Before Sunrise

by Cathy

As if waking up in a subzero tundra of a city isn't bad enough, we in Chicago have to contend with the idiosyncrasies of the sun and its temperamental cycles - namely, refusing to break the day open on a city submerged in negative wind chills and arctic gusts. And when it does decide to grace us with its presence during the winter months, it prefers for us, mere humans, to wake it from its stubborn slumber rather than the other way around - a rather unnatural phenomenon.

Chicago already awakened before winter's sunrise

Instead of feeling the warm light break through my bedroom blinds and gently roll its way up to my face, kiss my cheek and open my eyes, it is nowhere to be found these days. This abandonment of sorts leaves me to my own awakening devices, consisting of a shrill alarm clock, a chilly bedroom and darkness just as evident as when I lay down to sleep. There is absolutely no incentive to wake up on a cold, dark day - especially when heaven comes in the form of a cozy, warm bed.

I realize that many people, my dad included, have been waking up before sunrise regardless of the season, since the beginning of time. They are at the mercy of the hours their jobs command. I remember lamenting as a child to my mother, after hearing the front door of the house close and awakening to see that it was still dark:
"Wow. Dad leaves when it's dark and he comes home when it's dark."
That seemed so wrong to me at the time and not much has changed about the way I feel about it now.


Thankfully, the days have begun to lengthen once more and the sun is gradually creeping out of that seasonal corner it hides in. Until the days grow to be 10 feet tall once more, we will awake, reluctantly, begrudgingly, unnaturally, before sunrise. Our hearts gloomy, our thoughts rooted in that glimmer of hope that comes in the form of spring not too far away.

Dream Boating

by Cathy

It has always beffudled me that as a true Chicago native, born and raised, I have yet to know anyone who owns a boat here. Maybe it's because those people are few and far between, given that owning a boat is an incredible investment to make since Chi-town's temperatures don't allow for boating nine months out of the year.

Now, I've been on my share of boats, ships, catamarans, water taxis, fisherman's boats, speedboats, paddleboats and even kayaks, but not once, ever, have I boated my way out of a Chicago harbor. Until this past weekend.

We were invited to come aboard by the parents of my daughter's classmates. We'll just call the dad (and owner of the boat) Dr. DJ because although he's a dentist by day, he moonlights as a casual DJ, playing gigs at our school functions, on his boat or at his house. In his past life, he must have been Jimmy Buffet although he resembles an older version of Sean Cassidy with long, sun-blonde, streaked hair.

As we prepared for cruising, we made sure all coolers were secured in place, all kids had their vests on and all hands were on deck. Literally. Once out of Diversey harbor's safe walls, Dr. DJ punched it to full throttle ahead. Our hair whipped around us wildly as Lake Shore Drive was zipping by and the skyline became a watery blur. Although the jet skiers were loving the hilly waves we were leaving in our wake, my girls were a little freaked. This was the first time on a speedboat for both of them and after wailing the entire way up the shoreline past Navy Pier, Ari finally settled down enough to go from frantic to clutching scared:

to first captain:

Come aboard. We're expecting you.

After the whirlwind fly-by lake tour, we turned the boat around and headed to where we were going to drop anchor for the afternoon - a quiet, shallow spot further north, off the beaten waters and away from the beachgoers. We tethered our boat to another boat, (a friend of Dr. DJ) and spent the day frolicking San Tropez style. The kids took turns jumping into the water off the bow; they went paddleboarding:

they went kayaking:

And the adults took in the precious last rays of summer, with a drink in our hand, a smile on our lips and a sway in our stance as we danced to tunes courtesy of Dr DJ. Think I'm kidding? Behold:

Yes, that is a mirror ball.

"Wow!" I exclaimed. "This is a serious party boat."
"Aren't all boats party boats?" Dr. DJ yelled back over PitBull's drumbeats and raps.

I guess they are. After all, isn't that what Charo was doing on The Love Boat?

Capten Estubean! Cuchi Cuchi Coo!!

While we might have been one Charo short of a true Love Boat experience, we had no shortage of Captain Stubings, Isaac the bartenders or even Gophers, as we waded back and forth between the boats sharing libations and laughs.

Towards the end of our stay, I sprawled on the spacious, custom-made bow cushions, closed my eyes and imagined I was boating off the coast of France somewhere, and if I squinted hard enough, my imagination turned the skyline's buildings into majestic mountains hugging the waters. I let the waves rock me into their rhythm as I took in nature's wonders above and below me. What a beautiful day to dreamboat.

Ode to August

by Cathy

My love for the month of August is undying; so much so, that I have written August a letter. This originally ran last summer and nothing has changed except for the fact that this year, we don't yet feel the autumn chill in the air, but are still blessed to feel August's warmth linger...hopefully, well into that next month. Enjoy.

  
August, my love.

All year I waited with delight and disdain for your arrival.
You are at once the pinnacle of summer and the seedling of winter's onset.

Thoughts of you are equated to hot summer days at beaches and lakes, steamy summer nights that lead into watching the sunrise, lemonade stands and long-awaited holidays taken 'round the world.

Your carefree nature is like a flash of light in the night. You are a fleeting reprieve that is gone way too quickly.


I will relish the luxury of the sleep you allow and the stress you forbid before the mayhem of the school season begins.

I will yearn for the mystical allure of your full moon, for which countless songs and poems have been written, with its majestic pull that brings young lovers together and draws all of the ocean's creatures closer to the surface of the still waters of seas and oceans, just to witness it.

Your last few days are already laced with a hint of fall. There's a nip in the early morning air and a chill in the evening breeze that wasn't there when you first arrived. By some, the occasional sweater has already been released from their closets, ready to wave you off into bitter abandonment.

I can feel it in the air, August. You are leaving me. No sooner had you swept me into the throes of summer, you are now leaving me to autumn's surrender.

I will miss you August, the yellow month in which I was brought into this world, with your young spirit and blazing sun that warms my skin to the bone. And it will be a long winter's night before I breathe you in again. Stay safe on the other side of the world where you will travel.

Until we meet again.

-Cathy