Cityscape: Thanksgiving

Night Sketches.

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The Botanical Gardens: The Decline.

While my life is consumed by medicine and school work, the other part is consumed in transition and expansion. I recently treated myself to a visit to the Chicago Botanical Gardens, where I found and entire landscape undergoing the same. 

Tourists flock to an amazing display and manicured feat of art when they visit the gardens during the summer. Crowds of brides and grooms waddle through exotic flowers, bushes and Japanese sculptures to look their best amongst natural beauty. After finally surviving Finals week in school, and missing out on historically warm weather that coincidentally fell on those specific testing days, I decided that my first hours of freedom would be spent in the Botanical Gardens with my gear. Murphy’s Law fell in my lap, and the temperatures dropped 30 degrees, and snow was predicted. I hopped the Metra, and arrived at the proper train station- dismayed at the fact that the usual trolly wasn’t running transportation today. 

I walked the 2 miles necessary to get there- and braved the chilly breeze that swirled leaves around my scarf and hat. I was determined. Eventually, with the entrance just barely on the horizon, I felt the first rain drops nick my cheeks, and I knew this was not going to be working according to my plan- something Ive had to get used to a lot recently. Sheets of rain fell only minutes later as I took my first steps inside the Welcome Center, and I warmed my hands with a hot cup of coffee. Memories of my past visit there sat down with me, and I greeted them with a nod, knowing that they too wanted company and some warmth from the cup. Without many words to say , we all got up together after a spell, bundled up, and  walked into the brisk chill of the air- now rainless, but only temporarily.

What I found was gardens upon gardens; damp and in a state of slow but inevitable change. Some flowers were still unseasonally in bloom, others shrunken and hugging the earth they would eventually return to. The once carefully controlled and handcrafted arena of plant arrangements were now returning to a more natural state - one that nature could only control. And it was it's own beauty. I was suddenly aware that  I was the only one in the park with a camera admiring this process of decline and return. There were seas of brown and yellow occasionally spiked with a flare of red and violet. Once majestic plumes of petals now were took on the appearance of over-fired pottery shards, and melted glass.

 I think these shots managed to capture a sketch of what I saw. 

Travel to the City

In my few travels throughout the Chicago and midwestern landcape thus far, Im taken aback by its extremes. This is the America that I have read about.

This is the America that international travelers are both attracted to, and revile in the same breath. The city is an amazing rush of contemporary architecture and history, and every building is a collosal finding. Along the riverway and Lake Michigan, the coast is towering with new geometrical contraptions that house thousands of residents. Layed out in an expansive patch work of sorts, Chicago is a bustling city knit together through small neighborhoods. Every weekend is cause for thousands to flock to various parts of the city simultaneously, and celebrate the sunshine. Gourmet, ethnic and city fast food combine with a heavy dose of roots in Blues, Gospel and contemporary World music to make everyday a celebration.

As a massive architectural and industrial city, it both glistens in the sunlight and growls in the poverty stricken districts. Oceans of Black folk flood the streets from the south, and primped bleach blonde college kids flock from the north. Polish and Spanish practically are the second language, as the immigration is constant; and typical blue collar workers up sport high eastern European cheekbones. This land of extremes seemed to make a patchwork of geography and ethnicity that I hadnt seen before. 

Supersized people walk the streets in supersized clothes - amongst neon signs for fast food takeout. Working in the healthcare industry, I had always been acutely aware of obesity as an up-and-coming problem. However the proportions of this were different. East coasters religiously suck on their syrupy coffee, and shovel pastries and grease laden paddies into their bellies by the handful. But so far, my experience here seemed on a larger epidemic scale. 

 

This is tornado ally. The weather here is extreme and constant. There are NO small rainspells- only violent cataclysmic events. Ominous clouds take on purples and blues hues- blacks and greens- threatening to burst at the seams when wandering above the city. Within the first month, there were several tornado warnings, touchdowns, and lightening storms. I was witness to a Microburst- an extremely focussed weather phenomenon equivalent to a bomb exploding above ground, sending 80 mile-an-hour winds in all directions without warning. I was attending a street crafts fair covering several blocks. One moment the sky was sunny, the next a small breeze picked up, and the following people were running for their lives; pottery shattering, metal scaffolding doubling over, people huddled in corners of buildings to escape flying debris. In its aftermath- the destruction seemed as if I were in Lebanon having survived a bombing raid. People laid in the streets, bleeding, in shock and despair- the fair was an unrecognizable mess of debris. The fire department and ambulances took away many victims, and the fair closed down shortly after. This was my welcoming committee. 

In a visit south of the capital, again I landed in a foreign place. Walmart. TGIFridays, Taco Bell, Cracker Barrel. Diesel stops, Abandoned malls. God. Visiting my fiance in Effingham, IL, was an experience that seemed to further my stereotypes of this vulgar Americanism that unfortunately I was a part of. Surrounded by what seemed like hundreds of miles of corn in every direction- I was at the heart of Middle America. 

My first clues to feeling far and away were that every 10 miles or so, there would be small advertisements for "gunssavelives.com" spread out in cornfields along the interstate. Similarly, about 60 miles out of the city, I seemed to lose contact with all urban radiostations of hiphop and spanish ranchero music. In their place- God became the new channel. 

Arriving into what I understood was 'Effingham', which I thought would be more of a pronounced event- was more similar to pulling off the highway for a bathroom break. Effingham consisted of a supersized truckstop that gradually worked itself into the countryside of cute one level houses, and miles of farmland. Walmart stood in the middle- and like weeds, or a bad rash- around it sprung up dozens of fastfood chains, advertising like adult film shops. Some classier than others. Trucks constantly rumbled in off the highway like great animals as they downshifted into the diesel stations.On the horizon, stood a massive cross some several stories in height, able to be seen for miles around. It providing the beacon of light for those unsaved, and had a similar effect as placing a flag in unclaimed territory. This was God's country. 

Mothers walked their children in the beautiful sunshine along quiet streets. Young greasy haired tattooed teenager's zigzagged through the streets on bicycles, with shirts untucked, and open for the world to see. The local mall was closed down, and the expansive parking lot was abandoned. What was life like here? 

This middle America that I was so foreign to, seemed a perverse distortion of this American identity that I was familiar with. As an outsider, and albeit- as a city slicker- I became acutely aware that much like being ignorant to the world outside this country's borders, I was (somewhat) ignorant to the country within its borders. Effingham seemed a microcosm of this country's problems. The paradoxes and vulgarities were so apparent to me. Could anyone else see them from the inside?

Walmart was an American staple here. The irony that a store the size of a football arena, stacked with imported Chinese goods could bankrupt small family businesses would be the lifeline of so many people. To think that fast food was another- one that created epidemic proportions of obesity, cardiac disease, cancers, diabetes- and breaking our healthcare system- was accepted, needed, and fully integrated into the town. That miles of cornfields surrounding me were being converted to ethanol for the city's SUVs instead of food. That Pro-Gun advertising was fullforce here, when just in the last week the mayor of Chicago requested help from the National Guard due to an uncontrollable rash of gang violence. How did any of this make sense? Im still scratching my head. 

So far the country here is beautiful in all of its shades and extremes. More than anything, I discovered my own roots and beliefs as a foreigner in a foreign land. 

Notes on a Cadaver.

Within the first few weeks of school, I managed to do some of my own personal studying of surgery. 

Never use a can opener and talk on the phone at the same time. 

After laughing in one minute, and screaming in the next, I bundled up my bleeding fingers. Gathering myself, and printing out my health insurance information, I walked down to the main streets and hailed a taxi. It was difficult manipulating the ATM buttons to get cash for the cab without leaving DNA evidence on the floor AND the touchscreen. Red  was oozing through the shirt I used to clamp off the laceration. What unnecessary drama. An eight o’clock visit to the local ER, eleven stitches and three hours later, I tried to sleep for my first Anatomy exam. On the hand. 

Julie: Dusk.

Ben and Amanda

My Big Brother got married in rural Vermont, some 4 hours north of Boston. The setting was beautiful rolling pastures, a camp ground. All the extended family gathered for the hot humid day, and ate well- Kareoke was the name of the game at night. It was great to get out of the city, into the quiet landscape to find family time with people I hadnt seen in WAY too long. Here are a few shots!