Moscow Posts

Immigrants Get the Jobs Done


I stopped at the concierge desk. It was nearly 8 p.m. and we had not yet had dinner. “Where’s a good place to get pizza?” I asked.

“Giordano’s,” he replied.

“Is it far?”

“No, easy. Three blocks up to Michigan and then three blocks up to Randolph.”

“Where are you from?” I asked, responding to his thick accent.

I ask everyone in Chicago where they are from because almost everyone has an accent. The Uber driver who picked me up from the airport was from Kakistan. He’s earned his Bachelor’s degree in Moscow and is currently working on his Masters degree at DePaul.  The Lyft driver who took us from the library presentation to our hotel grew up in Mexico. “I was homeless as a child,” he said, explaining that he had a troubled mother. It is for those reasons, he has never smoked, never drank. His Muslim faith enables him to heal from all that childhood trauma. read more

Between Moscow & Death Star


I don’t do cold weather, y’all.

I mean like really. I don’t.

Give me a sweltering day, a big old thunderstorm, a tornado even, I can handle all that. I know how to make do. Just please don’t abandon me to the frozen tundra.

Most people think of hell as a fiery lake. I think of it as a frozen one.

It’s 15 degrees out this morning. Our high today is expected to reach 24. We’ve had weeks of a landscape of whiteness already. It’s like living inside of a snow globe – I don’t move until something shakes me. A dog that needs out. A doorbell ringing. The urge to pee that cannot be denied any longer. read more