Just realized that its been over 2 months since my initial post. I blame holidays, cold weather, snuggy blankets and Netflix as escapes from dealing with a new city and a new job.
I'm not going to say much about where I work or what I do; y'all know that talking about your job (unless that IS your job) isn't a terribly smart thing. I work in education as support staff. I love what I currently do, my new school district and my boss. That part of my life is great, although its a mental struggle to grasp all the new things.
Day to day living, however, some days are better than others.
We knew that any large city has crime and bad people and shootings. We knew that Chicago has had unprecedented rates of shootings. We did not know that there would be not just one, but TWO shootings right below our bedroom window.
We moved in on a Thursday and that following Friday and Saturday are shrouded in a haze of extreme fatigue and trying to find some item we knew we packed. Saturday night, we tumbled into bed for some well deserved sleep and plans to relax and enjoy the next day.
About midnight, I am jolted awake by three loud blasts: BAM BAM BAM! I am instantly awake and shaking D awake. Then, FOUR more: BAM BAM BAM BAM! I knew they were shots but was so tired that I really wanted to think it was someone banging on the door. My first marriage was to an outdoorsman, so I'm no stranger to guns and what they sound like. D is a former Marine and is no stranger to gunfire.
Dazed, he bravely starts toward the door when we hear more shots. Shaking off exhaustion and sleep, we realize that the shots are coming from 3 floors down in the alley. Still trying to comprehend what we should do (hide in the bathtub? return fire?), we see 2 CPD cars in the alley and a third on our street. D decides that now is a great time for a cigarette and steps out on the porch, not so much for a smoke, but to be nosy. Honestly, my curiosity is spiraling out of control, but I don't want to put on pants. CPD checks out the alley, peeks in on the bar and keeps on patrolling. It's quite some time before either of us can get back to sleep.
Later, talking with a cop friend that lives nearby, we find out that yes, indeed, there was a little shoot out and encouraged to call 911 if we ever hear gunfire again.
About 6 weeks later, there is ANOTHER shooting again. Right under our bedroom window. Somehow we missed out on this one since we had an extremely loud dehumidifier running in our bedroom. This time, someone was shot and subsequently died. Right. In. Our. Alley.
I know gang activity is pretty much everywhere. In our former town, there were gangs, an occasional shooting and more frequently, the quarterly drug bust in the house down the street. But it was quite sobering to know that what is a news story for many people is now a reality. I don't know how people who live in neighborhoods with much more frequent violence deal with it. You feel differently about gangs and guns when you can watch it unfold from your bedroom window.
So, welcome to Chicago.
Follow up: because D and I are kinda "law and order" sorts (follow the rules/do the right thing) and we are getting to that stage of maturation, we attended our local CPD district meeting. Yes, we are that dorky.
I am SO super glad we did! The officers that were there didn't shy away from hard, direct questions from angry-ish, scared residents. They were as forthcoming as they could be and not give up any sensitive information. D just had to raise his hand to add some comments and thought is was worth noting that we had just lived here 90 days and had been witness to two shootings. That brought down the house! Huge laughs and several people assuring us that it really isn't that bad.
We enjoyed a little bit of celebrity and met several of our neighbors that aren't in our building. The CPD officers also hung around to chat with residents, which I thought was neat. We reassured our new neighbors that we wouldn't be scared off and were planning to stay.
Welcome to Chicago!
Friday, February 24, 2017
Friday, December 16, 2016
Hello There
What happens when you finally achieve your dream of moving to the big city? Be careful what you wish for; you just might get it and it often won't be how you thought it would be.
All my life, I have wanted to live in a big city high rise. I blame the TV shows of my childhood; life in a large city looked so grand and glamorous and fun! The swinging mod pads, kids that took buses everywhere and without grownups; that was the kind of life I wanted. It only got worse as I got older but somehow could never shake my small town roots. When I was between marriages, I preferred guys that either lived in large cities or weren't opposed to moving.
Luckily for me (and the rest of the world), I married a fantastic guy who shared this fantasy of living not only in a big city, but CHICAGO. Both of us have always been drawn to this dynamic place but were frustrated that it just didn't seem like it was ever going to work out. We visited often and tried to plot just HOW to make it happen.
And then, suddenly, it did.
We had only two weeks to tie up loose ends, pack an immense amount of crap and find a new apartment: our dream was coming true!
Except, um, maybe not.
Moving sucks. Really sucks. But now that we are out of the "just moved" stage, the realities of true urban life vs. the small city faux urban life are hitting us. Wheel tax and stickers, where you CAN park, public transit etiquette, rush hour traffic, rules of the alley, all have been experiences that while we "knew" about them, the reality is we just had no clue.
On our honeymoon (where else? Chicago!), we laughed ourselves silly when we successfully navigated getting on a bus and riding 9 blocks in a straight line. We jokingly named ourselves "Mr and Mrs Bumpkin" because it was quite obvious that we had not been on a city bus before, let alone the BIG CITY or cars or electricity.....yeah, we were those folks and we got some pretty hateful glares from the regulars who are over the thrill of a bus.
This is intended to be a chronicle of us "bumpkin-ing" around as we figure out the transition between small town and the City of Chicago. If you also dream about escaping your small town cesspool for the bright lights, don't give up but go ahead and laugh at our naivety. Born and raised in the urban jungle folks, you can laugh, but cut us some slack. You make it look easy; that why people like me want to come to your city. The only ones that can't make fun of us are the transplants that have acclimated: you were once like us, quit laughing and help us out, for the love of God!
All my life, I have wanted to live in a big city high rise. I blame the TV shows of my childhood; life in a large city looked so grand and glamorous and fun! The swinging mod pads, kids that took buses everywhere and without grownups; that was the kind of life I wanted. It only got worse as I got older but somehow could never shake my small town roots. When I was between marriages, I preferred guys that either lived in large cities or weren't opposed to moving.
Luckily for me (and the rest of the world), I married a fantastic guy who shared this fantasy of living not only in a big city, but CHICAGO. Both of us have always been drawn to this dynamic place but were frustrated that it just didn't seem like it was ever going to work out. We visited often and tried to plot just HOW to make it happen.
And then, suddenly, it did.
We had only two weeks to tie up loose ends, pack an immense amount of crap and find a new apartment: our dream was coming true!
Except, um, maybe not.
Moving sucks. Really sucks. But now that we are out of the "just moved" stage, the realities of true urban life vs. the small city faux urban life are hitting us. Wheel tax and stickers, where you CAN park, public transit etiquette, rush hour traffic, rules of the alley, all have been experiences that while we "knew" about them, the reality is we just had no clue.
On our honeymoon (where else? Chicago!), we laughed ourselves silly when we successfully navigated getting on a bus and riding 9 blocks in a straight line. We jokingly named ourselves "Mr and Mrs Bumpkin" because it was quite obvious that we had not been on a city bus before, let alone the BIG CITY or cars or electricity.....yeah, we were those folks and we got some pretty hateful glares from the regulars who are over the thrill of a bus.
This is intended to be a chronicle of us "bumpkin-ing" around as we figure out the transition between small town and the City of Chicago. If you also dream about escaping your small town cesspool for the bright lights, don't give up but go ahead and laugh at our naivety. Born and raised in the urban jungle folks, you can laugh, but cut us some slack. You make it look easy; that why people like me want to come to your city. The only ones that can't make fun of us are the transplants that have acclimated: you were once like us, quit laughing and help us out, for the love of God!
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