Da Cubs...

On a flight from Chicago to New York.  After a long night of drinking too much.  The Cubs won.  For the first time since 1945 they are going to the World Series.  I wasn’t a crazy sports fan growing up.  I didn’t go to the Friday night football games in high school.  I was the awkward gay kid that was always picked last in gym class.  I was so happy last night though.  I was happy for Chicago.

I grew up here.  I spent one year living in an apt that didn’t have a Chicago zip code.  And I hated it.  I love Chicago.  My dad was a city employee.  We had to live in Chicago.  I grew up on the south side.  I went to Catholic schools.  Mostly white Irish kids.  I had a very stereotypical Chicago childhood.    

I went to college at DePaul.  In the heart of Chicago. In my 20’s I toyed with the idea of moving to NYC.  The diversity, the theater, the way the city feels so alive always.  I wanted to be a part of that.  I couldn’t pull the trigger.  I was ingrained in this city.  My family, my friends… my life was all here.  My friends in New York didn’t seem happier then I was in Chicago. 

Five years ago I moved to Wrigleyville.  Wrigleyville is manic.  It’s young and loud and busy.  It’s the neighborhood most people would move to right after college.  I basically live in a frat house.  I moved into my apartment when I was 28.  A few years too late.  I didn’t care. Last night, at the bar I live above, as the Cubs scored two outs off a hit, and clinched their spot in the World Series I was reminded all over again why I love this city.

I’m not a sports fan.  I don’t watch consistently, but I get how people do.  I get why they care.  In the ninth inning last night Chicago was united.  We were one.  This city has done so much for me.  It has given me more then I have ever given it.  I love walking around at night.  I wander.  In the stillness and darkness of the city, as it slowly shuts down, and it calms me.  Chicago isn’t the safest city statistically speaking, but I have always felt safe. 

Chicago is my safety blanket.  I hate leaving.  Even for a few days.  The best part, for me, of traveling, is seeing that skyline when I land.  I’m not a nomad.  I’m a stayer.  I like consistency.  Chicago is my consistency. 

I saw grown men cry last night, at the end of that baseball game. They’ve waited so long.  This franchise means something to so many.  It means something to me.  People in Chicago are kind.  And though the neighborhoods are somewhat segregated it’s diverse.  Last night was proof of that.  As this city came together in the streets.  We are all the same in this city.  The next week will be interesting, as Chicago prepares for a possible World Series win.  I’ll be in the heart of it all.  The Chicago flag has hung in my apartment since I moved in five plus years ago, and has been tattooed on me for even longer.  This week matters, for sports fans, but also those of us that love this city.  We’re in it together this week, Chicago…. With love, Henry