Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Chicago Meadows

I dreamt of Chicago again last night.

in a house with your passionate Hybrid American family
a man who skin had been tanned by his ancestors
a woman with glasses crocheting through a magnifying glass.

there were grandmothers and there was a feast and there were sisters.
but you had to go to work so you left me with your kin

and the elders disappeared into their chores

I was left with the younger side of your family
10 of them in a small room and the post-supper ritual:
to retire to the small room and talk
passionately
about the perpetual struggle of
The Unionists vs. The Egrigados.

It was up to me to catch up. To lean into the conversation and glean information about the world they lived in. They talked to themselves and acknowledging me only by asking "Do you understand?"
It was a rhetorical question.

They were all dark skinned and at first I thought they were Philipino,
but when I looked at the banners on the walls and the black and white photographs I was able to deduce that they were Spaniard emigrated to the US. I deduced that this nightly ritual was an attempt to keep the memory of the Spanish Civil War alive. They were Unionists. Urban working class, factory workers. The hated Egrigados were farmers.

I felt a little lost because I don't know anything about the Spanish Civil War except that it was a romantic cause that many non-Spaniards invested their lives in on both sides. But despite my ignorance of detail, I was engaged by their pure passion.

I still don't know how they could be your family. I thought you were Irish in blood and thoroughly yankee in your culture. There were no pictures of you anywhere.

There were three bottles of liquour on a side cart but nobody was drinking.
Was that a test?
To see how I would react to the alcohol? I was waiting for someone to pour? Was it my place to start pouring for everyone else?

Then three of the men (your cousins?) left and the conversation fell apart and I was left alone pacing... pacing... pacing...

And then one of your sisters (who was blonde) asked me what was wrong and I said I wanted to see Chicago. I had been pacing the room looking for windows and there were none. I needed a window so I could know which way was North, South, East, West. And she told me I could do as I wished. I said I knew that and I wanted to go for a walk but I couldn't find a door. So she led to me a door and took me outside and that's where I saw that Chicago was a very green place. The boulevards and promenades were covered with lawn and bordered by fountains. There was no concrete. There were meadows on long hills.

And when I saw the fountains I started to cry. Your sister asked me what was wrong and I said I didn't know
and I told her that I had dreamt of Chicago before and I told her about the dream I had with the two hills and how nothing in that dream was anything like this dream except for the fountains. The fountains were there. And the fountains were making me cry.

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