The Candy Man and Psalm 27

I went to Wabash Tap last night to meet with a couple who goes to Urban Village and we were sitting there, quietly (well, not so quietly as the Blackhawks game was on in the background) chatting and they were munching on cheeseburgers when a man approached us. His odor and demeanor made it pretty clear that he had been drinking quite heavily. He was wearing a Blackhawks jersey and he put a miniature Stanley Cup down on our table.

"I need you to rub this for good luck," he slurred.

For those who don't know, the Blackhawks are in the playoffs against the Vancouver Canucks, but they were behind 3 games to none in the best-of-seven series. In other words, things were looking pretty grim.

The man started chatting about the Blackhawks for a while (I'm not a hockey fan, but I knew enough to keep the conversation going) and, after we rubbed the cup for luck, he moved on to the next table. About 15 minutes later, he was back. He had a plastic Walgreens bag filled with large boxes of Whoppers, Sno-Caps, and Jujyfruit candies.

"Here," he said. "Take one."

I wasn't exactly sure what he meant, but apparently he wanted us to have one of these boxes of candy. I wondered why he was being so generous and he explained to me that people knew him around that bar as the Candy Man because he gives away candy. Who am I to say no to the Candy Man so I took a box of Whoppers. I wanted to thank him by his real name so I asked him what other name he goes by. "I'm also known as Mr. Big," he said.

Of course he is.

This morning, I read my latest Favorite Verse in the Bible from Psalm 27:13-14: "I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!" I particularly like verse 13. I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. I've been repeating that to myself all day today and when thinking of my interaction with the Candy Man (aka Mr. Big), I believe I shall see the goodness of the Lord in that exchange.

The wheels on the bus

I love the bus. I hate the bus. This is the dilemma.

I'm really starting to get the hang of mass transit and I'm learning more and more that, for the most part, I prefer the L to the bus. If there aren't many people on the bus and it doesn't creep and crawl along State Street (for example), I prefer the bus, but that doesn't seem to be happening lately. Plus there was incident yesterday that troubled me deeply.

We were moving so slowly south on State when a guy across the aisle started yelling at the bus driver. I really wasn't paying attention to what he was saying but a woman (she was probably in her late 60s/early 70s) said something back to him. He then let her have it verbally, starting swearing at her, made abusive comments about her age. And we all just sat there.

I don't really know what to do in those situations. This was a really big guy who was really belligerent and was also taking big swigs of beer while all this was going on. Do you stand up for the woman and incur his wrath? Tell the bus driver? He had to be hearing this. Or just do nothing and hope the woman isn't scarred by this incident. She didn't seem to be, but it really ticked me off and I wanted to get in this guy's face, which probably wouldn't have solved anything. Sigh. What would Jesus do, indeed.

Of course, I could also ride the L where just last Monday we got in and noticed that someone had vomited all over one of the seats.

Really wants to make you live in the city, no?

Thankful for Rochelle

My apologies to everyone who lives in Rochelle, IL, but I really didn't want to visit you last Friday. At first. I had to attend a United Methodist administrative-type meeting and was dreading the drive out there, but, thankfully, the traffic was clear and as soon as I made it out of the Chicagoland area, I was so glad for the trip. I'm not usually a country music fan, but I had a CD that someone gave me and it fit perfectly. Cornfields, small towns, lower gas prices.

Sometimes city living can be exhausting. I've been feeling that for the past few days. The litter gets to me as do the sirens and all-around congestion. I think I'm wise enough to know that I wouldn't be completely happy in a small town, but it was so nice just to connect to that simpler life; maybe it was connecting to a part of my story, too, seeing as I spent the first 24 years of my life in small(ish) towns.

It reminded me once again of the need for true Sabbath, a time to get out of my routine, go somewhere that isn't congested and just sit, stare, and be.

Big questions discussed over waffles

My wife had to go to the grocery store near dinner time last night so I offered to make waffles for the kids. Waffles are great for a Sunday night meal (at least that's what I tell myself) and my daughter and son heartily agree. As we sat there spreading the butter and pouring the syrup, my 5-year-old son made the comment apropos of nothing that he missed our old house.

We moved from the suburbs to downtown Chicago last summer and people often ask how the kids have made the transition. They seem to be happy most of the time and are making new friends so I always assume that everything is going great, forgetting that they still have memories and that there still may be a sense of loss. I was further taken aback when my daughter (who'll be nine in May) immediately agreed with him. It's been a while since they've said anything about missing our previous home so I followed up with the typical questions. Why do you miss it? What specifically do you miss? It was hard for them to articulate at first, but my daughter eventually gave me three specific answers.

She misses having a back yard.

She misses having her own swing set.

There's more litter where we live now.

I couldn't really disagree with her points and I spent the rest of the evening pondering all this and feeling a little guilty about the move. We moved because I'm helping start a new church in the city and, personally and professionally, I really haven't regretted it at all. But, of course, when you're married with two kids and an aging dog, it's not all about me.

She's right about the litter. I've noticed it, too, as the snow begins to melt. This may be the ugliest time of the year because the remaining snow drifts are now charcoal gray and the warmer weather reveals small bits of garbage and dog waste. It's not overwhelming, but it is noticeable. I also understand her missing the swing set that we had. There is a sense of convenience and ownership about having your own swing set rather than having to the park. We spent more time talking about not having a back yard because the last few days she's been having a great time playing soccer with some other kids her age in the courtyard/parking lot in the back of our town house. She agreed with my observation, but noted that when you play on asphalt, it hurts when you fall down as opposed to playing on grass.

I can't deny that some sacrifices have been made in living where we do and I must confess that I sometimes jump to quickly to the advantages, like the diversity and living so close to so many world-class museums. I don't spend as much time thinking about what we left behind. But, like most parents, I pray that my kids might learn some lessons in all this.

Rather than moving to escape the litter, another option would be to pick up a bag and pick some of the litter up. My wife did that a few months ago. A car window was broken outside our home and the glass stayed on the ground for days. I kept expecting the Broken Car Window Clean-up Fairy to come by and take care of it but s/he didn't show up. So my wife put on some gardening gloves and did it herself.

Rather than moving so that we can have our own swing set, I hope my kids learn about sharing public resources while they play at the park and rub elbows with children who come from a wide variety of backgrounds.

And rather than moving so we can have a backyard with grass, maybe they'll learn that falling down sometimes hurts and so you have to make the decision whether to get back up again and keep kicking the ball.

As I pray that my kids learn these lessons, however, I also wonder about the last time that I picked up a bag or shared my resources or got back up off the ground without grumbling or blaming someone or Someone else. We're learning lessons together.

After we finished our waffles, the kids went out on the little deck outside our kitchen to play with some Silly String that one of them got at a birthday party. In a matter of minutes, they went from talking about what they missed to rejoicing at what was before them. The string squirted out onto the parking lot and landed on the asphalt, the same asphalt that will cushion their fall when they get the soccer ball out tomorrow.

Wanted: Wide, open spaces

We're understandably been asked quite a bit how we like living in the city compared to the suburbs and we've really loved it. I'm speaking for all of us, which may be a bit presumptuous (the kids occasionally say they want to move back), but I've really thrived on the energy that living downtown offers.

Until today. Or, more accurately, until last Friday.

My wife's birthday was yesterday so I spent a little time shopping for her gift on Friday. She had a couple specific requests which I thought would make things easy, but for some reason I got caught in the vortex of North Michigan Avenue and didn't feel like I could escape. I'm not a big fan of shopping the Magnificent Mile--too many people, too many stores, not enough selection (at least for what I wanted). I finally got out of there with my purchases, but ever since then I've had this feeling of claustrophobia and the city feels like it's closing in on me a bit. Part of the reason may be that our son's been sick so we've been cooped inside with him during this beautiful weekend. I so wanted to escape to a forest preserve this afternoon, but Anne had some friends coming down so it didn't work out. Maybe a run by the lake tomorrow will help.