The Sun at the End of the Road

Gemma gave me this book for Christmas. A slim edition of collages married with short essays & poems reflecting upon, as far as I'm concerned, scenes from a life well lived. Or, if not "well lived" definitely LIVED. And it seems thats what stands out for me. Maybe it's a Chicago traint. Most people don't live well or even live at all... (maybe its easier to not want to?) Maybe I don't even. I think at forty four I'm starting to... 

Liesurely thumbing through the pages this past week, a faint recognition grew in the recesses of my memory of these collages; I have seen them, some of them here and there, over the 20ish years I've been in Chicago. The images, the essays, feel very strongly like the fog of early 2000s Chicago to me. The pre smart phone era, the pre dead internet era... before the bans lifted all the smoke from the bars which then settled over my youth in a haze. I never knew who Tony Fitzpatrick was. Though, I think anyone from Chicago, who was looking (or who has been here by choice for 10+ years) would recognize them.

A personal trait I've been trying to reconcile as I grow older is that I'm immediately anti and uninterested regarding books given to me. Given out of context anyways. Over the years I think I've partially connected this to really just being in love with the journey of discovery that comes with loving books and words... (Oddly I really LOVE giving folks books as gifts. The dichotomy is not lost on me.)

I can claim no ownership to any books, of course, but I do feel a sense of ownership and even attach a sense of myself to books. I know others do this, it is not unique. So when I give a book to a friend, family-member, colleague, acquaintance... it is showing them something of myself. It's an easy way to show "who I am" with a wink. Where I've landed on this whole situation is... when people give me books... its sort of like "this isn't me!".... simply because I have yet to read it so how could it be? Then I have a chip on my shoulder which often colors my reaction to the book, preemptively deciding no this is not for me. NICE TRY [friend or partner or coworker]!!

In this case, pass the knife and fork, I am most happily eating a bit of crow (an apt analogy as a third of the works in the book are about birds). 

It is an easy book to read and enjoy, to pick up and open to any page and find something good. I need more books like this. 

Tony Fitzpatrick passed away on October 11th of this year. He was honest in his writing. He looked for good in people but hated assholes and let you know it. A real Chicagoan gone, joining the ranks of Algren, Turkel, Bellows, Brooks, and Dreiser... and on and on.  I only just met him but I miss him. 

A few favorite passages. 

From Winter Cardinal:

In Tokyo, public greenas and parks are for solitude and reflection; you

won't see a gaggle of assholes throwing frisbees and drinking beer. 

From Chicago Winter Rail:

I try to get out to nature more now, to shut out the noise and find what is good.