Desertion and (Self) Preservation

After some digging online, I finally found out what this vacant building is to the north of my apartment complex. It has always struck me as highly unusual that a historic building in such a prime location in Chicago sits vacant. It always felt to me as though it were some kind of school. Perhaps because of the way the building is centered around a courtyard, and the way the fountain sits. It reminded me a little of Oxford colleges, just on a much smaller scale. Anyhow, I kept forgetting to ask at the office to see if they knew what that building was, so tonight I started digging for information about Gold Coast historic buildings, and found it. Found it in a rather surprising way, actually, landing on this story: “Plans withdrawn for Gold Coast repository for cremains.” Apparently, in November, the plan to turn the place into a morbid site for cremated remains was withdrawn after great opposition from the entire Gold Coast community. I can’t believe I was living here when all that happened, and hadn’t heard a thing about it. But I’m so incredibly relieved that they didn’t go through with it: the place already creeps me out as it is, because it’s this huge, old, deserted building (the kind you read about in ghost stories), but to look out my window everyday and see a huge old building filled with ashes? No, thank you.

As you can see if you follow the link, it is the old Three Arts Building. It was built in 1914, and housed women studying the arts. Somehow, it seems utterly fitting that I would land close by. I think, someday, that building may wind up in a book I write.

Aside from my continued fascination with the building, I decided I should look it up before I leave the Gold Coast. Since I have decided (with 90% certainty) that I will move this summer to a neighborhood with ample parking and cheaper rents, it has suddenly dawned on me that I need to explore my neighborhood much more before I leave it (can you believe I haven’t been to the Newberry Library or the Chicago History Museum yet? Inexcusable, I know!).

It’s really a bittersweet decision on my part. This neighborhood is absolutely gorgeous. It has some of the most beautiful early twentieth-century buildings in the city of Chicago. It sits right next to the lake. I hope that maybe one day I will move back here, but into a place that I own. That is a big dream, but you never know—it could happen. It’s a very expensive neighborhood and the parking, well, I just can’t take it anymore. Today I drove around for about 20 minutes to find a spot when I returned from Ohio, and ultimately ended up several blocks away in an area with which I’m not as familiar, and I swear I looked at all the street signs carefully, but I’m still scared that I may have missed something and will walk out to move my car this weekend and find it towed. I’m so tired of having to walk by my car to make sure it’s okay (i.e., hasn’t been hit, broken into, or towed). Everyone keeps telling me to sell my car, but I refuse. It’s too convenient for me to get home to visit family in Ohio (and take my laundry, and bring back groceries). Besides, it’s my first car, and it has been wonderful. Even more importantly, I own it. I don’t own my home, and probably won’t own a place for awhile. It’s the only real thing of value that is mine. Paid for, owned, and extremely useful. Besides, what if I decide I want to leave Chicago? How would I get by someplace else without a car?

Aside from these factors, I also can get much more apartment space for cheaper somewhere else, and I’ve already got my next neighborhood in mind. But it’s leaving the proximity to the lake that tugs at my heartstrings. It sounds silly, but my runs by the lake were the only thing that really got me through last summer. I honestly don’t know how else I would have released all that negative energy and sadness if I didn’t have my runs, and the comfort of the tempestuous lake to my east. And it was all there for me, with so little effort. Maybe, I will get lucky and find a great little place near the lake with a parking garage, but considering my budget, I’m not holding my breath. Of course, if I can actually use my car because there will be parking when I return, I can always drive myself to the lake and then go for my run, or picnic, or tanning, or reading on a bench. And then, there’s always good old public transportation. Eh, it won’t be the same as living here. But every neighborhood has its assets.