March 25, 2018

Chicago, IL


Tonight brings forth the end of a decade's worth of work for me.  I am moving on.  With new beginnings now close by, uncertainty is scaling the hour's walls.   With this end,  come hopes of putting to use all that I've learned the last ten years, as I most certainly will remember to bring along the many friends I've made in this time.  A bittersweet goodbye to a 'home' that gave me the most  amazing moments of good fun and cheer.
Chicago is a tough landscape to cultivate and yet, as a business I proved success through perseverance and passion during some of the most turbulent times and economic doubts.

This place was a large part of who I am.  A warm spot I nurtured and grew to love since 2007.  My solace lies in that I am going away under my own terms, setting my own clock for departure. It's a choice I only recently made since I feel the next decade of my life approaching from just around the bend.

I usually can share my feelings on paper with ease.  I am most always able to write the day away,  traveling inside my head to lasso my words for expression.  But today, with all that I feel, I am lost.

Perhaps I will revisit this page and fill in the blanks.  But first, a plethora of feelings must be sorted out before I can understand the loss of this rather large chunk of my life.
I sit idle awaiting for the start of my last day 'in,' in hope to muster the strength I have been known to posses during some challenging times.

What can one say?
Silence is best when one's head swims in thoughts that drown the heart in emotions.  Today, this can not be explain away.

ADM

March 24th, 2018

Kenwood ~ Hyde Park, Illinois

 I have traveled full circle.  Nearby, a timed train bells rings for the Metro that moves through this South Shore area.  It's the same train that crossed the front of our house back when we first came to Chicago in March of 1969.  With each scheduled passing,  I am reminded of a time and when my fascination with America loomed large.  This began in my early childhood and while still living in the waterfront suburbs of Athens.  As far back as I can remember, I dreamt of someday living in America.  It was a dream I spoke of to all who would listen then.

 March 15, 1969.  I vividly remember our first night here.  Unable to sleep, I stayed up until dawn looking out the front windows with excitement and wonderment.  My father moved us in to a second floor walk-up apartment that was covered in asphalt tiles. I recall it's winding staircase and how it felt like a palace.  All six of us shared a tiny 2 bedroom apartment just two blocks from Rainbow Beach.  The Illinois Central ran it's tracks across the front our new "home" and Windsor Park was the stop we learned to ride from on weekends, taking us "down-town" to shop along the State Street shops. And although everything has changed since then, it all remains the same with the hourly sounds of the train, taking me back to a time when life held promise for me and our family.

 Lake Michigan lies as magnificent as ever.  And although it's water is sweet; unlike the Mediterranean I grew up in, it still mesmerizes.  The waterline holds the horizon and the Chicago skyline; now densely populated with clusters of buildings that reflect the sky's mood.  The low brick and mortar buildings of yesteryear only a sprinkle amongst the new glass towers.
 After the many places I've  come to call "home" over the years, I have returned to where it all started.
I have chosen to live in a pre-war building that daily reminds me of my first days here, and with it's tall ceilings, it gives me the room and space I need to breathe while indoors.

 A week from today will be my birthday, as I am reminded of the paths I've traveled only to return to where it all began; the South Shores of Chicago on the water's edge of Lake Michigan.

ADM

March 20, 2018

In two weeks I move into a new decade of life.  It's not the number that scares me, it's what I bring to it as I write this.
After 10 successful years of having my own business, it can no longer support itself or me.  And what scares me the most is the reality of having to let it all go and walk into the unknown.
How do I make a living from here on?
Someone recently said to me, "you have been in survival mode for so long that you can't see past today...".  Truer words were never said to me.  And yet I am in a state of inertia, fear and doubt.
I suppose I can do almost anything.  I can try everything.  But I have become immobile and lazy at searching out my options.  What is it I'm waiting for?

I mustn't remain at this state long or I will miss the opportunity of getting back on that galloping horse.  And yet, I feel numb and closed minded, sitting back to think instead of doing.

I don't want to admit depression.  I have always been a sunny and positive person, but life has a way of beating one down when things don't work out.  Finances are dwindling and all I can do is hug my big dog and put everything off "until tomorrow."

I have gone dark.  My hope is small and all I want to do is sleep the day away.
I must rekindle the light of my soul  or risk forever living in the darkness of my own creating.

1-20-14...Dog Days of Winter

1-20-14


Dog Days of Winter


My cousin married her young beau today.  He's an 'import'.
She brought him here from overseas, after they were introduced by a mutual friend the 'old fashion' way.  Love knows no modernisms, I suppose.  He doesn't speak the language and rolls his own cigarettes, but has a heart of gold and nurtures an eagerness for work.
It's good to see some things still work; no mater which century they originated in.
Theirs, was a civil ceremony.  Very "Sex and the City" and attended by only a few family members and close friends.   My daughter was one of the few, returning home with countless photos of the happy couple during their nuptials.
Such a wonderful occasion today and I never even left my house.  Not once did I set foot outside.  Albeit, I am still recovering from the flu...but the truth is, I really had no place to go.  Besides, this place is as good as any other to dwell in.  Maybe even better.   It's 'home".  A place I've plumped up with necessary creature comforts for myself.  An easy nest to fall into and fluff my winter feathers.
These are the "dog days of winter".  
The constant humming of the furnace, a reminder of the pending frost.  Everyday, some limitation is imposed on yet another outdoor activity I'd otherwise find pleasure in during the warmer months.
I wonder how much more I'd participate at 'outside' if the internet hadn't existed 'inside'.

It's been since Christmas -when in New York City, that I last dinned out.   Yes, it's been a while and somedays, doing what I do, feels like I'm churning on a rat's wheel, living solely for work and bills.  This winter's inertia has taken away the hope of fun things to come and my agenda stands empty.  Nothing has been added to my "to do list"...not yet.  This is serious kids. I have now crossed over to the 'dark side' of the season.
(It may be why I began this diary.  For expression. A place to run back and read to remember.)

And so another day has folded into night.  Soon, my whining will cease and this feeling of floundering  will have subsided.  I hope...

Maybe the sun will visit my wold tomorrow.  It's been a while.  I may even draw the drapes to let him in.
Tomorrow...it'll come soon enough.

ADM

1-19-15

1-19-15    "While at the shelter..."




It was last June, when Tasha, our 13 year old Rottweiler decided to stop eating.
Old age will make one do that, I suppose.  This was especially hard for me and my family, as she was our 'one and only.  A lady.  A grand dame of a dog everyone loved.

Tasha held on, never having a single incident, quietly lying about, waiting out the summer days.  But by early July, she had become too weak and I felt it was time to "let her go".  She was ready.
We invited a wonderful young veterinarian over  to the house and help us all make the painful transition. And so...on a cloudy day, while comfortably lying on the deck, our Tasha peacefully "crossed over the bridge".
It was all done with dignity and love and I buried her beneath a magnificent magnolia tree worthy of her time in eternity.  Within the hour, it began to rain.  (I imagined the moisture would help her root in the place she loved the most, our sprawling backyard.)

Tonight, a friend mentioned of a Rottweiler up for adoption at the same shelter I found my Tasha thirteen years before.
Dressed in black -to hide all obvious dog hair I expected to wear by night's end, me and my daughter pulled into the parking lot of the Animal Welfare.  The building showed activity with multiple families and people coming and going.  A good sign, I thought.

It had been a long time since I last visited here last.  A new adoption application was required before being allowed to view the dogs.  At times, the barking would crescendo to a loud shrill, echoing through to the waiting area.  I began to feel anxious.

Let me say this.  The efforts, care and time these shelter volunteers devote, is nothing short of God's work.  I was grateful for a gentleman named Roman that walked us through the many rows of cages.  Every bit of space, filled with sad eyes staring back at us.  The look of hope obvious as each pup thought they'd be the "chosen" one of the night.  Simple freedom just at the end of a leash. Right?

I chose none. I couldn't do it.  This proved to be an increasingly overwhelming and painful experience for me.  I couldn't pick just one, because I wanted to take them all.  I wanted to hold them to my chest and put their fears to rest.  I wanted them to feel loved again and help them "belong".


What an ugly world we have weaved my friends.  What have we made of all this "unconditional love and  kindness" that walks our planet?
Designer dogs.  Inbreeding of puppies inside inhumane mills.  Pit Bulls fighting for their lives against one another -while bets are placed on which will bleed first.  Shelters filled to the brim with unwanted life...waiting on cold cement.  I can go on and on, but I won't.

It's late night and I feel poisoned by it all.  I must try and detox, or daybreak may be hard for me  to reach.
I will go back tomorrow.  Because...it's only fair I give each of these caged souls another look, a scratch behind the ear or just a few words of love and compassion.  This time, I'll bring more treats along to share.
I make no promise of adoption, yet.  But what I will do is commit to another visit with an patient heart and a plan of giving another furry angel the chance of life.

What act of kindness did you commit today?

1/18/14...at home.

Sunday, January 18th, 2015                                                                             Palos Park, Illinois


(Some keep a diary for the memories.  Others to sustain some order in their life.  Me? I do it purely for my sanity.)

Battle Day #4 with the season flu.

Being house confined these last few (time-less) days, I am only too grateful to sprawl across my king sized bed, watching a marathon of black and white movies on TCM.  Falling asleep is easy in the peaceful absence of the otherwise frequent TV commercials.

Today however, I awoke with a better understanding of something else.  The necessity to surround oneself with (some) 'opulence' and 'creature comforts'.
After looking at the same walls and decor for countless hours on end, I am happy to admit that my house is indeed beautiful.  And I am suspiciously ecstatic to live in it.  Even during these rather ill circumstances, it has pulled me close and embraced me inside a 'soul' I helped create over our years together.

Everywhere I looked, a piece of (my) history stared back.  A collection from places visited or a times lived.  Or photographs and memories carefully strung together for a display in my own private life.
My home is...my sanctuary.  And the few invited to enter this "private" space, have often expressed awe for it's uniqueness.
My 'personal world' was never designed with the intent to impress, but to rather comfort me (in days like these) and to hold all that I find dear to my heart.  Somedays however,  I do wonder of what I shall do with it all, when this space becomes too large for me to dwell in -as I eventually seek a smaller life.

Though tonight, while I pace the dark mahogany planks, wearing my fuzzy slippers, I can't help but ask myself:  "where else has all  this been before, that now lives here?  Where will it go?".

It's late and the skies have turned black.  I hear the heat kick on more frequent now and I feel the night's chill increase.  I tighten the wool robe around me.  Slowly, I drag through the tiled foyer and cross to the library in the westerly wing.  A wall of river rock hosts a giant fireplace now empty of flames...and  I think to throw some logs in -if only to warm my bones.  Pausing, my body tugs back.  It craves more bed rest.
Maybe tomorrow I'll revisit more house treasures again.  And maybe tomorrow.... I'll behave less feline-like and not rub as much against my memories.  Besides, TCM's black and white movies are best watched from bed.


ADM