Today, a storm came in. One minute it was sunny, hot and humid. The next, black clouds swirled in making the daylight look like early evening. It was still afternoon according to the clock, but it no longer looked like it or felt like it. Going by feelings, I would have labeled the time four to five hours later than it actually was.

The way the weather changed the day and my perception of it is the same way moods work in my life more often than I wish were true. I’m sailing through a sunny day enjoying life when something doesn’t go according to plan, pain flares or… nothing. Sometimes the dark moods just drop in unexpectedly and for no apparent reason whatsoever. I really, really hate that. If I’m going to feel bad, I like a reason to blame it on.

Today, I’m blaming it on the fact that I lost my favorite swim cover up on the most recent trip. My guess is that I left it in the hotel room, hanging over the shower. But whatever, I no longer have it. It’s a trivial reason to be bummed, but at least it’s a reason. If I don’t assign this mood to the cover up’s disappearance, I’m left with the quasi, nebulous not exactly right, no clear-cut excuse for my mood.

Therefore, that’s my explanation and I’m sticking to it.

But the mood storms are not a change of mood in isolation. They can affect other things and other people. They can start a chain of actions that lead in places we don’t want to go.

Back to today’s real and physical storm. As it started, I had been seated, minding my own business and looking up some information on my laptop. I put my computer down, went to stand and my knee didn’t like the idea. Ever since I injured it last year, it reacts to storms. Not every time, but more often than I appreciate. That synovial joint senses the weather and usually just aches. But today, for about two minutes, it hurt so much that it wouldn’t support me.

I took off my shoes, shook it a bit, and it was okay again.

Sometimes the crazy moods respond the same way. Put them on a new footing, shake them up a bit and head in a different direction and life’s good again. Prayer, praise, Bible verses or helping someone else are usually good go-to’s.

But sometimes, none of those tools work.

I have to realize that not only is it okay, but God knows these emotion storms will come. He promises that he will walk with us through the dark valleys. So if we can’t divert the path, we need to remember that he is there with us.

Because the Bible also says the heart is deceitful. The heart, as the seat of the emotions, can twist us around and take our eyes off of anything that is true and instead ask, “But how do you feel?” Focusing on how we feel instead of what is real can lead us into a downward spiral when those emotions are negative or destructive.

About a decade ago, I wrote a poem on this topic which remains one of my favorites. I’ve probably included it in a blog before, to be honest. But truth always bears repeating.

And until this emotional storm subsides, I’ll remember this truth: God walks beside me.

Life in the Cloud

The cloud descends without meaning.

The cloud descends without warning.

The cloud envelops life without purpose.

I did not ask for a cloud.

Nothing in life warranted the cloud.

I am blessed; I am loved;

I belong!

Still, it comes.

It surrounds my day

And blurs my reality.

I cannot see clearly in its grip.

The world is greyed and dimmed.

Even the concrete loses substance.

I move and breathe on slow motion

as if something tangible surrounds me

and interferes with me bodily.

The cloud descends; the battle begins.

Still, through the darkness, light penetrates in waves of dream and hope.

And I know.

I know that one day

As fog burns in the sun

The cloud will disappear and I will see joy again.

But for now

I live the life of the cloud.

Last week I was on vacation in Chicagoland and Galena while Gary was on a business trip. It’s mindboggling (to me anyway) how much you can learn when you’re relaxing and not even trying to learn anything new.

The first thing I learned was that Soldier Field has enough lights on, even when it’s totally empty to recognize it from the air. The second thing I learned was that you can indeed see the white caps of Lake Michigan’s waves at night from the air. The third thing was many people are immensely grateful when they land after a difficult flight. On the fifth approach, when the wheels actually touched ground, the plane burst into applause.

And I learned how to be immensely grateful when even four hours late, Liz and Mark made it there to pick me up.

I learned (or relearned) that playing pinochle with Dad never gets old and is a great way to communicate and socialize with him.

Playing with food, by creating meals from what Dad had on hand gave me opportunity to test my creativity. I learned (or relearned) how much fun I have trying to pull together something tasty with limited options.

I learned my nephew Jeremiah is growing up. He offered some pithy wisdom about people tending to argue about meaningless things and he also explained to me how enjoyment is as much about the person’s attitude as it is about the actual circumstances.

The learning curve really accelerated when Liz and I headed to Galena. I hadn’t been to the town since I was in high school over forty years ago. All I remembered was that it was the birthplace/hometown of President and General Ulysses S. Grant.

We stopped for lunch in Elizabeth, because why wouldn’t we? That is my sister’s full name after all.

Once we arrived at the Galena History Museum we learned the origin of the name of Elizabeth, Illinois. Three women, all named Elizabeth, fought so valiantly to defend their fort that they managed to convince Blackhawk and his 200 troops that the fort was heavily armed and defended. He left and the forty some in the fort survived to continue to build Illinois history.

We also learned about the driftless region. They talked a lot about the driftless region. That area, which includes Galena, the Quad Cities and the Dubuque region, are classified as driftless because no glacier ever left drift upon their soil. Instead, during the Ice Age, the glaciers went around that area. Thus, the land was never scoured or flattened which explains why it is so hilly compared to much of the Midwest.

Speaking of hilly, the next piece of informative knowledge was the definition of walking distance. Our hotel, while fairly nice, was a bit deceptive about being walking distance from downtown Galena. As the crow flies, maybe. The trail to downtown was about 500 steps, as in stairs, down. The thing is you would have to climb those stairs to get back to the hotel. With our trick knees? Liz drove us back and forth.

At one of the mansions, we were told the origin of the saying, “keep up with the Jones”. That was pretty cool. Mr. Jones was a rags to riches story. He invested everything he earned as a laborer into steamboats and became one of the wealthiest men along the Mississippi. He was good friends with Grant and knew many of the influential politicians on the Union side of the Civil War. When Grant became general (via his endorsement) one of Grant’s first campaigns was in Vicksburg, MS. When Jones asked if there was any way he could help, Grant sent him a lengthy list via telegram including everything from uniforms to food to weaponry. Jones bought everything and sent multiple ships down the Mississippi to deliver it all to Grant.

The Confederate general saw the extent of the incoming supplies and surrendered saying, “we can’t keep up with the Jones.”

The last fun thing I discovered had to do with a different kind of politics. Goat politics. In order to get the best food or stay dry in the rain, goats offer no favoritism. They will climb over each other to find the best space or leaf.

They were amusing, but they made me glad I was human.

The last educational tidbit echoes the theme of the Wizard of Oz. As enjoyable as vacations and adventures are: “There’s no place like home.”

Last week I heard the song with the same title as this post. Written by the group, Chicago, my initial thought was ‘how apropos!’ since I’m heading to Chicago soon. (Will be in Illinois as this posts, actually.) While some of the song is fittingly nostalgic, a lot of it is morose because the singer is asking to be buried in said city.

No thanks. Just want to visit and return to Virginia.

But it got me thinking about my connection to the city and the region. I haven’t lived there since 1990 and had many years prior when I didn’t live in Illinois even though it was declared my state of residence. Still, I like to think of myself as a native to the area because I grew up there, had my first professional jobs downtown, and most of my family lives in and around the region. (Plus, I will forever cheer on the Chicago Cubs!)

Perceptions of Chicago outside of the Midwest vary widely. I remember when I was an exchange student in France in the late 70s, the strange reaction I got whenever I mentioned the city closest to my house. They would switch to English, extend forefingers as pistols aimed at me and say, “Gangsters! Boom! Bang!” As a guest in their country, I’d restrain the eyeroll I so wanted to give and gently explain that all of that was from the 20s… over fifty years prior.

Earlier in the 70s, a popular song met with those eyerolls from my friends. We were kids, but we knew enough about local geography to realize the group that wrote the song did not. A British band sang about the “east side of Chicago”. There is an East Chicago, but that’s in Indiana. Physically speaking, the East Side would be Lake Michigan. You could maybe make a case for calling the territory between Michigan Avenue and Lake Shore Drive the east side, but that’s really part of downtown. Or the South Side or North Side or Near North or… depending on where you line up with the neighborhoods and invisible boundaries.

Chicago’s colorful history has earned it a slew of nicknames. There’s no way I can do all of them justice with the remainder of this post. Thus, I will set non-Chicagoans straight on the few that I get asked about the most.

Windy City. When I used to walk from Union Station to Michigan Avenue, there were a few streets that could have a pretty intense wind-tunnel effect, particularly during the winter. I remember making an effort to avoid pieces of Adams because of this. That said, Chicago is not called the Windy City because of physical wind.  It doesn’t even place in the top ten US cities. The wind tunnels I mentioned came about due to the construction of a lot of high rises and skyscrapers. On streets perpendicular to the lake, these can be seasonally problematic. But the nickname predates those. Instead, the politicians of Chicago in the 1800s earned the name for the city because they were full of so much hot air.

City of the Big Shoulders. I actually first heard this nickname in a song intro by the Chicago-native rock group Styx. The origins, though, go to Illinois native and famous poet, Carl Sandburg and are within the poem aptly entitled Chicago. (Fog by Sandburg is one of my favorite poems.) He also included other nicknames (Hog Butcher to the World) within the poem that powerfully offers tribute to his adopted city. Go read it.

In a way, the actual name of the city is a nickname. It came from a Native American word that meant wild garlic—an item that grew abundantly on the swampy (and stinky) land near the lake shore.

Chi-town (pronounced Shy-town) is another old nickname for the city. It was also recorded in the 1800s. As far as why? My guess is natives trying to be informal. Nobody knows for sure.

As far as pronunciation goes, if you have any questions about how to say Chicago, listen to the song mentioned at the beginning. They do pronounce it correctly.

And then give a toast to my hometown with a slice of deep-dish pizza, an Italian beef, a hot dog with all the appropriate trimmings, or any of the delicious offerings from the multicultural neighborhoods. No one will ever convince me that Chicago’s foods aren’t the best in the country!