Another Plug for The 3/50 Project

Saturday I stopped into one of my favorite shops (a locally-owned and independent business, I might add) to look for a gift and check out the winter sale items. The place is like a candy store to me. I want at least two of everything whether I need it or not, so it wasn't surprising that when my total was rung up, I had spent close to seventy dollars. 

However, the credit card machine was not working and as fate would have it, I hadn't brought my checkbook and had only a few dollars in my wallet. Before I even had a chance to get sad and ask for a minute to say goodbye to all the lovely treasures I was going to have to leave behind, the owner told me it wasn't a problem. I could take the bag of goodies and just mail her a check later. 

I'll let that sink in.

This woman who didn't know me, knew only that I had patronized her business before, (and knew that because she took the time to talk with me during my visits), let me walk out of her shop with quite a bit of merchandise that I didn't pay for and had no idea if I ever would. I'm still flabbergasted. 

I'm not promoting the idea that everyone should manage their business like this because let's face it, you could go to the poorhouse pretty quickly if you were a bad judge of character... however, how refreshing and uplifting to know that somewhere in this cold, cynical world there is someone who believes in the good in people. Someone who believes that putting good karma into the world is what brings the greatest joy in return. Someone who thinks seventy dollars is a small price to pay for the chance to make a loyal customer for life. 

Try finding that at a national chain store. 

Labor Day

I hope all my American and Canadian friends had a wonderful holiday weekend. Mine was full of laughs, sun, music, good people and one large, lovable dog. I had time to chat with friends, catch up with family and take care of myself a bit, too. And the house got the deep cleaning it was desperately needing.

It was a very good weekend.

Holiday Weekend

After work on Friday, I caught the train to Chicago for the long weekend. As I suspected, I was not the only one with this idea as the train was completely sold out. A good number of Cardinals fans from St. Louis as well as Blackhawks fans from all over were aboard, headed into the city for a weekend of sports mania. Other than a few interesting drunken outbursts by a couple of them, it was a pretty standard journey.

Normally Canal Street is lined with taxis just waiting for people to spill out of Union Station and into their waiting back seats. Not so after 9 p.m. I, along with several other people, had to stand on the curb, arms outstretched, waiting for one of the dozens of taxis driving by to stop. As dumb as it sounds, I enjoyed it. That is one little slice of urban living I never get to experience in daily life. 

After checking into the hotel, ordering room service and unpacking, I enjoyed a quiet night of reading and thinking. I slept pretty well, if not long enough. I woke in darkness and sat for hours on the chaise lounge in front of the window, watching Chicago wake up. Everything was shrouded in dark shadows and blankets of gray and then as the sun rose, color was painted onto everything in vibrant hues. I love Chicago in the morning.

I spent the morning reading and writing and then headed just across the river to see the Memorial Day Parade. The weather could not have been more perfect. The sun was bright and only too warm if you had to stand in it for quite a while. I found a great parade-watching spot at the corner of State and Lake, the parade's starting point, which gave me the opportunity to alternate standing in the sun and under the El tracks to cool down. 

The parade was an amazing two hours of emotions. The number of veterans and young recruits, heroes of yesterday and today, surrounded and serenaded by dozens of marching bands playing military hymns was humbling. People on the sidelines watched and cheered, waved flags and shouted greetings, swollen with pride and patriotism. It was a fleeting moment of unity in an otherwise disparate world. I hope to experience it again.

Sunday was a day of reflection and soul-searching and writing. Fortunately, just when I was feeling completely bogged down in the mire of uncertainty and questioning that plagues times like those, I was due to arrive at the theater for a matinee of The 39 Steps. It was exactly what I needed. Completely entertaining, engrossing and engaging, it was a comical, lighthearted spoof that showcased everything magical about live performances. I left impressed and feeling more positive than I had all day.

When Monday morning came, I was not ready to come home because I never feel more at home than I do in Chicago. But normal life must be dealt with and I made my way to the station to catch the first train back. The car was nearly half-empty that early in the morning. To keep my mind busy and away from thoughts of the last time I traveled home on that train I daydreamed of the next time I could visit Chicago. I am already anxious to return. But isn't that how we all feel about home?