Today’s quote is from James Baldwin, a civil rights activist, an incredible writer, a gay man, a Black man who used his brilliance to outshine the hatred he faced.
“Perhaps home is not a place but simply
an irrevocable condition.”
It comes from Giovanni’s Room,
published in 1956. I love this quote. It makes me think about what belongs to
me permanently, what a change of ZIP codes cannot take away.
When someone asks where I’m from, I tell
them Chicago. I was born on Montrose Avenue, lived in the city until I was
twelve, and worked in the Loop for over thirty years. Chicago is in my voice
and in my blood pressure as well.
But home has never been one permanent
address.
My parents moved me from the North Side to
the South Side, then to Indianapolis and over to Oak Park. Indianapolis never
quite felt like home, even though the strongest household of my childhood was
there, my maternal grandmother’s small house in Broad Ripple.
That house had structure, Faith, and German
nurturing. Things a kid might not appreciate until he becomes the adult
responsible for providing them to his kids. Years later, I would try to build
those same things into my own home in the Divorced Dad District.
Oak Park felt like home to me. My father
was there, I had a solid base of friends, and it became the place where I found
my footing as an adult.
Then marriage and parenthood moved me
around again. Somewhere along the way, I found places to live without finding a
home.
Finally, divorce landed me in the town by
the river. From the ashes of a failed marriage, I found a home and began to
understand what I needed to put into it.
Which brings me back to Baldwin’s
word: irrevocable.
Something that cannot be taken
away. Something I carried from Edgewater to Broad Ripple, from Hemingway’s
hometown to Riverside. Something gathered along the way that nobody can take
from me.
Home is the identity we carry with us. Our
faith, our spirit, our love, our moods. The people who shaped us and the habits
they left behind for us to learn. Memories are irrevocable lessons that never
abandon us.
For me, it is being a jagoff with a
Chicagonese accent and having a little Hoosier wholesomeness underneath. It is
the anxiousness of working on a trading floor and the tenderness of witnessing
three children enter the world.
It is opening a library book to page one,
eager to discover what waits in the last chapter. Walking a leaf-littered path
at the height of autumn. Hearing Big John Wrencher play his harmonica on
Maxwell Street with the smell of grilled onions drifting from the polish
sausage stand. It is Being a cafeteria Catholic and a miserable fan of mediocre
sports teams.
It is knowing my parents brought me into
this world and believing they will welcome me into heaven.
It is changing a diaper, putting gloves on
little hands, watching a cartoon, making pancakes, wiping a nose, tying a shoe,
and unclogging the toilet. Home has plenty of tender moments, but somebody
still has to clean up the snot and crap.
It is the thrill of an opening bell and the
roar of an uptick. The smell of a CTA platform on a sweltering summer night.
The fireworks when the White Sox hit a home run. The heat of that first bite of
thin-crust pizza and the drips of Italian Beef juice down your forearms.
It is a phone call from an old friend whose
voice makes the years disappear.
These are the irrevocable pieces of my life.
They belong to me wherever I live.
5700 North Kenmore, 106th and Avenue E.,
6130 Indianola, 220 South Lombard. I can still name the addresses, but an
address alone never made any of them home. The people, the routines, the meals,
the love, and even the aggravation gave those places their meaning.
I carried something away from each of them.
Together, those things gave my heart and soul a foundation. They also gave me
something to offer my children as they begin building lives of their own.
Thank you, James Baldwin, for helping me
figure it out. A small gay Black man from Harlem reached across the years and
made sense to a heavyset, vagitarian white kid from Chicago.
Enjoy
the best weeks of autumn, Chalkheads. I have put a couple dates in the grabber
section to keep us aware of the time. The season moves quickly. Take a walk
while the leaves are still putting on their fashion show.
Gusto, astonishment, irrevocable
conditions, and a smile on the sun.
