Turkey Day

Since I decided to stay in Chicago for Thanksgiving, I thought I should try to make the most of the day and do some festive things before joining friends for dinner in the evening. I decided to make my way downtown to see the State Street Thanksgiving Day Parade. The temperature this morning was in the teens, so I put on lots of layers in an attempt to stay warm. I even wore my supposedly wind-proof hood to keep my ears, head and face warm.

Because the trains were on holiday schedule, I decided to give myself half an hour to get downtown although it should only take about 10 minutes. I got to the Jackson St. train station at about 8:15, and walked south to the intersection of Van Buren and State to watch the spectacle unfold. In front of me, a half-inflated Miss Piggy balloon was being taken care of by her many handlers. I could hear bands warming up a couple of blocks south where the parade began.

The parade finally started at 8:30, right on time, and I watched it for about half an hour. As parades go, it was nice, though a little smaller than I might have expected for a parade in a city this large.

By 9:00, my feet were so cold that I could no longer feel them, and I was afraid my fingers were entering the early stages of frostbite. I went stomped south down State Street to the train station, south to see more of the parade and stomping in an attempt to get blood flowing into my feet again.

I got home, ate a little breakfast and then drove to the Hyde Park/Kenwood Interfaith Council's Thanksgiving Day service at Rockefeller Chapel. It was a lovely service, with readings and inspirational messages from many different faith backgrounds. Perhaps the most beautiful moment was when a young Muslim man chanted verses from the Koran before they were read (in English) by a young Muslim woman. The chant was exquisite, lovely and full of passion. It was a great way to celebrate Thanksgiving.

On this Thanksgiving Day, I'm very thankful that I have a job, a warm place to sleep, and plenty of food to eat. I'm thankful that my family are safe and sound, and that I have friends both near and far.

Tonight, I will eat turkey and sweet potatoes and stuffing and mashed potatoes. Tomorrow I will shop and decorate. It's truly a great holiday.

To the End of Dreams

Tonight was the last of Chicago Chamber Choir's fall concert series entitled "Birds and Dreams and Flying Machines." It was a good program, and we performed it reasonably well.

I'm just not satisfied.

I don't mean I'm not satisfied with our performance, necessarily. I just feel like we didn't move the music to the "next level." Most of this is, of course, the consequence of being my own worst critic. But I feel like the audience response was less than it should have been based on the works we performed.

Our next concert series is Carols by Candlelight, December 17 and 18th. As the name suggests, these concerts will be mostly Christmas carols and some of the works we recorded this summer on our latest CD.

I am probably just in a "blah" state overall, but I'm particularly "blah" about music right now. I enjoy singing, and I am very fond of both my church choir and CCC. But I'm just not feeling the muse right now. Hopefully Christmas music will snap me out of the doldrums -- it usually does.

Winter Time is Here Again

Cold weather has arrived in Chicago.

I left my house today in a leather coat and flannel shirt. I am an idiot. It was so cold by the time I left work tonight that I thought my jowls would freeze and drop from my face. I don't think this would have been a good look for me. As much as I like my high cheekbones, I prefer them covered with flesh and skin.

There was also snowfall all day today, mostly very light and wimpy snow, small dry flakes with no hope of maintaining their integrity once they hit the relatively warm ground. All the weather forecasts I saw leading up to today pronounced that there would be no accumulation of snow.

I walked to the bus stop at around 8:00, the ambient temperature about 20 degrees, wind gusting up to 30 mph. The snow picked up considerably in the 6 minutes or so that it takes me to walk from my building to the bus stop. As I stood waiting for the bus, I noticed that snow was moving in rivulets along the street in front of me, slithering like icy snakes under the power of the gusting wind. Watching the playful, rhythmic movement of the snow drifts was a pleasant diversion from the frostbite setting in on my face.

The wind and snow picked up. The serpentine snows grew into larger, fatter snakes. And then the damnedest thing happened.

The snow began to accumulate.

In no more than five minutes, the completely clear road, grass, and sidewalk began accumulating light, dry snow. The grass went from verdant green to frosted. Snow, still blowing down the street, began to pile up in the uneven spaces of the asphalt. The cracks of the sidewalk became white with snow, as did the edges of the manhole covers. And it didn't show signs of stopping.

The bus finally came, and eventually the train. When I got out 30 blocks north and 12 blocks west at the Chinatown station, the snow had nearly stopped, although there was similar accumulation on the streets and grassy areas in my neighborhood.

Suffice it to say, winter is here. It may not have a firm grasp yet, but it's closer than any of us dare think. And I think it's going to be a bitch.

Red Line Renovations

As part of the Chicago Transit Authority's Red Line Renovation project, they are performing work at the Garfield train station. This is the station to which I take the train every weekday morning to get to work at the University of Chicago.

Since late spring or early summer (I honestly just can't remember which) the train station has been under renovation. From the CTA website, here's everything that is supposed to be done in this renovation:

- replace one escalator and platform canopy
- install new floors, lighting and CA Kiosk
- improve bus connection
- repair pedestrian bridge
- add canopy

So far, this is what has been accomplished:

-new floors have been installed on the platform only
-the panels have been removed from the platform canopy
-the escalator has been systematically dismantled
-the old staircase has been boarded up
-a new, wooden staircase has been unveiled suspiciously close to the area where the escalator used to be

For at least four months of work, I'm not really all that impressed. Of course, seeing workers (1) on the work site and (2) actually working is a pretty rare occurrence. At this rate, I expect that, all winter long, there will be no cover over the platform. That should be really interesting once the snowstorms start. It's ridiculous to expect people to wait on a platform for a train when it's -20 degrees and snowing without providing any refuge from the snow that's falling. It's also ridiculous to expect people to drudge through a foot of snow on a train platform. Ridiculous at best, limb-severing terror at worst.

And the CTA wonders why it's losing ridership?

I don't know what the reasons are that so little work has been done in this period of time. Notwithstanding those reasons, which I'm sure would just break your heart, the current state of affairs at the Garfield station is abysmal. Sadly, the 47th Street station is no better, and in fact may be worse. I can only assume that other stations along the southern branch of the Red Line undergoing renovations (63rd, 69th, 75th and 87th Streets) are similarly ill-equipped to handle the onslaught of winter, which apparently is breezing through town on a house-hunting tour tomorrow before taking up
permanent residence in about a month.

CTA riders deserve better. I plan on making my voice heard by contacting CTA. I hope you will too.

Chicago Chamber Choir CDs

Chicago Chamber Choir's latest CD, "I Heard the Bells: A Chicago Chamber Choir Christmas," is now available! It's $15 plus $2 shipping. To order, email me or send an email to info@chicagochamberchoir.org.

I haven't heard it yet, but I'm sure it's outstanding! (Not that I have even a hint of bias . . .)

You can also pick up a copy of the CD at our upcoming concert at St. Paul UCC in Lincoln Park, Friday 18 November @ 7:30. Tickets are available at tickets@chicagochamberchoir.org.

Dio Con -- Day 2

Today was a wonderful day at convention! None of the anti-gay resolutions passed, and were actually voted down pretty handily. The nearly universal theme on the floor was that the Diocese of Chicago is unwilling to place unity (with the Anglican Communion) above justice. Several straight persons, both clergy and laity, spoke against the various resolutions. Only a couple of people, other than the sponsors of the resolutions, spoke in favor of them.

I was proud to be a member of the Church today.

Most of the other resolutions were passed by voice vote, although a couple were voted down. But good work was done, and I was pleased to have played even a very small part.

Dio Con -- Day 1

Today was the first session of the 167th Annual Convention of the Episcopal Diocese of Chicago in lovely downtown Arlington Heights, IL. (Okay, it was in the Sheraton near the interstate, but that's not as romantic, is it?) I am one of the lay delegates from my parish, meaning I get to attend and actually vote on resolutions brought to the convention floor. This is a big change from when I was a delegate to convention in the Diocese of Tennessee, where my parish got only voice at convention and no vote. So, today and tomorrow will consist of news bits and reflections on the goings on at convention.

The only voting today was for representatives to various councils and committees of the diocese. Many of these races were uncontested, so it was a shoe-in for the people on the ballot. I didn't hear if any of the contested races was decided today; if they weren't, there will be a second ballot tomorrow morning that I will miss. By voice vote we approved several appointments by +Bishop Persell.

The interesting business today was the debating of resolutions to be presented tomorrow on the convention floor. Most of the resolutions are pretty tame, but a couple were either potentially or definitively anti-GLBT.

Over about an hour and a half, we debated these resolutions, most of which attempted to state the mind of the diocese regarding the Windsor Report. For those of you not familiar with the Report, here's the Reader's Digest synopsis:

The Episcopal Church (USA) and the Anglican Church of Canada, constituent members of the Worldwide Anglican Communion, were declared to be naughty because these rogue churches consecrated an openly gay man in partnership with another man (also openly gay, kinda goes without saying) as Bishop of New Hampshire and authorized the writing and adoption of rites for blessing same-sex unions, respectively. Even though these actions were taken in full compliance with the constitution and canons of the respective churches, others in the Anglican Communion (read: ultra-conservative priests and bishops from Africa and Asia) feel these actions were disrespectful towards them. Brouhaha ensued, committees had to be commissioned, they had to meet and write a document to justify the thousands of dollars spent assembling and flying the members all over the world, and what we got was the Windsor Report. Now everyone in Anglican Christendom has to pass some sort of resolution saying that we're sorry and we've wept and flogged ourselves over being inclusive and respecting our GLBT brothers and sisters.

(A much better synopsis of the Windsor Report can be found here.)

After much spirited, but largely collegial, debate, I think the worst resolution will fail to pass. I think an alternative resolution that would call for a moratorium on consecrating another openly GLBT bishop before 2009 (the year the national Episcopal Church will meet for its 76th General Convention) may have a shot, but I hope it fails too. I vehemently oppose any moratorium on ordaining GLBT persons to any level of ministry, from the diaconate to the episcopate. These measures directly injure GLBT persons in the Episcopal Church, and as such I cannot and will not support them in any way.

There was a great moment in convention today, though. During +Bishop Persell's address to convention, he mentioned husbands and wives and partners in the same breath. Twice. I literally cried. To see a sitting bishop in the Episcopal Church talk about GLBT people in such a positive, life-affirming way was a truly miraculous moment for me. This is not something that my former bishop in Tennessee would ever, or will ever, do.

I also attended a very informative educational session this morning regarding outreach. As I hope to focus more on outreach at my parish, I was very energized and motivated having left this session. I hope in the near future to work on expanding outreach at St. Paul and the Redeemer.

I'll give an update on the outcome of the resolutions tomorrow. Pray for the Diocese of Chicago!

Holy Smoke

Earlier today I was standing in the narthex of my church facing east into the sanctuary. I was wearing an alb as I was the thurifer for the service that would begin in about 15 minutes.

Just inside the glass doors to the sanctuary sits the baptismal font. Warm water had just been poured into the fount because a baptism was occurring at the upcoming service. Outside it was cool, probably around 50 degrees, and the wind was coming in through the open doorway. As the cool wind drifted across the surface of the warm water in the baptismal font, wisps of water vapor rose and danced across the water. Seeing this play between the water and the air, I smiled.

Why did I smile? Mainly because the sight of vapor lifting off of the water reminds me of a misconception I harbored when I was younger. In the evening, often after a summer afternoon shower, large columns of water vapor and dust would reach from the ground up to the clouds in the sky. Some people would have called these sunbeams, I suppose. As a child, I thought what I was seeing was the souls of departed folks being carried into heaven. To this day, whenever I see such a phenomenon in the sky, or see great amounts of water vapor evaporating into the ether, such as over Lake Michigan in the early light of day, I think back to my boyhood. I also think of my friends and relatives who have departed this life and who, I hope, have ascended on one of those sunbeams into the Kingdom of God.

It occurs to me now that the wind moving across the water in the baptismal font could also symbolize the movement of the Holy Spirit over the waters of creation. The priest would recall that event in the text of the Baptismal Prayer in the upcoming service. That's one of my favorite prayers in the Book of Common Prayer, and I look forward to baptisms mainly because I know I'll get to hear the beautiful text of that prayer.

And then, again, I will smile.

Community

As I was walking to the gym tonight, I passed by one of the dormitories on the UofC campus. It's been unusually warm the past couple of days for November in Chicago, approaching (and surpassing) 70 degrees. Consequently, some people in the dorms had opened their windows to allow a little breeze to move through.

Through one open window, I saw the usual trappings of a dormitory room -- a clock radio, a computer, a compact stereo. There was a young man leaning in the doorway of a room across the hall from the one with the open window through which I was looking. It wasn't my intention to be a Peeping Tom, or to invade the privacy of these young people. It was just an irresistible opportunity to experience a reminder of my own days of living in a dorm.

When I was in college, I thought dormitory life was miserable. Loud music played at all hours. Fire alarms were pulled by miscreants every Friday night preceding a Saturday morning Chem exam, sometimes more often. There was no air conditioning in my dormitory, which meant that our rooms were devastatingly hot in the merciless North Carolina summer heat. And one bathroom shared by eight men? It was like living in the men's locker room.

Dorm life, for all of its inconveniences, was a fantastic experiment in building community. In my suite, only my roommate and myself had chosen each other, everyone else had been put together by random chance. The eight of us spanned the gamut in terms of religion, political beliefs, economic status, and life experience. We watched movies together, fought with each other, sprayed each other with shaving cream, consoled each other in hard times, and partied when we were ready to go nuts from the pressures of studying and working.

I remember all of my suitemates. Ryan and Chris lived across the hall. They both dated my best friend, Amy (concurrently, not simultaneously). Chris was one of the few fundamentalist Christians with whom I felt any sympatico. Ryan was a gentle soul who broke my heart when he broke up with Amy. I doubt I ever really forgave him for that, a sin most grievous because I had no right to harbor any grudge for that action. Brent, who lived next door, was a die-hard conservative who used to argue politics with me. I once offered to buy him an English-to-English dictionary when he complained that I used "fancy words" in my arguments because I had no other basis to justify my positions. I think he's a veterinarian now. His roommate, Richard, was an odd boy from West Virginia. I heard that Richard had become mentally unstable, perhaps he even attempted suicide. I don't know what became of him, but I fear it was nothing good. Ray, who lived diagonally across from me, was one of the kindest men I ever knew. He was also the best looking man I'd ever seen naked. (He still rates in the top ten.) His roommate, Verne, was a smart guy, from privilege, who once offered me some advice on improving my enjoyment of performing cunnilingus involving Astropop lollipops. (I won't divulge further information, but I think you can probably connect the dots.) Needless to say, that advice was wasted on me.

The only one of my suitemates with whom I maintain contact now is my old roommate, P.J. We see each other at least once a year, often with our friend David, one of my closest friends from college. The three of us went to the Grand Canyon last year to celebrate (belatedly) our 30th birthdays. It was a fantastic trip.

I remember dormitory life with fondness, and see it through my mind's eye, now tempered by years of living in "the real world." I certainly don't miss dormitory life enough to go back to living that way, but seeing it from the outside evoked some strong memories and a sense of romantic nostalgia. Even though I don't maintain contact with my old suitemates, I miss those days of camaraderie. I hope that they are all safe tonight, happy and loved. Each of them deserves that much.

Kitty Trauma

I took my cat, Jackson, for his yearly physical and vaccinations today. Jackson hates going to the vet the way most people hate going to an IRS audit. Actually, Jackson may hate the vet worse than that.

Jackson understands that when the collapsible kitty carrier is retrieved from underneath my bed, where it stands idle approximately 362 days out of the year, bad things will quickly ensue. It will probably involve a ride in the car, another thing Jackson just hates and has always hated, even before he came to hate the vet so passionately.

So it was that we had a typical morning of going to the vet. I got the kitty carrier out from under the bed and assembled it while Jackson was elsewhere in my apartment. I then went on a hunt for Jackson, and found him perched on his kitty condo looking out the window, observing the morning's comings and goings. He heard my footfalls and turned towards me. I looked at him, and he at me. I walked towards him. He jumped down and tried to run. Jackson is not a dumb cat. He reads my emotions and facial expressions better than a fortune teller at a sideshow. He knew that I was coming after him for something. and whatever purpose I held it was not going to be to his liking. Fortunately, Jackson is not a very limber or agile cat, so catching him is not usually a problem. And so it passed this morning that I grabbed him handily and walked him back to my bed, whereupon sat the dreaded collapsible kitty carrier.

There are two ways to get a cat into a pet carrier. The first is to entice the cat into the carrier with treats, toys, gentle words of praise, food, anything that will appeal to the cat's desires to eat, play and be loved. In this way, the carrier becomes a safe haven, a little chamber wherein kitty can feel safe, not so much closed in but set apart from the world, free to enjoy his or her favorite things.

The second way is to push the cat bodily into the carrier through the gate on the top of the carrier, holding him/her with one hand and maneuvering kitty's paws and legs into the opening of the carrier with the other hand. Once the front paws and legs are in, one then must push down with nearly as much force as one can muster to get the head in, and the rest of the cat's body, limp from resisting, will soon follow.

Can you guess which method I used?

This was my first visit to a veterinarian's office in Chicago. This particular office was recommended by a colleague, someone who owns a dog and is owned by two cats. I was pleased with the vet, a lovely, seemingly ambitious professional woman who, as the framed copies of articles on her wall attest, is the first African American to open her own veterinary practice in Chicago in 20 years. She seemed very knowledgeable and was quite professional in her demeanor.

Jackson hated her instantly. This clinched it -- she must be good.

Unfortunately, Jackson has gained over a pound in the past year despite being on light kitty food with tightly regulated feedings. Coupled with his recent increased water intake and desire for more food than I am willing to feed him, the vet and I think he may be heading towards diabetes, a none too rare disease in kitties. This makes me unhappy, not only because I'm worried about the ill effects on his health, but also because this means that Jackson will suddenly become a much more expensive kitty to take care of.

First and foremost in the care of nearly any animal is feeding, not only what is fed but how often and in what quantity. My new veterinarian recommends a Purina diabetes formula dry food. On the web, I've found a couple of articles by vets advocating wet food because of the lower carbohydrate content versus dry food. Either way, my once every 3 months trips to buy a bag of Science Diet Light Hairball formula (which I just bought this weekend, of course) will soon be a distant memory. I seem to be faced with the choice of buying this premium Purina food at what I am sure will be a hefty cost, or switching Jackson to wet food, something he has never EVER had before.

I'm not sure how I'm going to handle this kitty health dilemma yet, but I do think some more research is in store. I am trained to seek out new knowledge, so I guess it's time I put my fancy degree to some use!

(Note to NIH reviewers out there -- this is a joke; I of course use my advanced degree [that you so graciously paid for] every day in the continuing pursuit of new knowledge! Yea, science!)