When I moved to Chicago in September of 2000, I lived in Printer’s Row in the South Loop. It was everything I thought city living would be like – I was blocks away from Grant Park and Lake Michigan, the huge Harold Washington Library and all the great Loop architecture loomed above every step, and the El rumbled persistently around the neighborhood, punctuating each minute that passed.
A year later I moved to Irving Park, six months later Andersonville, and the next year Ukrainian Village. After that, I moved to a 300 square foot studio apartment in an old building just east of the Hancock Building where I lived alone for the first time. I was living here when I met Andy and we spent the whole summer lying on the sand at Oak Street Beach before heading to Kasey’s Tavern back in Printer’s Row for his bartending shift in the evening. We both got apartments near each other, me in Lincoln Park, him in Wrigleyville. I was only there a short while before we wound up moving in together to his place. Living one block south of Wrigley Field from April until October is kind of like a life experiment – luckily, we survived a Cubs season living in the shadow of the Friendly Confines and headed for a neighborhood a bit more civilized (depends on who you ask). We lived in Bridgeport, just west of Comiske Park and stayed there for five years.
Once I was pregnant with Archer we found ourselves moving into a great two bedroom apartment as far across the city as we could get – East Rogers Park. The first year of our son’s life was magical for many reasons, but our surroundings definitely added to that magic. I mean, if you don’t count the halfway house next door or the weekly gang-related shootings that happened just blocks away, or the time I walked out the back door to a pile of human feces on the sidewalk – “magic” definitely comes to mind.
Rogers Park is a neighborhood that is as diverse as it is unified. In all the neighborhoods I’ve ever lived in, this had the most close-knit community of families and individuals. My favorite thing – during any time of year – was to strap Archer in the stroller and just explore. Every street held a surprise, thanks to the Mile of Murals project that decorated the walls of the El tracks. While I didn’t own a camera at the time, I was lucky to always have my iPhone on me so I could shamelessly take photo after photo of this neighborhood I’d come to love.
Our first year of being parents was an interesting one, for many reasons. We were in the city, far from any family and with no friends who were really interested in coming north of Congress. Andy had drug-induced lupus thanks to some medication he was taking for his rheumatoid arthritis, which had him in the hospital on several occasions and had me losing my mind, taking care of Archer alone a lot. I often felt isolated by motherhood, as my husband worked 90-hour workweeks for months on end. But thanks to a Facebook mom’s group in the neighborhood, I found friends with little ones and we spent many mornings at the nearby playground or on the lakefront chatting while the kids played.
We found out I was pregnant with Clea, in May of 2014, we were in the middle of packing for a move that we wrestled with for a while. But that week yet another shooting occurred, one street behind our apartment. Moving to the suburbs, where we’d have more space and could save some money seemed like the next step for our now growing family. Now that we’ve just purchased our first home – even further from the city we love so much – in Mundelein, I’m glad our journey has brought us here. We have space to roam, we’re a short drive from my family in Wisconsin and just an hour away from downtown on the Metra. It’s the best of both worlds, though I definitely miss our old ‘hood – especially when I go through these old photos from our epic strolls. I’ve included them below, take a look and enjoy.
#marriedwithtexts 