The Urban Veranda by Chipka
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Description
Things are different now. The urban grunge you remember as the defining feature of Lakeview has been replaced by a bland, shopping-mall sterility. Once, as you walked the length of Belmont from the elevated train platform to the comfort of Halsted Street, you often passed punk-boys with ink and piercings. They squatted like gargoyles in duct-taped combat boots with grime under their fingernails and cigarettes pinched between their teeth. They snarled as they smoke, they sniffed illicit and noxious things, and hunched their shoulders, deep within their black hoodies, as if the night carried a chill. Some wore mowhawks. Some shaved their heads. Others wore their hair in the manner of an electrocuted hedgehog. You remember them. You remember the one named Tallboy, and his friends, Scooby and Scooter. You remember Zoë-O: the nice punk-boy who kept his hair teased into rainbow spikes. You remember his longjohns and boots.
Things are different now. You haven’t seen Scooby and Scooter in decades. You’re sure that Zoë-O has moved on to more conservative things. His rainbow, you suspect, has been shaved. Lakeview has changed. It is a cold and sterile place: a shopping mall through which cars are allowed to drive through it. Lakeview is a shopping mall with apartments on top. It is not the scruff-punk neighborhood you remember: the place where you’d first learned to kiss in Polish, or smoke bidis and clove. You know that things changed, that only the rocks live forever…or at least for a very long time, and so it is not surprise that Lakeview has been neutered and transformed.
The surprise of Lakeview is in a single theater, The Vic: where a friend of yours once worked, and where you were always allowed in, free of charge. You knew then what you know now: it helps to know a college-buddy bouncer. You got in places free, that way. And upon your return to Lakeview, you’re not surprised that your bouncer friend (like Zoë-O) has moved on. You’re surprised that the Vic remains, and that the smoker’s lounge (fire escape) remains in place. It is a comfort to see that aggregate of heavy, dense metal…a greater comfort to walk beneath it, remembering those late, late nights with friends, smoking and watching drunks in the alley. You’re not a drunk in the alley, but you remember yourself and Hugh, Kirby, and that chubby blond guy who thought he was Diana Ross. You remember how you christened the smokers’ lounge with beer and ashes, and dropped your spent and smoldering butts downward, to watch them throw sparks as they hit grimy concrete. You remember Hugh's first cigarette, and how Kirby (your rockin' chick-friend) judged him to be an "apple boy" the kind of guy who'd forever be a virgin, even if he's sired a dozen offspring..."He's pure," you remember her saying, and how each of you watched as Hugh smoked for the first time and blushed red in the face. You remember how he wore sandals on the night that he smoked for that first time, and how he dropped his butt through the fire escape grating only to reveal sparks, scant moments later, bracketed by the incredible--almost luminous--pallor of his feet shod only in thick, rubber-soled sandals.
Today, the concrete is still grimy underfoot, but there is no carpet of cigarette butts. Your friends (those from the far, far past) are gone, and you—walking towards the elevated Red Line station—anticipate the arrival of a more contemporary and long-term friend. Lakeview is a different place now. It is not home. It is not friendly to the punks and "weirdos" who defined your youth. Only the odd fire escape remains, to remind you of the days when such things were what you (and friends) claimed as your own urban verandas.
***
As always, thank you for viewing, reading, and commenting, and hopefully you've all had a great weekend and are on the verge of a productive and happy week.
Comments (23)
beachzz
you evoke such real and powerful memories in these stories. i can almost smell the cigarette smoke, hear you talk softly, see the sparks as the butts fall. i've seen those guys before, they had different names, but the same hair and attitude and most people gave them a wide berth. what i know is that under all the hair and grunge and attitude were some sweet guys. i know that because one of them used to live next door to me. he had a 6' mohawk, scared the hell out of people. i knew him as a kid with perfect pitch, who would come over and visit me just because. sometimes his hair would be green, or red, or bozo orange. he would always take his hat off to show me, cuz he knew i'd love it. sure, some of those guys aren't as sweet as he was, but they are all their mother's sons. wow--you got me going somewhere i wasn't expecting---!!
danapommet
Super story Chip and your POV here is excellent. I like the fire escapes transition from the shadows into the light. Dana
junge1
Great perspective. The picture and story brings back memories from a distant past!
blinkings
Great. I do love the fire escapes. Nice story too.
bmac62
Well done Chip. I didn't grow up on New York City's lower eastside or even in the Irish or Polish neighborhoods of the upper west side. But I know that the streets of New York have changed just like Lakeview. Ethnic groups predominant in the hood fifty years ago have migrated to the general population and spread all over the country. They've been replaced by newer, more recent ethnic groups backfilling their predecessors. The Poles, the Italians, the Irish have been replaced by the Vietnamese, the Koreans, the Hispanics. But there still remain the urban core of Jewish and Blacks (in NYC and Brooklyn). The faces on the fire escapes have changed, the city has figured out how to hide more of the urban poor, the homeless, the folks mayors and city councils try to sweep under the rug or even ship off to other cities (maybe Chicago). But every once in awhile, there stands an old Vic. Probably reconditioned as a modern venue for rock concerts. But no matter what its' use, it reminds one of earlier times. And reconnects one with a past, not much better or worse...just different. The fire escape is one of those immutable things. There it is...the same as 1960 or maybe even 1920. Thanks for taking me back through your city and mine. Well done...tightly written...a pleasure to walk through with you! Bill
Meisiekind
The image touched me even before I read your narrative! Deepseated memories of a bygone era Chip and a stern reminder that eventually everything changes. Gosh - I am not over excited about life at the moment.
durleybeachbum
You write with such enormous empathy, not just with your own group, but with the people you observe. Your words bring back strong recollections of my professional involvement with the disenchanted of this era, and, indeed, my fondness for certain individuals. This is a perfect fit between pic and prose once more. Superb, Chip!
helanker
I dont know how you do it, but you grab the reader. You just know how to capture the reader. I get the whole scene in my mind while I read this. AMAZING.
jac204
Always a pleasure seeing your pictures and reading your narratives.
thecytron
Great shot!
MrsRatbag
I love these old fire escapes...and your observations are, as always, fascinating!
geirla
Nice image and writing. Sometimes when I read your stuff I can smell the metal, smoke, dust and damp of the dusk of an almost spring urban day.
flora-crassella
great title! Fantatic picture!!!
nikolais
just do not stop, Chip!
belasebok
Interesting picture!
volcomman1
great story! great shot!
minos_6
The photograph has great form, nice choice of pov. I like your evocative writing too, well done!
NefariousDrO
The stark light, lines of the fire escape, the bricks, this is all such a perfect accompaniment to your writing. This is also one of your more moving pieces. It's a bit of a cliche, but I think the pain of being in Chicago instead of the Prague or Russia you'd prefer is quite possibly making your writings even stronger. I'm not sure the gain is worth the price, but we're certainly enjoying reading your powerful words.
myrrhluz
Firstly, I didn't say, when I was commenting on 'Window' how much I enjoyed the narrative. I got wrapped up in the picture and forgot. The trip through Andrea and Corey's apartment was a wonderful experience of sights, smells and light. Your narratives are extraordinarily descriptive, that even if it is something I have no first hand knowledge of, I feel like I know it at least a little. And here again, you brought me into a world I have never been, introduced me to people I have never met, and made me feel that I have some insight on it and them. This is a wonderful talent you have. Terrific image, perfect with the narrative!
kgb224
Wonderful capture and story my friend.
mermaid
oh I like this one, a just wonderful composition of textures and it goes so well with your words
auntietk
I fell in love with this view of the fire escape, a view I've never seen, coming from a place where there are so few of them. And then I fell in love with the story, the mood of the thing, the images that marched and danced and leapt across my inner vision. This is a powerful, beautifully written piece, and I sit here, entranced, ready to begin again.
blondeblurr
Having watched enough American T.V. I am now familiar with these typical 'smoker- lounges' and I can associate with your story. You won't find them in our part of the world, where I live but then again there no such high-rise apartments exist, either ! Only in America. Looking up, I imagine it, to look almost like a very big Cheese-slicer. Your childhood memories are fun to read, a nostalgic trip. Cheers BB