The UW Chronicles: Volume XVIII: Chicago

6:47 pm Chicago time

I feel very comfortable in the anonymity that cities provide. In cities the feeling of both isolation and connectedness is so palpable. I felt connected and deeply affected by the people around me today, but also disturbed by the sudden disintegration of those connections human beings forge as we wait across from one another at a stoplight or meet each others’ eyes through café windows or on the bus. And yet, as much as we desire that connection or the continuation of that connection, we are afraid of what it may bring. We desire the bond but are too comfortable with seclusion. But perhaps I am projecting everything that I feel about myself onto the entire human race. Quite overconfident of me, don’t you think? I admit that I relish the adrenaline rush urban anonymity provides. You can fall flat on your face on the sidewalk, sip a Starbucks latte after swearing that you’d never support that horrid invasive species of a company, act like a tourist and snap pictures of the architecture and chuckle and talk to yourself as you walk along the street. Chances are you will never meet any of those people that saw you do any of those ridiculous things ever again. What freedom!

Speaking of that, I have had quite an adventure today…I am utterly exhausted. Where to begin? I am in Chicago, Illinois staying with my mom’s cousin, Kathleen. Since the wee age of four or five when I was introduced into the Cavagnaro-Monohan family, I have considered Kathleen to be a very cool aunt (though I have A LOT of other very cool aunts/family members), if the definition of a “cool” aunt means living/being the landlord of her own apartment in a rough and tumble area of urban Chicago, going to Peru alone, and living in Cuba for five months. Well, anyways, she has been kind enough to allow Claire and me to crash at her apartment. This is after Claire and I were entertained in Kalamazoo, Michigan by Sharon, Joe's sister. Thank you Sharon!! We had a fabulous time and more will be written about that bit of my journey later.

Today Kathleen sent me on my merry way on the “L” and I promptly got myself turned around, thinking that the lake was one way when it was the other. But eventually I found my way to the Art Institute of Chicago and had a fabulous time perusing photographs by Henry Callahan, ancient Asian art and numerous oil paintings of Christ.

Harry Callahan’s “Eleanor, Chicago” Circa 1949

I wrote in my little journal about this photograph: "Can imagine her serene face cracking to reveal big deep dark eyes and an iridescent smile."

I doodled terrible drawings, went shopping and good God, I got a Starbucks chai latte. I even saw myself reflected in a giant shiny bean at Millenium Park. Of course this was after getting propositioned by a young, nicely dressed black man with dreadlocks, as he looked at me as though I was a piece of meat (well, meatless vegan meat). I told him that I was in a relationship thank you and would not join him for dinner or lunch or breakfast as he had requested while licking his lips. Of course I did not mention that the aforementioned relationship was with myself.

Later a young man with twinkling blue eyes in a red shirt handed me a black balloon heart as we walked swiftly past each other. I didn’t even know what had happened for a few seconds (blame an Excedrin induced haze, I had a headache) and just stupidly smiled and clutched the balloon! I didn’t even say thank you. I feel so ashamed. I then spread the love by handing it to a man on the corner who was hawking those “Real Change” newspapers; he said “is that for me?” as I walked by, and then proceeded to try to force a newspaper on me. I turned down the newspaper after motioning to him that I had way too much in my arms already. Though, I feel like I should have kept the black balloon, but it would have shriveled into nothing anyway. Ah, the impermanence of life. I can pretty much summarize my trip by saying that I simply drifted along like an amoeba, sucking up images, smells and sounds as I scooted along.

I wanted to include a passage from my friend and fellow Earth Clubber (and writer). She is bopping about Europe by herself right now and wrote this in a journal:

"The serendipity of life is reflected through travel.  As musicians
slow and speed up passages to learn them thoroughly, traveling enables
me to examine life from a fast perspective.  The people I meet and the
adventures I have in a single day would easily equal 10 days at home.  
The course of my trip has been a real "Choose Your Own Adventure Story"
(remember those books?).  Simply by taking a wrong turn or having the nerve
to talk to a certain person, my trip has been radically altered.  Why do I
worry so much about school and my life when most of it is determined by serendipity?"