milkweed musings

It looked nearly like a time-lapse, how the clouds hurried through the Chicago sky this morning. I described it as a Breaking Bad transition scene (Ryan and I are moving VERY slowly through my first-time watch of BB, and finally made it to season 5 this week).

Today was Indie Bookstore Day, and I awoke an optimist, planning on hitting ten bookstores in one day for the coveted 10% off at Participating Stores for the Entire Year card. However, I underestimated the hustle of book lovers in Chicago and their equal optimism toward this endeavor, and our first stop was buuusyyyy (spoiler: I made it to ONE participating bookstore today!).

Ryan and I had driven to the south side because I wanted to make a morning of books, coffee, and a walk in nature. Ryan had plans to go to the Sox game anyway, so it worked out to go out there together. Once parked, a quick walk up the street brought us to Build Coffee and Books. Neither of us had been there before, and it was surprising rounding the corner and seeing thirty-ish people queued up for this little joint. We didn’t mind. It felt nice to stand in the sun, watch the clouds cruise along, and people-watch while we waited for our turn to order.

There were so many tote bag wielders, and it entertained me imagining interviewing each one, asking where the tote was from and why they’d chosen that one (“Totes Cool” my new, new blog about tote origins). Modest Mouse, Pilsen Community Books, and Big Bud Press, along with many wordless and nameless totes with and without designs, were sprinkled among the crowd. I like to daydream, and in ways it’s impossible for me not to.

Ryan’s black cold brew was ready quickly. I’d ordered a latte which wasn’t a genius idea on my part, since the line of espresso drinks was quite deep. But it gave us time to continue our silly observations of the world around us. The sunlight looked so beautiful through the budding leaves above. We gnawed on jamon buerre (had fun trying to pronounce that at the order window) because the baguette it was on was un pue… hard.

After a bit, we walked off with our drinks in the direction of Jackson Park. I wanted to see what the Obama presidential library looked like, and the new building was along the path to our destination. The design of the building, to me, is kind of unsettling. But I’m curious to learn about the story building of the architects’ design. Why were the materials chosen? What are they trying to convey through the design? This normally doesn’t interest me too much, but the building is the most unique one I’ve seen in a while, and it stands out like a monolith amongst the flat, spacious green around it.

Taking the path into Jackson Park, the most picturesque view of the Museum of Science and Industry appeared in front of us. I’d never seen the museum from this angle. On field trips or for fun, I’d always been driven there, parking in the garage and never going around to the pictured side. This building was constructed for the 1893 World’s Columbian Exhibition. It’s amazing looking out at such a grand visual relic of the past.

Resuming our walk, we crossed the bridge to the Osaka Garden, a Japanese garden nestled inside Jackson Park. Years ago, I began being very inspired by gardens through their different types of design and methods of care. Japanese gardens well exemplify the effect that design can have on the mind. The park employee at the gate asked us to take a deep breath and release it, channeling a relaxed energy.

Entering the garden, immediately I stopped because the vibrance of the flowering shrubs captivated me. Then, taking in the curves and shapes of all the sculpted shrubs in my field of vision overwhelmed me with awe. It’s a strong reaction, sure, but that’s how standing in gardens often makes me feel.

Akin to Zen gardens, park employees/volunteers raked designs into the gravel pathways. Birdsong echoed around us, flowering shrubs and trees bounced from the light breeze, and I really did feel at peace. It’s not a very large garden at all, but it’s grand in its presence. How lucky are we to have a place like this in the city?

Walking back to the car with Ryan, I felt so grateful to be with a patient person. I’m a notorious stopper and looker. I really need to stop and look. At everything, probably! Beauty is in everything. I explained this to him (possibly for the twentieth time), how light, shadows, textures, colors, in any given thing can hold so much beauty. I eventually stopped stopping, and we made it back to the car. I had another bookstore I wanted to check out, and Sox park was on the way. Ryan loves going to giveaway games, and the Sox really have great giveaway merch. We’d gotten there over 3 hours before game time, but it was especially busy today, so it worked out for Ryan to get out then instead of popping by later. He later told me that he made a friend at the game and sat and talked with this dude through most of the game. They kept buying each other beers. Never got his name. Never got a number. Life is like that sometimes.

Tangible Books has been on my bookstore list for a really long time. It’s a used bookstore in Bridgeport, and they had pretty much every genre imagined. Despite spending nearly an hour in there, I left with just one book: Ghosts in the Schoolyard by Eve L. Ewing. I’d seen this book years ago in a shop and added to my list, so I was glad to see it. She writes of the mass closings of schools in Chicago, especially on the south side of the city. I remember seeing news stories about this and feeling devastated for the youth affected by the negligent and lowkey (or blatantly?) racist actions of the city government. I’m so excited to read this because, truthfully, I’d forgotten this was on my list! And with education, knowledge, and literacy being constantly threatened in this country, I’m curious to see if affected communities were able to recover at all despite the closures. How are they still affected to this day?

About the drive home… If Portillo’s saved lives today, one of them was mine. That’s all I have to say about that.

I’d gotten home and felt exhausted. It kept occurring to me that I really thought I’d make it to at least 5-6 bookstores, with hopes of reaching 10. I don’t know how they (BOOK CRAWLERS) do it. I got horizontal within minutes. But then I was forced convinced by a friend to meet at another bookstore, this time in Lakeview. I really wanted to stay in bed. I really did. But I checked and saw that a bus would be coming in 9 minutes, and I figured at least I’d be able to sit and read for a half hour. Plus, I could stop at a shop nearby while I wait for my friend to make it down there from farther north. Sweating and overstimulated in the gift shop, I answer my friend’s call and she informs me that she will NOT be coming, but that I should come to dinner (her original scheme was to get me to go for tapas). We laugh it off, and despite the annoyance of leaving the comfort of my bed, I’m grateful for the walk and the time spent on the bus reading about Howard Dully’s 1960 lobotomy. I will say, I remain bewildered by how quickly $50 goes at a gift shop.

I’ve had a fear of doing things alone. I used to be pretty confident in my solitude and really preferred to do things on my own. I think that was before social media had become such a massive presence in my life. Using apps like Instagram and Tiktok (especially ig for all these years) has made me chronically anxious about how I’m perceived. This has affected my confidence with doing things alone. I would’ve gone alone this morning if I wasn’t afraid (what is this fear even made of outside of paranoia and irrational thinking?), and I appreciated Ryan’s company which motivated me to leave the house and helped me feel safe in the act of going someplace new. I’d love for that sense of confidence and security to be rooted within me, and not remain dependent on the company of others to experience new things. I practiced some of this today after dropping Ryan off at the game. I did go new places. I slowed down, stopped, and started again, even when I didn’t feel motivated to. I didn’t get stuck in a thought loop. It’s this momentum that carries me once I get started. I just have to get started, and so often that is the hardest part.

All this to say, we (I) must continue experiencing the world around us, even when anxiety and fear want to control our participation in this. For not staying home, I was fortunate enough to see red-winged black birds chase each other, dancing through the air. I got to get up close to several lilac bushes and smell, smell, smell. I had time to be offline and focused solely on my book, the view, the sounds. I guess I’m just glad I got up today and chose to be an optimist, even if not everything turned out as planned.