City Girl Confessions: Beachfront Views in Blizzard Weather

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When the air is frigid, the ground snowy, and the forecast uncertain, perhaps it’s time to head to the beach. As in our beach. Glencoe Beach. The frozen, grayed-over Glencoe beachfront. Yes, I’m being serious. 

Recently, my father-in-law picked up my daughter from school and they decided to go on an adventure. January adventures in the Midwest are not exactly resplendent but hey, I give them credit for optimism. So off they went…and somehow, they ended up standing in snow-covered sand staring out at Lake Michigan. Naturally, there wasn’t another soul around (did I mention the freezing weather?!).

It was at this time that I received a text alert with a photo of them. Two smiley faces, frozen in expression, but excitement in their eyes. “We’re the very first people at the beach this season!”

It made me chuckle. But then it also gave me a moment of contemplation. It must feel stirring to be so small next to something so vast. This is the kind of unnerving curiosity that comes with walking alone in an empty shopping mall or standing atop a mountain after a long hike. I am so big yet I am so little. I am never just one thing. 

Also, I’ll confess: I think they enjoyed the quiet, reflective moments by the water. Life is very loud and hectic sometimes. Preschools, grocery stores, dog walking, morning traffic, sports games, concerts, and travel seem to swallow up our schedules (and raise the noise level in our home). It probably felt refreshing to stand somewhere and just be.

This adventure reminded me of something unusual my family did last summer: we traveled to Sun Valley, Idaho in June. Right as the weather in the Midwest was warming up, we flew to the mountains…right back into 30-degree weather. There was a unique day in which we took a gondola up to the mountain top and snowflakes swirled all around. Later that same day, we went swimming- in an outdoor pool. As we swam and splashed around, the snow continued to fall. There was nothing to do but smile and laugh at the juxtaposition. 

I like the notion of seizing an opportunity for adventure, and I think it’s important to check in every now and then. I have no doubt that as they stood on the shoreline, my father-in-law and daughter imagined the exciting days to come. They looked out at the lake and thought of warm sand, rhythmic waves, and beams of sun. Just imagining what could be, what will be…was probably enough to propel them forward in these bleary winter days.

As the months turn over and seasons persist, may we not be afraid of beachfront views, even in blizzard-like weather. From this, we remember that we are so little, we are so big. We are never just one thing.

City Girl Confessions is my recurring column in The Glencoe Anchor.

City Girl Confessions: Sneaking in Those City Escapes

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City Girl Confessions is my recurring column via The Glencoe Anchor.

Life zooms by from the window seat of the Metra. It’s a blur of colors, textures, and weather. Time seems to suspend as well. Heading south into Chicago brings me back into my past, back into the roots from which this very column was born. 

It’s a pleasant experience, though. Sometimes there are hints of longing or bittersweet memories. I feel it in seeing the way retail has flipped, the way that condo buildings seem to have sprouted from nowhere. 

I walked through an old neighborhood haunt and was shocked to see a favorite long-term grocer had closed. I was bummed- they had the best bakery bread there. Down the block there was a fully remodeled grocery chain. It’s enormous panes of glass shimmered like a skyscraper.

And yet…this was not some beautiful, poignant moment. Sheets of a snowy-slushy mess were pouring from the sky. Sidewalks and curbs bore inches of freezing water that sloshed into waves any time a cab zoomed by. The monstrous wind seemed to turn everything horizontal. The sky was an angry gray that muddled the views of Lake Michigan. It was smack in the middle of Spring and a snowstorm was taking over Chicago during my visit. It was not a pleasant experience.

The occasion for the city jaunt: a celebratory dinner for my brother and sister-in-law, who are moving across the country for the summer. Kind of like studying abroad, but for business reasons. We made a fancy dinner reservation at the end of April, believing that to be ‘safe.’ Maybe it would be one of those perfect 70 degree days and we could walk around for a pre-dinner drink in the area. Maybe we could seek out a rooftop deck to stare at the architectural marvels of the city. Maybe we would be laughably wrong in all of these assumptions. 

Yet, the dinner went on as planned. The laughter went on. Our lives went on. No matter how frantic things seemed, talking through it made us feel better. I imagine that when my brother and sister-in-law truly leave, and we feel the heaviness of their absence, we will recall this snowy Spring night and grin. We will remember that we somehow made it work. 

Our ride home was an Uber. ‘Train in, Uber out’ seems to be a method that works well for our urban visits. As we cruised along the highway, I stared out the window, watching life zoom by. It was a blur of colors, textures, and weather too wild to be believed. Time seemed to suspend as well. I thought about the changes that lay ahead. I thought about the way things used to be. Outside, the snow accumulated, blanketing the green grass in endless white. 

We slowly pulled into Glencoe, back into familiarity, back into the present. The snow had finally ceased. The sky was now clear. We were home.