Saturday, June 21, 2014

BYOF



We have settled into our Summer Chicago Adventure.  The true measure that we are really living here is that Thursday I got a haircut locally and did the laundry in the Laundromat on the first floor of our apartment building.  The jury is still out on how the haircut turned out, but the laundry is mostly dried, folded and put away.  I say mostly because some items are hanging on door knobs and a few hooks in the apartment because I didn’t want to pay another dollar for the dryer.  There was no way to put them in for another 10-minute, 25¢ cycle.  It was $1 or nothing.  Thus, the clothes are draped around the apartment.


But I really shouldn’t start out telling you the woes, because we really do love our 800 square-foot, 19th floor apartment.  I didn’t realize until yesterday when I got a glance into another apartment in the building how blessed we are to have a corner space with an almost panoramic view of the surrounding city of Edgewater, Rogers Park to the North, and West Ridge and Lincoln Square to the West. 

Green spaces with lofty trees dot and soften the cityscape of brick and blacktop. Between a few apartment buildings we have a glimpse of Lake Michigan, its beach and an occasional sailboat.  A few apartment buildings nearby have lush rooftop gardens, others have decks for outdoor living and some buildings have balconies off the apartments.  We thought we would enjoy a balcony, but at nineteen floors up my knees get rubbery opening and closing the windows.  The rooftop of our building is unadorned but has patio chairs and lounges.

Two things enhance the views.  Clean windows and binoculars.  Gratefully, we moved in during the window washing season. Our binoculars are part of our living room décor, so they are always handy.  And I’m of the mind that people intend for you to look into their apartments, that is why they keep their drapes open.

Creating a cozy welcoming place to come home to is part of the summer adventure.  It is true that we could live with less for the three months we’re here, but equipping and decorating is part of the fun.  We started off well with the furniture left by the graduate student who sub-leased to us.  She left a sofa, coffee table, end-table, TV stand, book shelf, bedroom furniture, a cute Chinese-red cabinet, a dining table and four not-so-well-painted chairs. One of the first things Wayne and I do in any new residence is cover the walls.  Usually I hardly have pictures and wall hangings unpacked and Wayne is hammering nails into the walls. We brought a few familiar items with us for this purpose. 



One item is an antique Middle Eastern baby cradle.  It’s not like any cradle you’ve ever seen.  It is a 44”X33” piece of leather with a 33”X 23” fabric inset.  Around the inset are leather appliques. The leather and fabric attach to a decoratively painted pole at each end. We bought this while we lived in Iran.  For the last forty years it has been in every basement we’ve owned.  Last fall we tried to sell it at our garage sale for a price no one would pay for the tattered item it is.  But one Iranian woman came through the sale and told Wayne that the price was too low because this item is very valuable.  The baby cradle came off the garage wall, went back into the basement and is now the piece-de-résistance in our apartment.  Now that I take more time to look at it, it really is quite exquisite.
 

The first night in the apartment we started hanging our stuff and then realized that we share walls with neighbors so we stopped the hammering until the next day.  Hanging the baby cradle was a challenge, but Wayne has MacGyver-type skills and using coax cable, the window-blind opening and closing handle and twine, we got it ready to hang.  We cheered the accomplishment.


An area rug that has been with us in every house we’ve lived in adds warmth to the lovely hardwood floors and gives a sense of home.  Another small carpet hangs on the wall and two Egyptian prints pull it all together.

The bedroom is simpler, two burlap coffee bean bags purchased in Saugatuck at a coffee shop adorn the walls and our bikes help fill up the room.

The kitchen was updated a couple of years ago, so the tiny space is sleek and modernized.  The dishwasher was broken when we moved in.  The management replaced it.  It was the fastest and easiest “repair” we’ve ever experienced. When I opened the dishwasher for the first time after using it, I saw the dishes were still wet.  The dishwasher brand is one we’ve never heard of, but Wayne found a phone number and called customer service.  From them we discovered there is no dryer on the dishwasher.  When the washing is done, we must open the door a bit and let the air dry the hot dishes.  Uh-huh. The next time that is what we did and it worked.  Energy saver for sure. However we have to run the dishwasher when we will be home or awake to open the door.

Actually I usually choose to wash the dishes in the sink because there are so few of them and I can’t wait until the dishwasher runs to have clean ones. Not wanting to bring too much stuff to have to move out after three months, I’ve left the kitchen understocked just enough to make food preparation mental gymnastics.   We have four forks, four spoons and four knives.  Somehow I failed to bring measuring spoons and I need a few more storage containers.  Often by the time I’ve prepared a meal, every utensil and dish in the kitchen is dirty. Cooking requires some improvisation, kitchen juggling and a list for the thrift store, but then that is all part of the adventure. 

We really are settled in and our apartment is the cozy, comfortable and familiar place we hoped it would be.  It is simple, but our life here in Chicago this summer is simple.  This is all such a gift from God to us.  So when we are riding the express bus 147 returning from a Grant Park Summer Symphony Concert or the Chicago History Museum, the thrift store, Park Church Near North Campus, Chicago Tabernacle’s Tuesday night prayer meeting or on bike riding from Navy Pier or Jewel Osco, we look forward to unlocking the multiple locks on our apartment door and being home.

We’d love to have you come by and see our place.  Just Bring Your Own Fork.

Thursday, June 5, 2014

The Honor Flight of My Dad, the WWII Veteran



It was the end of a long day for the 91 WWII veterans who left Chicago at 6:30 a.m. to tour War Memorials in Washington, D.C.  But 9:00 p.m. was the beginning of the celebration for us; those who were welcoming them home.  In the morning the veterans were nostalgically sent off with the Andrews- Sisters-style music of the Legacy Girls.  After arriving in Washington, the veterans toured the Lincoln Monument, the newly-constructed WWII memorial, the Korean memorial, the Viet Nam memorial, the Iwo Jima Memorial and the Udvar Hazy National Air and Space Museum.  And now at the end of their day a brass band played all the patriot songs while scads of volunteers donned in orange shirts passed out American flags to the friends and families who stood behind parade route guide ropes in Chicago Midway Airport Baggage Claim area. The bright faced, highly enthusiastic and helpful volunteers informed us of what the veterans in their 80’s and 90’s had experienced during the day and our role in welcoming them home.  The spirit of the crowd was high.  It didn’t take much imagination to put myself back at the end of WWII and be a grateful, relieved, joy-filled spectator at a “Welcome home, soldier” parade.  In Midway Airport the anticipation was growing and when the bagpipes began, we knew the first veterans were headed to the start of the procession. When we saw them we were almost hushed with awe.  Unlike 70 years ago, these were not young men and women, but people who had live their lives and for many a wheel chair or an oxygen tank were their constant companion.  However, I only saw one veteran break through the line of spectators to get to the restroom.

The volunteers led the way for us by reaching out to shake the gnarled hands of these freedom fighters while, saying, “Thank you for your service.”  It didn’t take long for us to get into the groove.

My dad was one of the first ones to emerge and one of the few that walked the distance. He stopped along the parade route to give mom a kiss and then continued responding to the flag-waving crowds.   He worked it like he was going down the aisles on Sunday mornings greeting people.  He didn’t pass up a kid and even stooped to talk to many of them.  Each veteran had a U.S. Sailor to push his wheel chair or carry his accumulated paraphernalia from the day.  Dad’s navy escort was attentive to his every move and ready to catch this elderly man if he started to fall.  I caught her grin as Dad displayed more energy than she might have anticipated from him.

Mom stayed in her place until the end of the stream of veterans, thanking each one of them for their service and acknowledging their accompanying sailor for his/hers.  That is her habit, even off the parade route.  If a gentleman is wearing a veteran’s insignia on his ball cap, my mom will approach him and ask where he served and thank him for protecting his country.  She didn’t date my dad until after the war,  but she had many friends and brothers of friends that she sent “letters from home” for those so important mail calls. But tonight she was a girl on the parade route that a sailor picked to kiss.

In the next few days my dad will be opening up the letters sent to him for the Honor Flight Mail Call from family and friends expressing their gratitude and honoring his role as radioman on the USS Cascade. 

My emotions and tears flowed freely from behind the guide ropes.  Very soon I followed my mom’s example and grew intent to shake every Honor Flight Veteran’s hand.  They wore name tags so I called them by their name, “Thank you Mr. Meyers, for your service.”  “Ed, welcome home.”  I regret that not-soon-enough did I start acknowledging and thanking the young sailor pushing the wheel chair. Now I was hoping they had found another plane full of these veteran Marines, Sailors, Soldiers and Airmen. Bring on more.  This is great fun! This is joyful and exhilarating.  

If you know any WWII veterans, strongly consider signing them up for the Honor Flight.  The website for the Chicago area is www.honorflightchicago.org .  (phone: 773 227 8387)  Don’t let age or immobility of the veteran dissuade you.  You can also visit the website to view the inspiring pictures and video. Check out the WWII Memorial website to see if your loved one is registered there.  If not, you can enter their information.  www.wwiimemorial.com

At some point in the handshaking, I was no longer reminiscing about 70 years ago, but projecting into the future and I realized what I want to be when I eventually step into the other side of eternity.  I want to be a welcomer in Heaven!  Wouldn’t that just be the best assignment ever!  “Welcome, home!”  “We’ve been waiting for you!”  “Thank you for fighting the good fight!”  “We’re glad you’re here.” “We’ve been praying for your safe arrival.”

This futuristic thought actually felt so very good in the wake of some pretty heavy earthly losses recently in our extended church family and friends.  For a moment the “Welcoming home festivities for the June 4th Honor Flight Veterans” (and believe me it was a full evening of festivities) put me on the other side of grief and gave me the tiniest peek at heaven.  If I get there before you, I’ll call you by name as I cheer you in.

After the parade Dad told us he shook more hands during the day than he had in his entire life and he was asked by some 6th graders from Colorado in D.C. to have his picture taken with them.
“Words can’t describe…” he said as he tried to tell us something of the so-much-to-tell experience.

And words don’t adequately express my experience on the sidelines either.  Let’s just say that I have an iota of an inkling of what Heaven’s welcoming festivities could be.  What a Day that Will Be!

Postscript:  Now that I have given you a thousand words, here is a picture that says it all.  Dad at his best!
https://www.dropbox.com/s/f93k9qh26id8321/2014-06-04%2022.06.28.mov?dl=0

ALERT:  Wayne and  I have moved to Chicago just for the summer.  If you want to follow my blog during this adventure of ours, sign up at the bottom of this page.