Strange Days

This morning I made my way into the studio a bit late, still trying to get my bearings after the time change and the shifting light. Somewhere outside I heard whistles—Chicago’s ICE in the neighborhood warning system—so I grabbed my coat and bag to investigate.

Outside I found nothing amiss, only people going about their daily lives and a sunny, unseasonably warm day, too beautiful to resist. I walked down to the local coffee shop, where I had the most heavenly latte, an Abrazos, which, the barista told me, means hug in Spanish.

The more I walk this neighborhood, the more I love it. There’s always something new and unexpected to be found and today’s walk did not disappoint.

A sidewalk museum of found objects.

A sidewalk museum, A quirky 3-wheeler, a plethora of dried Catalpa seed pods to bring home to the studio. The discovery of a new-to-me Mexican/Mediteranian restaurant with plenty of gluten free options. Falling leaves, sunshine, warm friendly faces. I came home inspired and ready to work.

Almost as soon as I walked in my door a neighbor texted to say there was a heavy ICE presence in the neighborhood and it was all hands on deck when the local school lets out this afternoon. And then I heard it again, very distinct this time, the three short whistle blasts alerting neighbors. I grabbed my things and went out again but still couldn’t locate the source.

I walked to the library and finally got my Chicago library card and brought home a book filled with protest art and settled in to eat lunch. I’ll head out again in a few minutes to join the group of neighbors surrounding the school.

The sun will be shining. There will be sounds of daily life in the background. The birds cooing, car horns and music, distant sirens and ordinary city things. A strange, surreal, juxtaposition of the day.