I don't pay no Union Dues

This trip started off with a lot of confusion on my part, more sadness and desperation than what I previously thought my own flavor of hell would be like. As tempting as it was, I couldn't quit. My life or my plans. I crawled out of that hell to honor them - my life and my plans. Slowly.

Some tired eyes and a little Tom Petty were due.

My time in Chicago included a long walk to and around Millennium Park where the aptly named Cloud Gate can be found.



And the enormous Crown Fountain walls. And buildings of steel and purpose, yet soft, reflective and magical.



My time involved a Blue’s Bar and a girl named Andrea who showed me a brave face as she carried on with the hand dealt her, without complaint or pity. She had the kind of flawed but strong beauty that turns your head and drops your jaw. In that night, it likely came from her parents and best friend, they who guided her into and out of my life. A passing that shook me. Sometimes you have no idea the answer you’ll get when you ask a simple question. Sometimes you have no idea what you'll face when you step out the door. Or answer the phone.

Chicago included a Detroit fan telling me I had electric blue eyes. Those eyes rolled on cue at that. Whatever.

It included a boat ride on a reverse-flowing river, where architectural words like contextualism, movement and international design standard were used more than once as we motored beneath 24 bridges.



There were meetings and dinners and lunches spent in conference rooms that denied the sun. There were LCD projectors, training sessions at my voice, and a morning where I thought we would never get to where we were supposed to be, because we were driving east then west and even I knew that north was that way, towards Canada.



Some trips take me to myself, some take me to new dreams. They all take me home, slightly changed. Every single thing I saw, every single thing that moved me to a pause, inspired me or sorrowed me, touches me in that way I seek, that way in which I feel connected to the world through what I see and experience when I travel. The way that leaves everything all summed up and hopeful - at least for a moment - and sends me home, where home is at least on return a blend of sunrise colors and twilight sounds.

There are times lately when I think I'm crazy - as in, well, crazy. But I realize that as long as I hang on, then by that alone, I've got a grip. I'm not ready to let go - sometimes it's tempting, but it won't happen. The truth is, while I may not be ready to face tomorrow, I think that, I believe that, ready or not, I can.