Tag Archives: Chicago

18 March 2008: Miscellany

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moonbeam-clock

This morning I dreamed, but I don’t remember the interesting bits. As usual, as it progressed I needed to find a bathroom, and the only ones available were dirty, wet, or door-less.

What was extraordinary is that I slept through the night for the first time in months, perhaps years, and the light flashing from my Moonbeam alarm clock didn’t wake me. Five minutes later, the backup bell alarm did, but just enough for me to turn it off and make a quick bathroom trip (there’s a reason this theme recurs in my morning dreams).

I fell asleep again until 7 a.m., when I was struck by two things: I felt well rested, and I felt good — I didn’t feel any pain in my muscles, joints, or nerves. I have had a constant level of mild pain (with spikes of a more severe kind) for so long that I’d forgotten what it’s like not to ache.

Of course, the pain came back, but for a while it was lovely to feel young again.

On the morning bus I saw a young man playing with a mobile phone or PDA. I couldn’t help noticing how slack-jawed his face went while he was working with it; I wonder if he had any idea how silly he looked with his mouth set to catch enormous flies.

In the evening, there’s a couple, perhaps in their late 50s, who catch the same bus I do when I’m not headed toward State Street for Argo Tea, Puppet Bike, or HWLC. If there are seats left, they are usually singles, so the couple rarely gets to sit together. The man reads The Wall Street Journal, while the woman, in a different part of the bus, looks straight ahead (which is not something I could do, day after day).

Today when I looked up from reading, I saw the man in the first row of forward-facing seats — next to an empty seat. His wife was sitting two rows behind him, next to a woman she apparently didn’t know; they didn’t speak, so it wasn’t as though she had chosen to sit and chat with a friend.

When they got off the bus, another observer would have thought they were strangers for all the attention they gave one another. They didn’t even walk together; he went ahead.

To me, as a single woman, their behavior seemed odd. I know being married doesn’t mean being joined at the hip 24/7, but on a bus full of strangers why wouldn’t you sit with the one person you know? I wondered if they had had an argument. If so, I would marvel that, at this stage of life, not speaking would be the behavior of choice. It seems juvenile to me, like something we did at 15, not 55.

I don’t think this is how they act normally, because I have seen them talking at the bus stop.

Somewhere there’s a story, although it may not be as interesting as I would like to believe.

As the song says, “People are strange.” Someday that will finally sink in.

Holiday party and a winter’s day

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There’s something about spending a single night away from home that makes me feel more disoriented than returning after a week-long trip. J. and I went to the last Hyatt party Friday night, and it was Monday before my sense of strangeness started to dissipate.

On Friday at about 6 p.m., I met J. at Moonstruck, one of my favorite places downtown. We started the evening with watching the dancing, which become less coordinated and more creative as the night wore on. As I stood on the second level, I couldn’t help thinking of ballroom dancing in 1930s movies and how much has changed in what is a relatively short period of time. For a moment, I could imagine the sweep of tuxedos and gowns.

Midnight coffee at Hyatt party

When most attendees were at their happiest and most uninhibited, Exhibit A shows me nursing a midnight coffee — proof that I am old or dull or both. For the first time at this event, I could not be persuaded to dance, although I am not sure what held me back.

Geese off Kennedy Expressway

On Saturday, after substituting breakfast for a swim in the pool that no longer existed, J. and I headed to the Rosemont elevated stop, where we saw a flock of perhaps 80 Canada geese divided into four parts nibbling on the small islands of grass along the Kennedy Expressway. It struck me as an odd sight, a glimpse of nature adapting to the unnatural and unpleasant speed and noise of the expressway.

The weather was perfect for spending an hour and a half at the outdoor Christkindlmarket — a little below freezing, not too cold, no wind, and with a steady flurry of snow coating everything. While J. shopped, I found myself fascinated by the snow-covered model train as it made its monotonous rounds. A few boys watched the train for a bit, then commented in a deprecatory tone of voice to prove that they were too old for such toys. I envision them in 20–25 years, telling their children about the model train at the Christkindlmarket, even if it is by then more of a feeling than a memory.

Peter and Heloise

Near the train tracks we came upon a snow-covered bench occupied by tiny snow people, made of regular-sized snowballs with evergreen twigs for arms. I named them Peter and Héloise, as doomed lovers. They were such a charming couple that almost everyone who spotted them did a double take, then snapped a photo of them. One woman even looked at us strangely as though we were the responsible parties. I wish I were that imaginative! It was with great reluctance that I left Peter and Héloise behind.

Waiting for bus
Home with Hodge

When all I could feel of my hands was pain, I dragged J. away on the bus and home with me, where a well-fed Hodge greeted us. I lit candles, plied J. with Holiday Dream tea and a Homemade pizza and cookie, and put on the 1938 version of A Christmas Carol with Reginald Owen so J. could sleep through it. Fortunately, the pizza and cookie revived him in time for a second showing.

In the meantime, the weather had become truly frightful. At 8 p.m., when we went downstairs to wait for the cab that never arrived, the wind was whipping The Flamingo’s awning furiously, and snow was coming down heavily and even less realistically than in a Hollywood movie. Since J. had to wait another two hours for the next train, I plied him with fair trade hot cocoa while we watched a Judy Garland, Dean Martin, and Frank Sinatra TV concert. I told J. that times have changed; today, Judy Garland couldn’t get away with a bare stage, a simple dress, and pumps. She would have to have a full band onstage, scantily clad chorus girls and dancers, a light show, and fireworks. During this performance, though, the stage, lights, and outfit didn’t matter. All attention was on that tragic face and that remarkable voice. You don’t need to distract your audience when you have talent.

J. finally arrived at the train station, after a 20-mph taxi ride in blizzard-like conditions. I couldn’t see Lake Shore Drive from my bedroom window. When I called him at 2 a.m. to see if he’d gotten home in one piece, the weather was still howling and blowing. Yet by 8 a.m. Sunday, it was sunny, clear, and calm, with the new coating of snow the only evidence of the previous long winter’s night.

Co-op Markets

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Letter to the editor to the Hyde Park Herald on November 8, about Co-op Markets:

Although it shouldn’t have been a surprise, I read with dismay of the Co-op’s bleak alternatives. While it’s amazing when anything in this world lasts as long as 75 years, the Co-op’s financial failure is distressing because it seems to have come about because of one bad decision — to expand and to lock into a long-term lease. In other words, it was utterly unnecessary. I’ve also been disappointed that someone would run for a board position, win it, and then figure out that they didn’t have enough time for it.

I’ve followed the disparaging comments made by a vocal (or verbal) few in the Herald, including those written by people willing to call their neighbors “stupid” for shopping at the Co-op. Call me “stupid” all you like; I prefer the Co-op to any chain store that I have been in. If my preferences make me “stupid,” so be it.

The comments and attitudes are unfortunate because the Co-op provides an alternative to the abundant chains, which not everyone loves. As an example, a friend in Ann Arbor, her daughter, and I went to Whole Foods to pick up a special order. She and her teenage daughter found the experience so miserable, and similar experiences at other chains likewise, that they agreed to find a way to do as much of their shopping at their local co-operative — a tiny store, more the size of a convenience store — so they could avoid the chain stores like Whole Foods and Kroger altogether.

Then there’s my friend who lives in the south suburbs, within walking distance of Jewel and driving distance of numerous stores. He loves the Co-op and wants to stop there nearly every time he is in Hyde Park. If we’re pressed for time, I have to drag him out.

Then there are the people I overheard one day, who apparently were in the area for wedding. Some were hanging around Bonjour when they were joined by a couple who told them, “There’s a grocery store back there. It’s really good, a little like Whole Foods but different. You should see it.”

It’s also disturbing how eager the university is to get rid of the Co-op and to bring in a chain. The university clearly has a poor understanding of why college towns like Ann Arbor are so charming and popular with parents and students alike — the small boutiques, the unique stores, and the standalone cafes like Cafe Verde and Sweetwater Cafe are all part of the effect. Even with its diverse student body, the university seems to want to suburbanize Hyde Park, with Borders, Starbucks, Hollywood, and other suburban comforts on every corner. Now they want a chain grocery store, because apparently a local co-operative just isn’t mass market enough.

Under normal circumstances, I’m not so sure the Co-op’s time would have come. There have been tremendous improvements in the past several years, and now it seems it’s all for nothing for those of us who are “stupid” enough to keep up our memberships and to prefer shopping there and for the employees, too.

All good things must come to an end, but such an end affecting so many people, including the “stupid” like me — it’s unfortunate and sad, moreso because it was avoidable.