1,001 Chicago Afternoons

Chicago Teachers Union President Karen Lewis is not waiting for Superman.

I write this post with nothing but respect and admiration for Karen Lewis. She has proved herself a valiant leader and a powerful voice on behalf of our city’s educators. She is a proven agent of change in a city and in a school district that certainly needs all it can get.

But as I found out Wednesday night on Twitter, she doesn’t know crap about the Incredible Hulk. » Read the rest of this entry «

Sideways lightning knocks from cloud to cloud, clobbering from behind with a shaky internal glow. A streak at times. A rip across the sky, light from darkness, bright power from threatening grays and greens.

A city night looks green to me, as I wait for a storm to start. » Read the rest of this entry «

“911,” she said, before adding what sounded like “wait.”

I waited.

“Hello,” I finally said.

“911,” she repeated with the sad, annoyed tone of someone dealing with an idiot at 1:30 a.m. “What is your emergency?” » Read the rest of this entry «

I passed a game of bags on Saturday. Plywood boards made into boxes, hole in the top to toss beanbags into from a distance. Underhand lobs. The beanbags spun a bit as they arced through the air before coming down with a maraca wham on the plywood. » Read the rest of this entry «

I saw the first one today, loud and chirping outside my new place. Bold and bright with plumage fluffed and unfurled to help attract a mate, he bobbed his head right, then left, then right again on lookout in the afternoon sun.

I moved past quietly, so as not to startle him. He cocked his head at me for a moment as I passed. » Read the rest of this entry «

“Mother Carter, can we sing another song this week?” the puppet asked the old woman.

“When I was a little girl growing up in Michigan, we used to hear the farmers singing to the crops. They would stand at the edge of the field and they would sing to the crops to help them grow. So this next song is called a corn holler,” the woman said before she, the fiddler and the puppet started to sing.

None of this is true. » Read the rest of this entry «

A young man in a long coat and short-brimmed fedora stood on the sunny sidewalk, looking around while writing on a folded sheet of paper he braced with a book. He caught me peering so I made up a lie about being interested in what he was reading. » Read the rest of this entry «

These are the stores with faded, gaudy signs advertising permanent 60-percent-off sales. » Read the rest of this entry «

“He came in, poked his head in the door and said, ‘Can you paint me maggots?’”

“Maggots?”

“Maggots. Another time he came in and said, ‘Am I in New York?’”

“Was he messing with you, or-”

“No, there was something wrong with him,” she cut in, giving the universal swirl-finger for crazy. “He was the most interesting one this month.” » Read the rest of this entry «