The Lure of Lake Michigan

(I haven't blogged in almost two months, having spent half of that time in Chicago.  Here's part of the "why").  

 "Chicago, Chicago, that toddling town.  Chicago, Chicago, I will show you around.  Bet your bottom dollar you'll lose the blues in Chicago, Chicago; the town that Billy Sunday couldn't shut down," or so Frank Sinatra sang back in the day.  (Billy Sunday?)

I spent half my sojourn as a Don Quixotic sidekick to my candidate-niece, Judie, in her quest to win a  judgeship in a hotly contested race.  Let me explain: all my nieces and nephews (and there's a slew of them) rank as "favorite,"  but that designation had nothing to do with my decision to spend almost a month in Chi-Town. More than likely,  the reality of my sister and her daughter living on different floors in a lakefront high-rise, persuaded me.

I've opined previously about the Siren allure of Lake Michigan! It harbors a personality that changes like a chameleon, to mix a metaphor or two.  Sometimes soothing, often invigorating, then placid, boisterous, or even deer-like in its speed, the Lake becomes the gift that keeps on giving.  To get back to my Chicago sabbatical, however, my parents often referenced "printer's ink," when talking about addictive behavior. "Oh, he's got printer's ink in his blood," they'd say, although neither had a printer or newspaper background. 

Nonetheless, the art of politics occupies liters of space in my blood supply.  An itch that required constant attention long before my naive, personal foray, into politics; its genesis grew in Chicago's political machine, originally conceived and "birthed" by a mayor surnamed "Daley."  Daddy never  held a seat as one of 50 aldermen on the City Council; he didn't sport those kinds of "bones." Instead, he was a "foot-soldier" who ensured that political tracts reached voters, reminded residents to vote, or relayed neighborhood concerns to the alderman's staff.

No, the late Honorable Arie  Parks Taylor, the first Black woman in Colorado to be elected to the State Legislature and a champion "righter-of-wrongs," owns that distinction.  I had sought her help on my brother's advice when the university where I worked as faculty and attended graduate school rejected my petition to graduate from one of its doctoral programs.  My shock and chagrin resulted from a 100-something-mile commute daily from Denver where we lived, to the university town, 11 months a year, for seven years.  

You can't imagine my surprise and consternation when I received the certified letter denying I'd ever been officially admitted!  Essentially, the missive informed me that I could not be graduated since I'd never officially been accepted! What about the classes, internships in the President's office, research, and doctoral hoops I'd mastered? No, the letter explained, none of it had been officially registered.  Not even the "straight A's" from the President and other professors? You've got to be kidding!  or else you've gotta shake me, wake me when this nightmare's over!

Described by Essence magazine, as "that fierce Black woman from Colorado," Arie fought ferociously in the Legislature s well as the streets of her District district to enfranchise her disadvantaged and economically underrepresented working-class constituents.  In turn, voters in her District re-elected her with an 80% voter turnout every two years for decades.  Arie Taylor lived modestly in a neighborhood filled with World War II-era homes.  She worked diligently with City Council representatives to help keep clean streets and low crime rates. She made most of her bones as a taxi driver who listened and learned.

Of course, I challenged the university! And Arie, trooper that she was, attended all the hearings, even though they lasted for hours on end and she was a Type 2 diabetic.  After over a year of fighting, we won!  And as an old spiritual declared, "What a time! What a time! What a time!" Relatives from Chicago and the South came in the cold of winter to celebrate with us.  Daddy saw his "Baby Girl" march across a stage to receive a degree he'd never imagined possible for himself! What a humbling experience that was, for each one of us.

Subsequently, I served as Arie's speechwriter and later even campaigned for a seat on the Denver School Board and later its City Council. Arie wielded her wisdom, political ingenuity, and grassroots insight into each of my campaigns---to no avail.  Each time, the incumbents won the election; yet I realized even then I'd won something more substantial that lives even now. Two-plus decades later, benefits still flow.

"For surely I know the plans I have for you says the Lord;plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope." Jeremiah 29:11

Meandering down memory lane propelled me to Chicago and its mesmerizing Lake Michigan and carried me through the excitement and rawness of the campaign process. It graced my exchanges with potential voters, hawking "my niece, the candidate, who wants to be your judge Judie."  The morning after, I  marveled at my niece's acceptance of her election loss, not defeat, and of the Father's plans for her future. 

Until we meet again, providential Lake Michigan until we meet again, God be with us til we meet again...