Pillows From the Sky
“Then I will begin to tell you something new! Something white! something cold! something sleepy! something of cease, and peace, and the long bright curve of space! ”
Today I had lunch with two photographer friends—Don and Gary. It was my first outing with friends since last March. To celebrate, we took our masks off. Gee I hope the vaccine works. I can only imagine couples sharing similar thoughts in the late Sixties when birth control pills replaced barrier-based methods of birth control. Yep, masks are just another form of condoms and diaphragms.
As we sat at a table next to the plate-glass window at Piccolo Sogno, I saw snow begin to descend from the heavens. Large pillows fell from the sky—fat, wet flakes. Gary offered me a ride to 25 East Washington in the Loop so that I would not miss my 3 PM destiny with the my new endocrinologist. Ah, the ever thoughtful Gary, with his dark streak, knew I was looking forward to my first root canal.
instead I chose to walk. I had two cameras tucked away in my bag, and I wasn’t going to miss what might well be the last snowfall of the season. I headed over a bridge that led me past a rail corridor leading to the western suburbs and over the Kennedy Expressway. I then headed east on Washington, passing the Picasso. Not a lot of people on the streets.
When I arrived at the doctor’s office, I discovered that my camera bag had at least two inches of snow piled on its top. My hair was soaking wet, and the rug in the waiting room was now spotted as the snow melted.
As I looked out the office window waiting for the local anesthetic to form a barrier against pain, I realized the drug was much like the vaccine and birth control pills, once again demanding a leap of faith. It was only at the end that I could feel the soon to be dead nerve tingle. It didn’t really hurt. More frightening was the anticipation—suppose the nerve comes alive, subjecting me to the sort of excruciating pain that would cause me to bite down on the drill, ripping my tongue to pieces. But before long, the process was over and so was the snowfall.
The quiet and white I had just experienced more than made up for the terror. Here are a few of images that I made. Pay particular attention to the first one: Is the juxtaposition of the two billboards a coincidence or did Uber or the sign company decide to make an intentional statement about one of Covid’s paradoxes? I did a little research when I arrived home. I found no evidence that Uber is doing public service announcements about hunger.
And by the way, my doctor did a tremendous job. No pain during or after the procedure. As Carly Simon sang long ago, it’s all anticipation.
[Click on an Image to Enlarge It]
Delivery for Those with the Means
Westward Bound
In the Distance
Radicalism in the Loop
Past the Picasso
“Call 222-2222”
The Kennedy
Fat and Wet Flakes
Spanning the South Branch
Waiting in Terror
