Chicago Times

Aaaaaaaaaand we’re back! Corrie has returned, people, with a year’s worth of back stories to retell. Just kidding- I can’t remember that far back: I’m getting too old! Besides, I’m into a different chapter of my life; the page has been turned and there’s no going back. If you haven’t heard, I am no longer in Rice Lake, WI, but am now in Palos Hills, IL. My life as Crazy Corrie has come to an end: crafts and children are no longer in the picture (well, that’s a lie – they will always be in the picture for me!). But the Boys and Girls Club of Barron County and AmeriCorps are behind me, and American Christian Tours and the TEFOL Academy of Chicago are ahead! I’m living with my grandpa (my mom’s father) who was recently diagnosed with blood clots and an unidentified mass, so who knows whether I have not come to Chicago for such a time as this?  Only God knows…but I am confident of this - many adventures and ridiculous blunders are ahead. The country (U.P.) mouse in the city is destined for awkward and memorable incidents to be sure! Not to mention a “young girl” finding herself in the midst of crazy old people is a scenario that’s always good for a laugh! I’ve only been here since Monday evening, but these last two and a half days have not been without humour!

Day one, my trip to Chicago, was relatively eventless. A theoretic 5 hour drive from Wausaukee to Chicago turned into, of course, a 6 hour drive with stop-and-go traffic in Milwaukee and a great deal of construction, but all that was routine and expected. Attempting to locate my grandfather’s house in the endless suburbs of the greater Chicago area without a GPS, however, was another story. Google Maps did its best, but it doesn’t account for construction and dark & rainy nights. Well, long story short, I went east instead of west for a good 5 miles. Realizing my blunder and rather frustrated by the endless “Walgreens on the Corner” (which was supposed to be my landmark), I began shouting to myself and  may or may not have punched the steering wheel a few times at a stop light. Looking up from my frustrated rant, I realized to my chagrin that the man in the car next to me was staring bemused! Well, Chicago, ready or not here I come! This girl is going to amuse you a good deal more I’m afraid. Like, when I accidently buy black girl hair products instead of white girl (they’re just not the same, fyi!)

Day two, I spent the majority of my time unpacking and organizing. For lunch Grandpa & I went out for Happy Hour at Steak & Shake for ½ off shakes (I’m going to like this place!). But that evening I found myself in potentially one of my favorite situations to date. My grandfather has somehow found himself in the midst of a Civil War history club comprised, mostly, of retired teachers and extremely intelligent war buffs. The club, or roundtable as they call themselves, meets once a month and invites a particular speaker or reenactor to come and present for an hour or so. The lecture is then followed by coffee & dessert.  Not knowing exactly what I was headed for, I had to smile when I stepped into the reserved hall of a homey Buffet restaurant. The tables had been removed and the chairs rearranged to face the fireplace at the front of the room next to the entrance. As we stepped through the door, my grandfather was warmly greeted by several older gentlemen who were selling raffle tickets; not only were Grandpa’s friends part of this thing but they were in charge! Introductions were exchanged then we found our seats. As we squeezed our way to the back of the room, I realized that I was, by far, the youngest one in the room: the next youngest was the speaker who was probably in his late 30’s, while everyone else was no younger than 60.  I took a seat next to a very neatly and professionally dressed man in his early 70’s who I later learned was named Bruce. I asked him if anyone were sitting in the seat I was about to take, and he responded with, “No, sit down. You can sit there. You can do whatever you want.” The next thing he did was to hail a man standing in front about to sit down. “Where’d you get that?” Bruce asked, pointing to the man’s white sweatshirt with maps of the Civil War screen printed all over it – clearly a tacky purchase from Crackle Barrel or some “as seen on TV” magazine. “That’s really SHARP!”Bruce declared emphatically. It was all I could do not to laugh out loud. I thought he was joking at first, but…nope! He defiantly loved the sweatshirt as gathered by the 5 minutes of compliments he fired at the man wearing it! Too funny! Well, the rest of the night was similarly, subtly humorous: from the overwhelming amount of information fired off by the speaker, my complete lack of belonging, my grandpa’s winning twice at the raffle (I was summoned to choose his prizes from among the numerous Civil War books and magazines since he doesn't often read), and the excitement of the people at seeing young blood amongst them! I can’t wait for the next meeting!

Well, friends, I’ll stop now or you’ll never bother opening another email from me for fear that your life will again be wasted (rightly so). But let me end with this, …“is anything too hard for the Lord?”  Some people question my sanity or the probability of my crazy dreams coming true. What can a yooper girl do in the big city? How can I possibly make a difference in the world? But don’t forget: His strength is made perfect in weakness! And I don’t know about you, but this life is short and we've only got one shot. So “go big or go home”! “In the end, all you really own is your story. I’m just trying to live a good one” for the glory of God!

Pray for me, friends! I’ll do the same for you, knowing that my Father has your best in mind!

~Corrie~