The Chicago Chronicles

Late last night, when I couldn't sleep, I decided I needed to write a book--The Chicago Chronicles.

The chapters would be

Saying Goodbye:  how hard it is to leave a familiar place
The Move: including the ultimately unnecessary trip back to NY
All Things New: with a major emphasis on "who is this person?" A question asked by me and to me
Being:  a new person in a new place

I think I'm almost ready to start that final chapter.

Salad Days

Moving to a new city and starting a new job creates opportunities for many new experiences.  Such as:
I saw my first rat in the alley last night.
I love being able to walk to so many things and the relative convenience of public transportation.
I'm getting used to stairs.
I have someone who puts things on my calendar and prints out maps of where I'm supposed to go.

I have no idea how much money I have at home or at work.
People invite me to fancy places for lunch and dinner...then expect me to say intelligent things in return. 
I feel proud every time I'm able to park my car in my teeny tiny garage.
I am learning new things ever day. Exciting but exhausting.

I wonder about the number of words we have to describe a situation which is composed of many different parts or feelings.  In sociology we talk about the United States being more a "salad bowl" than a "melting pot."  I think my life right now feels very salad like--lots of pieces of stuff mixed together, some of them I like, some I don't. 



                                                    

Westward

For 29 years I've lived in the "east," 10 years in Pennsylvania and 19 in central New York.  This week I moved back to the Midwest. Driving on the Ohio turnpike, especially the stretch from Cleveland to Indiana has been a trip I've taken at least a few times a year for  29 years.  I've done it alone, I've done it pregnant, I've done it with a spouse and with kids, and in all combinations. I've usually driven it straight through, sometimes taking two days.  While I'll make the trip again, it will be with Chicago as "home."  I'll gain an hour coming home, instead of losing it. Gas prices will go up instead of down as I get further from home. Speed limits will go down instead of up.  Everything will be backwards.

Coming to central time the 11 o'clock news will be at 10, the apple will drop in Times Square at 11 pm on December 31st, and  staying up to watch the end of Monday night football means I can still get   a good night's sleep.

I can call soda, "pop" again, eat Chicago style pizza, and find good  pork.

Steps in moving

 



I've moved several times in the last three years, changing offices and residences.  I've packed, unpacked, tossed, and salvaged.  Here is how it goes:

Tape up box.  Take stack of books off shelf.  Dump them in the box. Decide you don't need your college calculus text anymore.  Look inside the cover and see your 18 year old self's handwriting. Cry.

Tape up box. Take stack of file folders from drawer. Dump them in the box. Decide you aren't yet ready to part with your graduate school mentor's handwritten notes and comments on your papers. Cry.

Tape up box. Take clothes from drawer. Wonder why you ever bought that green shirt. Toss it in the donate pile. Debate about tossing an old t-shirt from graduate school. Cry.

Tape up box. Take contents of drawer. Dump them in the box. Find old datebooks from 20 years ago.  Flip through the pages and try to remember who these people were that you were meeting and why you met them. Laugh. Then cry.

Tape up box. Take student papers out of file drawer. Fondly remember some great students. Walk to the recycle bin. Dump them in.

Tape up box. Take pictures of your family from dresser top. Remember some of the events. Smile.

Tape up box. Take contents from kitchen cupboard. Find spices purchased 20 years ago for a recipe you made once. Toss them. Toss them all.

Tape up box. Take pictures from walls and desk. Carefully put them in the box. Remember your sons drawings. Cry. The gifts from departed friends. Cry. The thank-yous from students. Cry.

Tape up box. Open drawer filled with pens, staples, paper clips and other miscellany. Close drawer.

Take a walk.

Who is this for?

As I prepare to make my big move back to the Midwest, I'm saying a lot of farewells.  Today I went to my final Hospice meeting. These monthly sessions are part of the ongoing program of caregiver training and education. Today's feature was a video describing the process of dying and how the body and mind might act and react in the final days of life.   

One of the key themes was that many of the things we, as caregivers, want to provide a dying person are for our benefit, not theirs. For instance, as the body slows many people stop eating.  This can be very distressing, especially for us women who see feeding as a primary expression of our caring and nurturing. But, our encouragement to the dying person to eat can cause them physical and emotional stress. Stepping back from what makes US feel better to understanding what makes THEM feel better can be difficult.  The nurse suggested a caregiver find other "loving actions" to replace feeding--like hair brushing, touching, singing, and so on.

All good advice.  It started me thinking about how many things we do for others that are really for our own comfort. I certainly believe we need to care for ourselves, but sometimes that care needs to be balanced against the needs of others.  An awareness of who is benefiting might change our behaviors.  Ideally, our actions serve good purposes both for us and those we care for, providing us both with comfort.  Sometimes, though, our first instincts may not be correct.  A person may long for quiet, while our need is to talk.  Thinking of substituting a different "loving action" that can satisfy us both would be desirable.  Our need to talk may need to wait for a different audience, while we can still show our love and concern through our quiet presence. Stopping to think, "Who is this for?" might often serve us well.

Commencing

I've decided that if I'm ever asked to give a graduation speech, my theme would be shoes.  Today, watching hundreds of young men and women navigate the stage, I was entranced by the shoe variety.   For men, there seem to be two choices; sneakers or dress shoes.  There were a few pairs of sandals, but for the most part men's footwear choices are practical and comfortable.  Among the women, however, the options were quite varied.  There were some sneakers, even a few pairs of flip-flops, but the overwhelming choice was something pointy and tall.  There were platform shoes with platform heels, stilettos and high heeled pumps, boots, and dressy sandals with laces and straps.

So, what would I say about shoes?  Some shoes are comfortable, they fit our feet well and allow us to move quickly and happily.  Some shoes are high, they lift us up, allow us to reach higher.  Some shoes are elegant, they sparkle and shine and give us confidence.  Some shoes are uncomfortable, they pinch and poke and make it hard to walk (but managing in them is an accomplishment!)  Some shoes are pretty, some plain.  Some are bright, some dull.  

It doesn't matter so much which shoes we wear, they will all get us to places we couldn't go otherwise.  They allow us to "commence" on our journey. 

 

Hide and Seek

My friends Clara and Ethan are now 4.5 and 2.5 years old.  Hide and seek is a favorite game.  On Saturday I had a special "no Mommy" date to take Clara to see the Disney movie Bears. When I showed up at the house, their mother met me at the door saying, with a wink, that she had no idea where the kids had gone. I announced that I supposed I would just leave then and turned to go.  All of a sudden, Ethan popped up from behind the sofa, closely followed by a laughing Clara. The joy of the game is in being found.

A few months ago I was in Baltimore, browsing a craft show with my friend Kerry. I admired a pair of earrings. But, I noted, they were big and I couldn't wear "big" earrings. Puzzled she asked "why not?" and I explained that if I wore big earrings everyone look at them (me). With an exasperated sigh she replied, "That's the whole point, Chris!"

Guess it's time to come out from behind the sofa...