Chicago will forever remind me of you. I can still see your eyes lighting up like a child as the city backdrop seemed to embrace you when you proclaimed, "Welcome to my city!" (with an emphasis on the my!)
America was not your birthplace and, truth be told, Chicago could more accurately be deemed my city considering I grew up only a short drive from the place; nonetheless I was totally convinced. As you walked your awkward walk down the sidewalks, leading the way to all your favorite spots and then made yourself at home ordering expensive bottles of white wine at upscale restaurants for lunch, it felt to me as if this truly was a city that belonged only to you.
We followed your lead through the sculpture park by the pier and sat with coffees, people and dog watching by the lake with the locals. In the evenings, we enjoyed Gallo al Vino on the Italian side of town and the three of us were comrades and partners in crime. In Chicago and out, we had a surrogate family feeling toward each other. We were the best of friends.
It's been years since an icy road in a far away place took you away from your wife and friends. Today I was thinking of Chicago which always makes me think of you. I know I am not the only one.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Friday, October 7, 2011
Freedom's Just Another Word
In the light of the day the attraction lost more and more of its luster as they grew further apart. In hindsight, it should have been apparent that the feeling was mutual but it had been a long week.
The air began to grow heavy as they walked. Heavy in the way that only takes place in the deep south in late summer when a storm is on its way. They walked aimlessly through the Quarter peering in the windows of voodoo shops and gazing at knick-knack stands. As the thunder began, the sky simultaneously opened up.
The nearest place for cover was a tiny bar with a battered sign above the door that read The Huddle Inn. They burst inside not dry enough to say they just missed the storm. The tiny room (estimated capacity 20 or less) was filled with locals that stared at the two young, wet outsiders.
A seat at the bar seemed the obvious place to gravitate. He ordered two beers that neither of them were sure they could stomach. It had, after all, been a long week. Surprisingly, or maybe not, the cold draft beer was just what they needed to clear the air. As they ordered their second round, the connection between them returned. Maybe it was because they had an us-against-them feeling in the tiny bar or maybe the incredible forces of nature outside drew them closer to each other the way storms can do or maybe it was the alcohol taking hold of their delusions; but for any reason or perhaps all, the inexplicable undercurrent that kept them coming back ran through their veins once again.
She walked away from him without saying where she was going. He watched always a little on edge, wondering what she might do next. She moved toward a small jukebox, trying to look unaffected by the eyes upon her but he knew better. As she stood leaning over the jukebox, he admired her long legs and a felt a twinge of jealousy as her skirt hiked up showing all the regulars a hint of what was still his but not for long. Every eye was definitely now on her; surely that was her goal.
As soon as the quarter fell in, Janice's voice came out like a vibration to his soul. She walked back to him never losing his gaze. They danced in the center of the room, slow and off beat; two young, awkward, rain-soaked bodies swaying to the sounds of Me and Bobby McGee. Time seemed to stand still. After the rain let up, they headed to the airport to catch their flight.
Things were never the same after that trip. New Orleans is a powerful place; it can often change everything. Shortly after returning home she broke off their relationship for vague reasons that became clear months later. But that day after that week filled with experiences that the two of them will surely never forget, time stood still and freedom did not seem to matter.
The air began to grow heavy as they walked. Heavy in the way that only takes place in the deep south in late summer when a storm is on its way. They walked aimlessly through the Quarter peering in the windows of voodoo shops and gazing at knick-knack stands. As the thunder began, the sky simultaneously opened up.
The nearest place for cover was a tiny bar with a battered sign above the door that read The Huddle Inn. They burst inside not dry enough to say they just missed the storm. The tiny room (estimated capacity 20 or less) was filled with locals that stared at the two young, wet outsiders.
A seat at the bar seemed the obvious place to gravitate. He ordered two beers that neither of them were sure they could stomach. It had, after all, been a long week. Surprisingly, or maybe not, the cold draft beer was just what they needed to clear the air. As they ordered their second round, the connection between them returned. Maybe it was because they had an us-against-them feeling in the tiny bar or maybe the incredible forces of nature outside drew them closer to each other the way storms can do or maybe it was the alcohol taking hold of their delusions; but for any reason or perhaps all, the inexplicable undercurrent that kept them coming back ran through their veins once again.
She walked away from him without saying where she was going. He watched always a little on edge, wondering what she might do next. She moved toward a small jukebox, trying to look unaffected by the eyes upon her but he knew better. As she stood leaning over the jukebox, he admired her long legs and a felt a twinge of jealousy as her skirt hiked up showing all the regulars a hint of what was still his but not for long. Every eye was definitely now on her; surely that was her goal.
As soon as the quarter fell in, Janice's voice came out like a vibration to his soul. She walked back to him never losing his gaze. They danced in the center of the room, slow and off beat; two young, awkward, rain-soaked bodies swaying to the sounds of Me and Bobby McGee. Time seemed to stand still. After the rain let up, they headed to the airport to catch their flight.
Things were never the same after that trip. New Orleans is a powerful place; it can often change everything. Shortly after returning home she broke off their relationship for vague reasons that became clear months later. But that day after that week filled with experiences that the two of them will surely never forget, time stood still and freedom did not seem to matter.
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