Thanks to Angela H for these photos!
You can see the “Cloud Gate” sculpture (by British artist – Anish Kapoor) above the students as they wait in line (it reflects the night skyline). The sculpture has become affectionately known to Chicagoans as “the Bean.”
Our city’s first African American Mayor, Harold Washington, lived in a Hyde Park penthouse overlooking where the Monk Parakeets lived, and he likened his presence in City Council to these South American birds who thrived in the cold winters of Chicago. “I’m like these birds. Some people say Chicago isn’t ready for me. Some people say I don’t belong.” Hyde Parkers fondly speculated that his bodyguards were employed to protect the birds more than him. After he died (in office), the park was named for 
him. The birds stayed and became known as “Harold’s Parakeets.” A few years later the DuSable Museum of African American History, over a mile away, built an additional wing and named it for Mayor Washington. “Harold’s Parakeets” moved to the trees right outside the new building! Now you can find them throughout the neighborhood.
These pictures were taken outside our office today.
When I was 21 years old I found a piece of paper which changed my life. Three weeks after reading the brochure left on a table and immediately signing up for Urban Life Center (as it was known then), I was on a plane from Utah (via my college of 800 in Kansas) to Chicago.
Irritatingly to me then, my former boyfriend and 3 other guys from my college were also flying in. I wanted to arrive in a place where no one knew me, where I could soak in the art, the people, the energy of the streets, where I believed I could finally be myself. Instead, I had 4 other people to deal with.
I am embarrassed to say that I called up the office and demanded that someone meet us. I am embarrased to say that once we landed I felt I needed to organize all our luggage onto luggage carts, and get us out of the airport to meet the van I had been told would be waiting.
The bearded man who helped get our bags and boxes inside was Scott Chesebro, the executive director of the Center. He got us settled, turned the key and shifted gears. Everything I had planned and hoped for began to appear. That is, the buildings began to grow. The roads began to widen, the cars sped by. My beloved Kansas sky did not disappear, but deepened. Later, Scott told me the gasps from the back of the van made him look out the window with fresh eyes.
Tomorrow 16 students will make their own journey to Chicago and the Center. I envy their first sights. Sometimes you don’t know your own story until you’ve let it unfold. Sometimes the story begins when you look out the window.
