night biking

The amber-steel sky of an overcast night lights my way down Lincoln Avenue. From the suburbs into the city, I ride in the muted darkness of the metropolis. Street lights provide oasis's of yellow pools in the grey night. The headlights of cars warn of their approach like a brash predator. Ahead of me I see a tapestry of lights: tails of cars, neon shapes proclaiming "open" or "beer", green and yellow traffic symbols, creamy-speckled high-rises, and pastel curtains of family homes.

My legs pump up and down on my pedals, and the cold wind brings rouge to my cheeks as I feel the release from a dependence on steel and petrol. These two tires, a light aluminum frame, gears, screws, bolts and all the pieces of metal and rubber combine with my body to propel me over distance. It offers me transportation and doesn't pretend to protect me from air, or entertain me with a radio, or comfort me with a soft seat. I'm responsible for my own safety, no seat-belts or airbags. The exhilaration of holding my own life in my own balance keeps me alert and wary of the the heavy vehicles speeding by, just feet away.

I feel the pavement. Every bump and crack reminds me of my connection with the world. I feel intimate with my route home. I expect the change in grade, and my tires caress the cement-clothed shape of the land. My breathing heightens as I reach the peak and calms as I coast on. Unused train-tracks scar the landscape, and potholes pit the smooth pavement. I experience it without leaving as a stranger enclosed within a metal box.

Scents assail my nostrils from the open air. Greasy, fast-food meat and fries is dank in the night. Some people still burn wood in the fireplace and the rich, sentimental aroma greets me and follows me for a block around its home and lingers as I pass. A chinese restaurant beckons with the sweetness of plum sauce mixed with rice. Diesel trucks remind me of the present with their black scented-smoke. Donut shops, hotdog stands, sweet kettle corn and more, present a menagerie of experiences, each with a story.

My mind is free to process the stories of my surroundings. I don't feel a need to drown my thoughts with the conversation of DJs and lonely singers. I'm at peace as I travel. The wind is far more soothing than the rumble of a motor. My minimalist symphony is composed from the contributions of other commuters in their cars and trucks, percussion-ed by the the brief arrival of a booming bass system or honking horn, and under-toned by my own steady, familiar breathing.

Familiarity leads me to appreciate my journey home.

versus

So, Illinois is really different than Washington.

In Chicago you can buy liquor IN THE GROCERY STORE. Yes, I could go to the store right now and buy hard alcohol. No going to some lame liquor store (though we have though), and having to go before they close and going out of your way. Now, when I go to the store to buy carrots, gardenburgers and popcorn, I can also buy vodka. Yes, Vodka in the store.

Oh, and we don't have Fred Meyers.

Safeway is Dominick's

Albertons is Jewel.

Butter is shaped differently when you buy it in the store.

There are toll roads in Illinois.

Driving an hour is a really long way to drive.
Unless you're stuck in traffic, and then it's just like Seattle.

Bars can stay open til 4 am.

Public radio doesn't suck in Chicago.

Chicago is two time zones ahead of Washington.

There are more thunderstorms in Chicago.
But it rains less.

There are actually really cool things in Chicago. A world-class art museums. Plays/musicals that run for weeks, a natural history museum with REAL dinosaur bones, and don't forget the international museum of surgical sciences.

BUT....

In Chicago, I can't look up and see a mountain.
In Chicago, I look at Lake Michigan and it looks like the Ocean/Puget Sound, but I can't smell the salt.
When I'm in Chicago, I call people and they are two hours ahead of me.
The sun doesn't set over the water/mountains.
An Asain grocery store has to pretend to be all touristy, instead of just real.
Since democrats are so entrenched, they aren't as friendly to volunteers.

Oh, Chicago, my new city, why do you have to be so different, and yet remind me of my old home?

I happen to agree with the Ninth Circuit court ruling that the Pledge of Allegiance is unconstitutional. Well, I do believe that if students want to say it, they should be allowed to, but to make it an everyday part of school life makes it very uncomfortable for students who don't want to say it.

Case in point. When I was in 12th grade, I took a photography elective. It fell during the period where we had the pledge of Allegiance. For the first few weeks of the semester, the teacher would be very adament about ensuring that EVERYONE stand up for the pledge. While he didn't make us actually recite it (that would have been really tough), he thought that it was important to "show respect" for the flag, and he also claimed that was the law.

I knew this wasn't the case. I was feeling very disillusioned with the US at the time, and also really chaffing under the wording of the pledge, especially the "under god" part, and I didn't want to stand up...and I also wanted to preserve my rights, as well as those of my class mates.

So, once I looked up the supreme court case: http://caselaw.lp.findlaw.com/cgi-bin/getcase.pl?court=US&vol=319&invol=624 that said that it was unconstitutional to force any student to "show respect" for the flag. And when the time came in class, I remained sitting. The teacher was outraged. I told him my reasoning, and the legal precident, and he continued to claim that it was the law. So, he sent me to the principal's office.

The principal agreed with me and said that I didn't have to stand. The teacher really didn't like ths decision.

Now, prior to this incident, the teacher had said he was nominating me for this student leadership thing. The day after I did this, he told me that he wasn't going to nominate me anymore because he didn't think I was a leader.

He also wasn't very nice to me for the rest of the semeester, and I felt very uncomfortable in that class.

So, as my case illustrates, when the pledge is recited the way that it is in the schools of the United States of America, it still provides a kind of coercion, and puts a lot of pressure upon students who don't share the beliefs of the mainstream to participate and keep their mouths shut. Teachers need to be educated about the fact that the pledge is a voluntary act. However, Even if it continues to be done in a group, as a class, it still serves as a dividing point for students and that's not right.

Leaving home

These past weeks have brought about a huge change for me. Graduation came and went with fanfare, long lines and the goodbyes associated with such a momentous occasion. Sentimentality isn’t my strong suit right now, so I found myself more excited to get out of Washington than tearful about the farewells that I was giving to all those whom I had known for years.

After graduation my roommate Michelle, our friend James and I decided to go and enjoy the temperate May afternoon. Spokane may have its issues: it’s dull, limited and republican. But for all of that it really is a beautiful city and I think that I had taken for granted the kinds of opportunities that I have enjoyed these past four years. The three of us first ventured up to Manitou Park to go and feed ducks and walk around the gardens. We went into the greenhouse for the last time, fed the snobby ducks and then left to go to one of my favorite places in Spokane.

It’s called The Islands Trailhead, and there’s a parking lot where one can leave behind the confines of mechanical monsters for the simplicity of human powered locomotion and travel down the Centennial trail. The trail itself is nice, but what makes this area special to me is the presence of large rock formations in the river. These rocks invoke the climbing, fearless and childlike spirit in me, and it’s something I cannot restrain. We climb one rock and from our majestic perch seek out ducks, who hopefully will appreciate the gift of bread left over from the snobby ducks of Manitou Park. Seeing none, we figure there are fish and we wad up the bread, like squishy paper that oozes through my fingers and pitch the balls of dough as far as we can into the river. After the bread is gone, we still are hankering to throw things and we climb down our rock to the water level and try to skip stones. Skipping stones turns into throwing rocks and then throwing bigger rocks until our arms ache from exertion. Our throbbing limb signify that it is time to leave and we do.

This Spokane adventure really let me live out some of my fondest memories of Spokane. For me, being at college was kind of like Never Neverland. We were grown up, but in our minds that could be ignored while we went sledding, ice blocking and had other fun associated with hills and the great outdoors.

No, Spokane wasn’t a utopia situated in the flat waste of Eastern Washington, but it was the kind of place that stretched one’s imagination. Thinking outside the box was essential in a town where ready made entertainment involved alcohol or costs. One’s inner child had to be let out to play occasionally, if only because it was the only thing to do.

I’m now two time zones away from Spokane, discovering something new. Chicago is a place where my imagination probably won’t be challenged as much, but I hope I still remember to exercise the right side of my brain as I discover things to love in this Midwest jewel.