Reflections - "Through My Eyes: More Questions than Answers"

By Meghan Lichte
It feels more like autumn than spring. Walking outside is not all that pleasant yet. I wanted to go outside and have something clever to say, like: as the tourists return so do the homeless. Instead, I was presented with the blustering winds of change on our city’s most celebrated avenue. Michigan Avenue as I saw it a month ago, covered in snow and black slush, has revived itself once again into the tourist haven it’s known to be.

As I tooled across the street into Millennium Park, I searched high and low for a homeless person but security seems to do its job by keeping out the wackos—except those pesky tourists. I passed two women with Northface fleece coats on and a funny accent that asked if I would take a photo for them. I took the camera and thought, wow, this is not my assignment and although tourist is nice, I would prefer to avoid people who take the city in such vapid terms as Millennium Park and Michigan Avenue.

Nevertheless, I went into the Park and found the ice rink, which as far as I remembered was overflowing with people ice skating laughing at their mistakes as they fell on the glistening winter ice. But now this winter haven of hot chocolate fun is a bland space occupying prime real estate. There is still a miniature pile of snow chilling just outside the rink, and I wondered if it was real—I mean, we had a really warm day last week. How could it survive? But I chalked it up to the city emptying the ice rink.

From the rink, I looked over and saw a bus ejecting two men from its yawning mouth. They did not look as if they were here for a long time, just a good time. They both had funny blue puffy jackets on, and one had a cane, the other, glasses.

I had so many errant questions. Questions about things that do not apply to me whatsoever. Like, who are these guys and what brought them together? Were they loved? Did they have anything to look forward to at the beginning of each day? Were they getting ready to go forget their lives at the bar? Or were they going home to their wives and children for a wholesome supper?

Why do I care?