The Soundtrack of my Hood

Noise is comforting, it gives you reference, it creates a narrative of your immediate world. Scientifically, noise is sound waves or vibrations. The vibrations are detected by the ear and turned into nerve impulses that are understood by the brain. Hearing requires sensitivity to the movement of molecules in the world outside an organism. Neighborhood noise gives sensitivity to movement of life in the community outside of your home.
I think the soundtrack of Keystone gave me comfort. Fire engines, police cars, abulances, salsa, bacahata, banda, and hip-hop blasting, someone yelling up to a window, Le-o, Hec-tor, cars hitting the speed bump at full speed, the faint hum of North Avenue, Pulaski, or Grand Avenues, the F-word punctuating every conversation, all of these sounds ever so comforting and piquant.
I was scared at how quiet it was around my new place. Silence is scarier than a gun shot, silence stirs up the unknowns, the what if's, the turn my back, the who's theres. It was so quiet that you could hear crickets during the day. As days went by I longed for some drama on the street, maybe a curse filled fight, or a dope fiend passed out on my lawn, nope just landscapers mowing lawns, that is all you see and hear around here, landscapers mowing lawns. The soundtrack of my hood, Galewood, is crickets and lawnmowers. This doesn't comfort me, it gives me a reference of what I'm dealing with here, and it is surely a narrative of the lack of life outside my home.

One Month and 3.4 miles Away

Tomorrow marks one month of living in our new neighborhood. One month and 3.4 miles from my old life. How did we leave the most intense, stretching,fearful, courageous, painful, and exhilarating seven years of living we ever had lived. I don't know if I can tell my last few months of my time on Keystone it went from horrible in June to beautiful by the end of September, I think I will have to have to get into that at a later time. However, Katie and I had come to the point where all the doors were open to go, and we felt peace about stepping forward. Here we are now, in our Chicago bungalow, in Galewood. Both Katie and I are feeling different emotions about being here, I guess the perfect phrase to sum up our life here is, now what?

True Chicago: Jewel bag

Any True Chicagoan,when needing a plastic bag, will inventively request a Jewel bag, named for the Jewel-Osco grocery store. Jewel bags are used to throw out garbage and junk, best practice is to double Jewel bag it then throw that into a Jewel bag that you stuck into your plastic garbage can or waste basket, because lining your can with a Hefty cinch bag, with Febreeze, is for yuppies.

No True Chicagoan will pack lunch in a Tupperware container or a thermal insulated lunch bag, no, a True Chicagoan uses a Jewel bag, with a sammich wrapped in aluminum foil or paper towel, a banana, and a can of something or other.

Jewel bags are the favorite of old ladies, hence the nomenclature, bag lady.

Hang out in any Polish or Eastern European neighborhood neighborhood and you'll notice the Jewel bag as people walk down the street.

The Jewel bag, the True Chicago carry all.