Roots

Scott is moving today, just around the block from his current place, but moving nonetheless. This means that he spent most of the holiday weekend packing, and I spent most of my holiday helping him. Moving is the opportunity to get rid of all the accumulated crap that has managed to sneak its way into your life, so in a way, it's very therapeutic. Except that I've done it 9 times in the past 10 years. This has the effect of not being therapeutic, and just being laborious and time-consuming. Fortunately, I am not moving this year, so my reward is to help Scott move (although he has been very nice about not making me help too much!). I guess it's the price we pay for being young, urban, transient types. I find myself, as I get older, wanting to settle into a space. I wouldn't mind being in a space on my own, so it's not a question of what my relationship status is at the time, but it's a matter of wanting to put down roots. We found out on Sunday that some very good friends of ours are planning to move to LA later this year. This news is incredibly sad and frustrating, because we are starting to put down roots in Chicago, and we will miss them terribly. But I guess that in a way it is inevitable. This is the time to move and do what needs to be done if you want to be elsewhere. But I've found myself very attached to Chicago. I never thought that I would end up living here, being that I grew up in the suburbs of this city, I always thought that I'd head west. The great thing is that I still have that option. But honestly, Chicago is a great, great city, and there's really no reason for me to leave. You will undoubtedly hear me extol the virtues of the city many, many times in this blog, but today, here's what I have to say...

I love Chicago for so many things. It's beautiful, hard working, and full of Midwesterners, which are a great deal friendlier than their East or West coast counterparts. There was an interesting article in the most recent Chicago magazine, an interview with Vince Vaughn about why he is buying yet another house in Chicago and not moving to LA (and maybe bringing Jennifer Aniston with him). He said that Chicago is very protective of its own, and he never gets bothered by paparazzi here. He is very respectful of the city, and the city, in turn, is respectful back. He said quite a lot of other great things about Chicago, as well, and I found myself reflecting on why I am so proud of living here, in this community of truly great art, music, theater, and food, where the free city and neighborhood festivals take over the city in the summer and the people smile at each other on the sidewalk, even in a big city. In a place where the snow makes the frozen lake into a picturesque sunrise on winter mornings. In a place where every Tuesday in the summer, you can watch a classic movie on a monstrous screen with 50,000 other people while the sun sets and the skyline around you twinkles with large, friendly buildings protecting you from the reality of the outside world. In a place where you can hear blues and jazz on every street corner, and hear all-time great musicians in the parks around the city, and watch the most talented drummers I know beating on plastic buckets in front of the museums. I live in a city that makes me smile every time I drive into or out of it, a city that puts worded messages on its skyscrapers using the lights inside the offices, a city whose building tops turn colors depending on the month and the holiday, as they are lit up by their brilliant colored lamps (red, white and blue for memorial day this weekend, pink in October for breast cancer awareness month). I wandered down to the lake yesterday and read while Scott ran, and listened to the sound of the waves crashing on the breakers. I watched thousands of people running, walking, biking, and a particularly cute little girl give me an impish grin as I walked by. I smelled the smoke of charcoal grills as people started their family celebrations early, at 9:00 in the morning, along the lake. Scott and I took a break from packing and walked to dinner last night, to an ale house up the street. In the open air of a busy city, it's an amazing gift to be walking amidst the hum of life. I love my church, I love my friends, I love my apartment, and I love living in Chicago. I wish those who choose to leave it and search for their life's dreams well. But I am content right where I am. I wish I could hold on to this place and this time for a long time. In the meantime, I am home. Sweet home Chicago.