottings and is pretty much the pulse of all things "entertainment" and New York has it's theater district, Times Square, all things Fashion, chic magazine houses and is the place to pay your dues before going to Cali and blowin up, I'll take Chicago because this city has character, history, and most importantly, all things me!
From Grant Hospital (where I was born) to the house on Lorel where I spent the early, early years of my existance (all I remember is the cold basement floor & the long winding staircase with the black shiny banister) to sitting in my grandmother's kitchen on Kenmore. Before I was old enough to attend school, we'd spend our days people watching from her window, taking trips to the deli for corn beef on rye, a pack of grape bubble gum & big old fashioned buttery soft glazed donuts fresh from the oven. I loved the smell of Dove East Cleaners and the local butcher shop. Years later, I'd enjoyed handfuls of candy from the train station on my way to Swift every morning.
From there, we moved to the large building on Wolcott Ave, where every saturday morning, I'd grab my cabbage patch kid & walk with my mother to the Jewel on Lincoln, hoping we'd stop at Grocerland on the way home. There, I'd beg for the latest Barbie or Bop magazine. It was in this neighborhood, that I watched a girl get "jumped" into a gang, where I saw lots of crazy activity and heard the frightening sounds of domestic violence going on in the apartment above ours. The next morning, the same couple who caused me to cover my ears in fear, walked out the building and through the courtyard as if love had found them. He was unharmed. She had a cast on her arm. Frightening. It was here that I became a latchkey kid and discovered "crazy man". That neighborhood was brimming with chaos but I really liked the size and style of that apartment. It was huge with an old fashioned closet in the bedroom I shared with big sis. Finally, my childhood started (or so it felt) and ended with the two-flat on Ashland Ave. I was 9 when we moved in and 21 when I moved out. All the years in between were filled with a lot of laughter, silliness, fights, sadness, love, togetherness, life, death and all things that make a family whole.
So with all that I've experienced in this great city, I could never deny it! Chicago is my family's history, no matter where we all ended up, the details will forever be etched in the granite of this town known as the "City of the Big Shoulders" .... if you don't know..... now you know!
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