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Or at least that's my excuse for not updating this diary very often lately. But I'll try to babble a bit anyway, however incoherently. Today I took the bus downtown so I could have lunch at the Merchandise Mart. I usually take the train if I want to go there, because it stops right at the door and I can walk right into the building and into the food court from the platform, but I just didn't feel like dealing with the "El" today. And I'm glad I did, even though it meant walking several blocks after I deboarded the bus. My walk took me right past the recently-completed Trump Tower, now the second-tallest building in Chicago (and in North America, for that matter). The skyscraper was all sleek and shiny, reflecting the sunlight, and I was absolutely awestruck! This is the first time I've seen it up close, on foot, and I couldn't stop gawking like a tourist. What a magnificent building! I felt a newly-revived sense of civic pride to be living in Chicago at a time when the city has never looked so good. Although this photo doesn't really do it justice, you can view Chicago's newest supertall here. Now I'm finding myself wondering if the Chicago Spire will ever be built. ~~~~~~~~~When I got home, a man in the hallway on my floor asked me for help. I'd seen him around before, and recognized him as the son of the elderly lady who lives down the hall from me. He had given her his old television set and was trying to figure out how to set it up for her... it needed to be on Channel 4 in order for the RCN cable service to work, but he just had a blank blue screen and couldn't get a picture. Well, I'm the worst person in the world to ask for help with electronics, but I followed him into the apartment and tried to help anyway. Somehow, by pushing one button after another on the console panel, he got the picture to come on and it was on the right channel. So all was good. He asked me how long I'd lived here. I told him I'd been in the building for 14 years, but in my current unit for only two years. Then he told me his mother was probably one of the longest tenants in the building, having been here over 30 years (the building is about 35 years old). His parents had moved in together, but his mother had been widowed since then. He then told me she had a birthday coming up and that she was about to turn 97 years old! I gasped. I had no idea. I'd thought she was maybe 80 or so. Except for her having ambulatory problems (she uses a walker and/or a cane), you wouldn't even think she was that old. One day last week when I arrived home and had gotten off the elevator, I noticed she was in the hallway ahead of me, heading toward her apartment. Just as I was coming up behind her, I heard her exclaim, "Oh, shit!" Here she had a plastic Ziploc bag full of fresh raw green beans some friend had given her, she thought the bag was sealed shut when it wasn't, and her green beans fell out of the bag and all over the floor! I stopped and picked them up for her, for which she was very grateful. ~~~~~~~~~Speaking of 90-somethings, I tried to phone my Aunt Carol tonight, twice, but there was no answer. Johann called me over the weekend and left a message, just to make sure I hadn't misplaced Aunt Carol's number, and said she's very anxious to hear from me. She also said Aunt Carol has been sick with pneumonia, and because of that she might not have been in the room if I'd tried to call. I need to try and reach her as soon as possible, and maybe schedule a visit to Ohio to see her without delay. Pneumonia... At her great age, that's scary. I hope she's not checking out just quite yet. Not before I've had a chance to reconnect with her.
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