Suspended Coffee

Over the course of my adult life, I have lived in the city of Chicago for many years and currently do. It is cold here and, sadly, with the cold brings the issue of our homeless increasingly to the forefront of my mind. It is not that I am seeing them more; actually I am seeing them far less than in warmer months. I pass by people every single day cold and hungry with cups in their oftentimes gloveless hands. Most politely ask for any spare change. Usually I don't have any, but they thank me for checking anyway.

Yesterday, I saw him before he saw me. He was perched in a poplar spot on a sidewalk curb in front of the corner Chase Bank.

With both my hands clutching two heavy grocery bags with not a penny in my coat pocket, I explained that I had no change and offered him a banana instead. He asked if I could come back later with change; he really needed money. I said I didn’t think so, but I had these bananas. He replied, “Okay, I’ll take the banana. How about two?” I gave him the bunch and he thanked me.

Last winter, there was a string of nights colder than a witches’s XXX. The moisture of my breath almost froze instantly as I exhaled.

An old woman, extremely small in stature even though wrapped in a full length, puffy coat, pulled a heaping cart down the same crowded theater district I was also passing though with what I assumed were her every belonging. 

I had gloves. She did not. I asked if she wanted mine. 

She didn't say yes or no.

As soon as she let go of her cart to reach for my gloves, the cart tipped over dumping half of what she owned onto the bustling sidewalk. She started screaming at me. I didn’t understand what she was saying. I knew I had agitated her. Asking if I could help only made her scream louder. I didn’t know what do and didn’t want to upset her further. I don’t know if she was embarrassed. I thought maybe she was mentally unstable. In any case, I did the only thing a lame person (that’s me) could think of, and that was to lay the gloves in front of her.

There are so many instances like this in a large metropolitan area. 

The first I told you because it happened yesterday. The second because I am still haunted by the woman who I have actually seen around here and there since.

Sometimes I don’t know what to do. Sometimes I feel stupid continuing to try. Sometimes I am at a loss. My efforts seem lame. Like all the time. But my feelings or discomfort are not what matters or going to make me stop. I am old enough to know that most things in this world, in life, even in my own, are not about me. 

I do what I can. I smile a lot. I suspend coffee.

Somehow, it is just not good enough.

Vacation Reading

Before anyone gets really upset with me, remember I am probably 15 years older than you with over half my life now in the rearview mirror. Want to trade ages?

I have a standard sized, black 24” piece of luggage. I bring it on all my trips because no matter how hard the zipper is to secure, it is almost surely guaranteed to weigh less than the 50 pound weight restriction. Also, I make my hubby get on the scale with it because I have absolutely no desire to see what I weigh, fully clothed, right before I am about to go and gain more weigh. Uh, uh.

When packing for vacation, most people would spend the majority of time pondering what to wear. There is the daytime climate and temperature to consider, but also the evening. I have always subscribed to the theory that having options is best.

Except, this is not how my mind works. I spend hours selecting my book options. Sure, I can buy a book at an airport, but what if they only have some cheesy best-sellers that hold no interest to me. Plus, I have about one hundred unread books here and I might have book-shopped in anticipation.

So like the weather, my vacation book choices must also take into account a multitude of situational factors like if there is traffic on the way to the airport because there's always traffic in Chicago, a plane delayed by weather because it's Chicago, climate changes at destination (sunshine vs. rain), daytime or nighttime, tipsy or not, heavy or light content, etc.. 

I need an airport read to satisfy any quick seconds I have as hubby walks off to get us coffee or glass of wine (poems). One for the 4 hour plane ride there, a pool option for when others are around because I get distracted by conversation (short story collection). Should I get a few hours all to myself when everyone else goes golfing, I will need one then (because I would probably finish the book from plane trip)! I will need one to read after hubby falls asleep. Lastly, I will need one for the trip home unless I see that a good movie will be playing eastbound from California.

See how my wheels spin?

You may be wondering how all these books affect my luggage weight, so let me explain. I usually carry on two, pack a few lighter ones in my suitcase then stick the heaviest one plus a few pairs of shoes and all the sunscreen into my husband’s bag because his never, ever approaches the weight maximum. And a girl’s got to have options.

Or just maybe, I should pack one big one to read when I can, but spend most of the time talking to the people I am with.That’s a tough one for a rather reserved, voracious reader. You know what I mean?