HUSTLEKNOCKIN'  

Okay I’m gliding thru on my first full winter as a permanent resident of Cali, and you know what?

I miss Chicago…

I mean, there’s something to be said about a land, and a place getting into your DNA. People develop a connection, or should say, “recognize” a connection to where they’re from. And honestly, I’m from Chicago and I miss it.

I miss New York and practically fall in love with the place every time I go back. (A couple years of corporate hustlin’ in SoHo and BK will do that to you.)

I miss Mississippi, too. Something about knowing that that’s where your parents are from and the occasional visit, have the affect on me as well. (“Some kin’ from Down South” as well used to say on the west side.)

But I gotta say, I miss Chicago in a way that I haven’t missed any place that I’ve ever lived or worked in or visited.

Don’t twist my tongue tho; I haven’t had to rock a bubble down since I touched down in LAX back in March. And the closest I get to snow these days is looking up at the top of Big Bear.

In Chi, it snows side ways and all kinds of crooked. And hard. Just like the rain. Always for that strange for a place that wasn’t near an ocean.

I miss Chicago heat—you know the kind… where your button downs and jerseys get soaked until they’re like onionskins and you gotta peel ‘em off of you. And you can’t sleep worth a squat—and that’s with the A/C on blast.

Cali heat’s just soft compared to this, I tell you…

It was 75 on New Years Eve in the valley. And no El Nino to blame, either. I think it was 50 on Christmas. In Chi, you’re lucky if you see 25 ‘round this time of year.

LA’s got a mayor that’s putting it to a hot little news anchor on low… For all of Richie Daley’s dirt—and lord knows there’s been plenty, I just can’t imagine him being sloppy enough to get caught puttin’ to some WGN or Channel 5 honey behind Maggie’s back.

I miss Chicago buses—at least the drivers knew their routes. These guys drive like they’re going on a cross-country roadtrip or something.

I miss Chicago pizza. Cali has lousy, crap pizza.

I miss my boots. Timbs and Lugz just don’t work in the valley out here.

I miss politickin’ with cats on the corner. Seriously. I don’t mean doing illegal stuff, but I mean walking down the street everyday and seeing guys on the corner and just talking to them about well, whatever. (There are no corners out here—just on/off raps and parking lot exits.)

I miss the crooks in City Hall—few things are more entertaining than a Chicago Politician trying to explain why nothing is workin’ the way it’s supposed to.

I miss Comiskey Park. I know its U.S. Cellular, but I still like calling it Comiskey.

I miss Grant Park with that stupid silver Jelly belly lookin’ thing that coast like $5 million to get.

I miss Lincoln Park even. All the ditzy clueless broads tripping along on daddy’s money and their “afraid to go Cermak because the scary black people might get them” attitudes.

I miss Taste of Chicago. Nobody understands Taste of Chicago if you ain’t ever been.

I miss having 5 trains that could covered the entire city (more or less).

I miss my combos—italian sausage and Italian beef sandwiches.

I miss my combos—hot links and rib tips.

I miss my vacant lots.

I miss the south side. And the west side.

I miss State Street. Santa Monica's nice, but it's no State Street.

I miss Halsted and Ashland... and Damen and Cicero and Garfield and Archer...

I miss the CPS's criminally crappy city schools and the unnecessarily nice suburban schools and the stunningly stupid apologists for both.

I miss the paranoid cops--they were dangerous, but oftentimes comical and occasionally helpful.

I miss the fireman... Only Chicago firemen would let you sneak chicks into the firehouse and... uh, nevermind.

I miss the gentrification that everybody swore was never coming to their hood and their reaction once it did.

I miss Chinatown.

I miss the bike path and the lakefront.

I miss the gunfire every night… Okay, not really.

And yeah, I know there’s something out there called an airline ticket, but it’s not the same. Home is home and sometimes you just miss it.