441 West Oakdale, Chicago, Illinois 60657. I can’t remember the month. I woke up and dressed to go to Johnson, Cusack and Bell. I lived on the first floor of the highrise now. I had grabbed the one bedroom when I heard it came available. I needed room to grow. Me and pumpkin were freezing in our studio apartment. Pumpkin would wrap around my head to keep me warm. The heat was on, but with ceiling to floor windows and sliding glass doors overlooking the balcony, it’s impossible to warm up. This is Chicago. I moved to the first floor one bedroom. There was no balcony.
My brand new Dodge was feet outside my door on my first floor uncovered parking space. I had to get to work.
Lord have mercy. I lived through the coldest day in Chicago. My highrise was feet from Sheridan Road. To get downtown to work was straight through Lincoln Park onto Michigan Avenue. I lived one block off Lake Michigan. The lake was completely frozen.
Thiswasanimportantday.
I had dressed to the tea, perfectly, precisely, impeccably.
Then low and behold, my car lock was frozen. I didn’t panic. I moved. I skated. I slid down the 100 foot inclined parking lot entrance. I slid in my stiletto heels through ice and snow fifty, sixty, a hundred feet down the slope to the sidewalk and headed right toward the lake.
I remember exactly what I was wearing. My fur wrap was draped over my multi-colored, silk hand-painted pleated skirt and my emerald green silk double-breasted blazer with my thick fuchsia belt.
I skated every step to Sheridan Road in my stiletto heels, in ice and foot high snow to Sheridan Road. The 151 bus stop. No buses were coming. It was 80 below zero windshield, winds freezing my blood and my bones, winds and snow so cold swirling me into survival mode, panic.
No buses were coming. Lord have mercy. I slid and stumbled Lord. 50 people are huddled inside a tiny bus stop stand. I stood for a long while then I started walking the two block toward the bus stop at Lincoln Park. I couldn’t stand it. I skated across the street to the church and stood. I’m frozen.
The 151 Sheridan Road buses all come at once. Five of them. We’ve been waiting in 80 below zero.
We can’t see a thing outside the bus. The windows are frozen. I grab onto the bars above the seats. Everything is frozen. My hair is frozen. I looked down at my feet.
My stiletto heels.
They haven’t been touched.
I keep walking.
I LOVE CHICAGO.