Sunday, June 22, 2014

NEIGHBORS GONE WILD



                                               NEIGHBORS GONE WILD
                  Illegal Conversions Create Chaos for Northwest Side Bungalow Crowd
                                                        by Jeff Kwit

       I haven't been able to park in front of my house since the Bush administration.

       I recognize that on the list of human suffering, this ranks somewhere below getting a

sliver, but your parking space is your sanctuary as proven by the hordes of junk that

annually fill them come the snows. We enjoy the convenience of going car to doorway

with a minimum of steps, especially if the weather be inclement.

         This is a relatively new phenomenon in my suburban zip coded Chicago hood,

and I am fairly confident that the cause is a little thing we call "illegal conversions."

          In my research for this article (that's right, I WORKED on this!) I found an

article by the great Sun Times writer Raymond Coffey from 1996 when the problem was

in bloom. He observed that single family homes and 2 flats were turning into "virtual

boarding houses for recently arrived immigrants."

           And I'm pretty sure that's why I can't get a parking space!

            Now don't get me wrong, I am not anti-immigration nor do I take lightly the

dangers of illegal conversions to those families crammed into close quarters to benefit

a greedy landlord. That is a topic for minds wiser than my own. I just want to park! At

this point, being able to park in front of my own house is a feeling similar to winning $4

on a lottery scratch off ticket. You really like it but it isn't  life changing.

            It's a particular problem on weekends when I would not be surprised to see guys

in red vests and flashlights directing neighborhood cars to open spots. I think I once

had to park in Norridge and take a shuttle to my residence.  Or maybe I dreamed that,

no matter. But I DO know I have been tempted on more than one occasion to bring the

3 legged bench out of summer hibernation to stand guard curbside.  I would venture to

say that garages are going for almost as much as homes in this area, such are their

value on this parking spot challenged city block.

              Lest I sound like I might be the neighborhood curmudgeon, there IS a bright

side to the teeming masses that are streaming into my tree lined bunch o'bungalows.

                I am always meeting new neighbors and I think the lemonade stand I am

considering setting up on the corner may do a booming business given that the entrances

to these homes sometimes resemble the turnstyles at Wrigley Field. It's a Welcome

Wagon's representative's worst nightmare.

                 And so as I seek a parking space and wave hello to the neighborhood home

owners lighting cigars with $50 bills, I remind you to never take that space in front of

your dwelling for granted. In winter, the snow wants it and in the other seasons it might

well be one of your two dozen new neighbors.



                     

Friday, June 20, 2014

CURSIVE! FOILED AGAIN!

A recent letter to the editor in the Chicago Tribune regarding the lost art of handwriting (6/16) brings to mind

 the opposite of that particular problem for yours truly.

I am cursed by Cursive as my penmanship borders on the exquisite, according to the critics. I dare say the 

Tribune's own respected critic, Christopher Borrelli would call them "must see P's" ,along with all the other 

letters I fashion into works of art. But don't hate me because my penmanship is beautiful.


Invariably, when I sign for something or must submit something hand written, the person inspecting the 

document remarks about my handw riting handiwork.  Someday I will be asked to autograph my

own name, something the world has never seen nor expressed any desire to do so.

I have been told more than a few times: "You write like a girl" which may be sexist as well as a compliment to 
an entire gender and a swipe at my masculinity but no matter.

That note to the Tribune reassures me that I am keeping Cursive hope alive on the few occasions I use it.It's 

a pity 

email has hidden my light beneath a bushel.

People clamor to be on my Christmas card list just to see my handwriting . In a few short months you will 

see it in all its glory. If I can get the stupid pen to work, I mean.