Month: May 2023

We’ve returned from a journey to Istanbul, and traveling to another great, distant city reminded me of a trip Jeff and I took, over twenty years ago, now.

My husband and I had finally made it to Paris. “Finally,” because I suppose I’d always wanted to see Paris, one more of the great cities of the world. We had had one trip to Paris cancelled at the last moment when my sister’s partner died unexpectedly in Hawaii, and so, at the very last minute, we changed our plans to be present to her as she took care of the details of his death. We had a small, meaningful memorial with a small group of his friends on his little boat in a harbor in Pearl City. During our few days there, we had lunch with the father of our nephews, my sister’s ex-husband, and I turned to Jeff at one moment and said: “we’ll always have Paris.” Indeed.

A few months later, we made the trip.

We stayed at a lovely old hotel with our room a walk up on the third floor, its windows overlooking the Seine across the way. We arrived so tired from our always-busy lives that we almost slept through the first full day! The front desk called us to ask that the maid be allowed to clean a bit in our room, so we dressed and made our way down the stairs and into the waiting city – Paris!

I’ve always loved cities. I expect I’ve always loved cities because I grew up in the city, and feel comfortable with cities. I have good sense about what places are safe – and those that are not. I love the country, of course, but my first love is city life.

The next morning, I was ready to go out from our hotel before Jeff, and so, we agreed to meet at a cafe on the corner, a short walk from our hotel. I walked to the cafe, ordered a latte and croissant, and sat there, enjoying the morning, star-struck in a way: “here I am, in Paris!”

After a few minutes, I got up to walk along the Seine. I watched as vendors set up their booths, walking toward Notre Dame, in the distance. I walked and walked, and I found my way to a little known museum dedicated to those who lost their lives in the Holocaust. As I left the site, I looked over at Notre Dame, got my bearings, and walked slowly back to the hotel. Before I arrived at the hotel, I saw Jeff in the distance. He saw me and walked toward me, appearing frantic. “Where were you???” he asked. “I was walking.”

Later, he told me that he had been beside himself with worry! He’d involved the front desk clerk that I was not to be found at the cafe where we’d agreed to meet, and he enlisted the clerk to help him. The clerk had assured him – again and again – that I was okay. This was a Jeff I did not know well – he’s by far the calmer of the two of us. What he couldn’t understand was that I hadn’t kept the date.

When we ended our trip with a dinner a few days later, we offered our simple, repetitive prayer at dinner, remembering the ups and downs of this trip. We end every trip this way, reflecting on what comes to mind, what stands out in memory. With each memory comes the response: “And God was with you.” Jeff mentioned the exciting morning he’d had, waiting on the street for me to keep our date for our first morning in Paris. I began to laugh, to giggle. I didn’t understand.

After all, I’d simply been enjoying the morning in Paris! And here we were – the trip almost ending!

I expect I could find those little blue gym shorts on an Amazon search, if I wanted a set! Those little blue gym shorts marked my passage into Junior High and High School. And they were a sign of that time in history – my personal history and in the history of schools.

I wasn’t good at gym, but I don’t remember having a sense of dread about gym, either. That’s good. I was shy and had a few good friends – which holds true in my life even now.

I loved the classes, I loved learning, and that is an attribute I carry with me today. My mother loved to say: “you learn something new every day -” a bit of wisdom she held on to tightly. Although uneducated, her people were inquisitive, and learning satisfied that quality, it seems.

But I’ve lost my train of thought: little blue gym shorts. Shy, I hated having to change clothes in the locker room, but here I am, remembering – so I survived the trials a public education granted me. Now, when I read about the learning curve of an Olympic contender, particularly a woman, I notice how her life was shaped by being an athlete even from childhood. I am not an athlete. I was not an athlete.

But what did the athletic girls do in the years when I was in school, graduating from high school in 1967? Women in sports had to pass through a lot of hurtles, including academics. I was good at the academics, in fact, academics came easy to me. So the hour of gym class every few days was a blip on my screen of uncomfortable times. I did it. I made it through.

I’ve checked Amazon – no luck on the blue gym suits. Now, it seems as if girls get suited up in leotards. But I can find a set of “little blue gym shorts” on a google search. Vintage! The gym sets are vintage! And, I expect, so am I.

I’ve written about the trip I took to New York City with my friend Vicki, while I was a student at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee.  Big cities have always been a joy for me to navigate, even now, in my elder years, when I travel.

Some of the fondest memories I have of my earlier life involve the trips I took to Chicago while I was an employee of the Social Security Administration in the 1970’s.  All of the trips – there were many – hang together in my mind and memory, as if one.  

I worked as a Claims Representative and then a Field Representative at Social Security offices in Green Bay, Milwaukee, and Waukesha, Wisconsin, starting in 1973 and until I was offered the position of Consumer Affairs Officer for the Food and Drug Administration in downtown Milwaukee in the fall of 1980.  Unknown to most folks, at that time the professional education offered by the government for staff was excellent.  And so I had the privilege to take executive level courses in various fields, including public relations and communications.  Doing so involved my spending a week at a time in the Loop in Chicago.

I’d board the train in Milwaukee and arrive in the Loop after 90 minutes.  From the train station, I’d walk to my hotel – my reservation waiting for me – at the Palmer House in downtown Chicago.  After checking in for the evening, I’d take myself out to dinner at a nice downtown restaurant.  Being on my own, traveling alone, and eating at a restaurant alone might have been a stretch for me at the beginning, but I found that I liked the freedom of having my own time.

In the morning, I’d arrive at the government offices, a short distance from the Palmer House, and begin the class, which lasted for five days.  In the class, I had new friends and acquaintances, and after the first morning, I had companions to explore the city during lunch break and in the evenings.  

On one trip, I had my hair cut at the Vidal Sassoon studio in the Loop, the year that his famous bob cut was all the rage.  On another trip, I shared the elevator in the hotel with a comedian who was famous at the time.  As I walked to the restaurant in the hotel one evening, I saw Ella Fitzgerald and her entourage as they navigated getting her safely checked in to the Palmer House.  

As the week ended, I’d walk back to Union Station to meet my good friend Sue – who passed many years ago – for a cocktail at the station before I boarded the train that took me back to Milwaukee, to my regular life.

A theme in my life seems to be that my life has expanded as I’ve grown older.  As a young person, my life expanded as I met new people and new experiences, going places that I’d heard others talk about, but never imagined for myself.  Maybe my mother’s imagination – her dreams for me – held those places.  I know she was proud of my expanding world.  As for me, I’m grateful.  

“Chicago (My Kind of Town)”, Fred Fisher, lyrics