New warmth / Old hotness
Today: John Saward, a writer based in Chicago; and A.J. Daulerio, editor, journalist and the proprietor of The Small Bow.
Issue No. 292
Where I’m Thawing From
John Saward
Some Like it HOT 100
A.J. Daulerio
Where I’m Thawing From
by John Saward
A couple blocks over from our place is a Brown Line station, close enough to make out the soft clatter of every approaching train, and across the street from us there is an elementary school, and when the weather starts to turn, when the kids come outside again for recess their hooting frenzies will mix with the train rumble in a way that sounds almost like people hitting curves on a rollercoaster. It sounds like vacation, like victory, and when you hear it you will wonder if maybe winter in Chicago has finally done its worst to you for the year.
It's a despicable kind of cold, it’s true what they say, merciless and without any of that jingling Christmas glee, a crooked old judge slamming the gavel as the bailiff drags you off sobbing. I had a theory at first that the wind was more severe on streets that connected directly to the lake, but I don’t know if I believe that anymore. I don’t really care, I should say; that’s the thing, it’s the kind of cold that pummels theories right out of you. The wind is on every street, stupid! It will find you, ambush you, strip you naked and stampede over you like medieval cavalry.
There have been times, on some tyrannical January night walking back from picking up Thai food, when I have held the steaming bundle against my chest like it was my family. It is a dim and narrow and steamy little place, Pho’s Thai Cuisine, with Mild, Mild Plus, and Medium as crucially different spice options to decipher and navigate at your own peril. But you’ve got an order you can rely on now and isn’t that something, a place to call The Thai Place.
Keep us breathing fire!
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