Musing about Los Angeles distances recently, I was surprised to learn my mental yardstick had finally changed time zones.
On May 21st, I was blessed with the unexpected opportunity to be interviewed by the nonprofit oral-history project, StoryCorps. I visited their mobile recording studio, temporarily parked in Pilsen…and told my 9/11 story for the national September 11th Initiative. From StoryCorps, here is my recorded remembrance of the day that changed my life and, ultimately, brought me to Chicago.
The EPA just added Brooklyn’s Gowanus Canal to the Superfund list, fast-tracking a cleanup effort for the long-polluted waterway. But whether that’s an environmentally just outcome depends on whom you ask.
One of the things I shouted loudest when I first began Chicago Carless four-and-a-half years ago no longer applies. Back in mid-2005, I still carried around my New-York-native anti-surburban bias. On recent reflection, it’s time to let the suburbs have their due. At least in Chicago.
Today, with the world again awash in retrospect, I usually prefer to be blogging about about courtesy, or kittens, or one of any number of safer, happier, topics. Seven years on and I had originally thought not to mark the occasion again. At some point, we just have to emotionally let go inside, or we destroy ourselves. In the end, while I feel no need to make a pilgrimage to a dusty construction site in Lower Manhattan, I still feel a need for words.
Last week, I was at a loss for words. Try as I might to blog, nothing came. Nothing could. I was preoccupied with an unfolding miracle–one that continues to reveal its happy countenance, its joyous contours. Just where does one begin to describe the feeling of finding long-lost family?
You have better things to do today than to read a post from me. There are far more important people in your life and you know you’ve been taking them for granted. Yes, I’m talking to you. Now get off the Internet, pick up the phone, and tell them so. No, I’m not kidding.