PaperGirl Blog by Mary Fons

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5 Jun 2017

Women Smiling.

by Mary | posted in: Chicago, Day In The Life, Luv, Paean | 12

Walking through and around the Chicago Loop and its immediate vicinity makes me feel connected and strong. I want to walk here for a long time.

I see many beautiful things: a group of teenagers cavorting in front of a 7-Eleven, their youth crackling in the air; a seagull, flown in all the way from the lake, perched on a sign for the Washington Blue line station; the sun when it dips behind a Willis Tower. The city flowers in their planters. The cornices of the Harold Washington Library. Women smiling to themselves.

This last one keeps coming up.

Lately, I have seen many women in the Loop who are up to something good. They’re smiling like they’re in love. Or lust. Perhaps it’s their spouse. Maybe a new lover. Maybe it’s just a crush. (“Just”!) Maybe they’re smiling about last night — or this morning. Without question, it’s good.

It happened again this afternoon. I was walking east on Van Buren toward State. At the front of the crowd of people coming from the other direction was a woman, about my age, Korean, I think, smiling to herself. I glanced at her as we passed each other. She did not notice me at all because she was not particularly aware of anyone, or even that she was walking on Van Buren Street in Chicago. She was somewhere else, thinking about someone. It was obvious, even in the 2.2 seconds I had to read her face.

Maybe she was thinking about a text message or a flirt session with the object of her desire/affection. I’d like to think the corner of her mouth went up because she thought about she got the best kiss of her life this weekend.

Whatever it was, it was fresh. Nostalgia is not present in the smiles I’m seeing. These are the quiet, beautiful smiles of women — ranging in age, ethnicity, and physical appearance — in whom spring fever has manifested. I guess. That’s got to be part of it, right? There are countless ways to smile, countless reasons. What I’m seeing is particular.

Part of my happiness in witnessing this phenomenon is understanding how they feel. I’ve been that woman. I’m not right now, and I can say sincerely that it’s okay. I’ll be that woman again. As sure as the El curls to the west at Lake; as sure as the pigeons love the red Calder sculpture outside the post office on Dearborn; as sure as my tea in the morning, I’ll be walking through the Loop someday soon with my head in the clouds and a smile on my lips because of him.

It’s exciting, really. All that love on the way.

4 Jun 2017

I’m Hittin’ The Airwaves! (WGN 720 AM Tonight!)

by Mary | posted in: Chicago, Work | 6

The station looks different now. But it's every bit as glamorous! Photo: Wikipedia. — The station looks different now. But it’s every bit as glamorous! Photo: Wikipedia.

In a few minutes, here, I’ll walk up the real-life Michigan Avenue to the real-life Tribune Tower to sit in the real-life spinny chairs in the real-life ground floor radio studio and be a real-life guest on Rick Kogan’s radio show!

The “real-life” qualifier has to be stuck in there to keep me from thinking I’m dreaming because the following things are beyond dreamy to me:

Michigan Avenue
The Tribune Tower
Spinny chairs (well, this one isn’t that special but still special!)
Radio studio
Being a guest on a radio show

Rick Kogan is a Chicago broadcasting legend and I get to be on his show tonight. The show is from 9-11 p.m. I’m not sure when I’ll come on, if I’ll be on for a little while or a long while. But I’m gonna talk about quilts and stuff and if you want to listen, WGN is at 720 on the AM dial. I think the show will be streamed online but I don’t know how so I can’t link you! It might get posted later.

It has just occurred to me that I don’t know if I will get a copy of this after it’s over. Maybe that’s okay. Maybe it’ll just be a dream come true and then I’ll wake up.

Tune in if you can. See ya on the radio!

Postscript: Here’s the link to the show. It was so, so fun. I adore Rick Kogan and you’ll see why. Looks like he’s gonna do a follow-up article and have me back real soon. Hurray!

3 Jun 2017

London Bridge.

by Mary | posted in: Uncategorized | 45

London Bridge is falling down,
Falling down, falling down.
London Bridge is falling down,
My fair lady.

London Bridge is broken down,
Broken down, broken down.
London Bridge is broken down,
My fair lady.

Build it up with wood and clay,
Wood and clay, wood and clay,
Build it up with wood and clay,
My fair lady.

Wood and clay will wash away,
Wash away, wash away,
Wood and clay will wash away,
My fair lady.

Build it up with bricks and mortar,
Bricks and mortar, bricks and mortar,
Build it up with bricks and mortar,
My fair lady.

Bricks and mortar will not stay,
Will not stay, will not stay,
Bricks and mortar will not stay,
My fair lady.

Build it up with iron and steel,
Iron and steel, iron and steel,
Build it up with iron and steel,
My fair lady.

Iron and steel will bend and bow,
Bend and bow, bend and bow,
Iron and steel will bend and bow,
My fair lady.

Build it up with silver and gold,
Silver and gold, silver and gold,
Build it up with silver and gold,
My fair lady.

Silver and gold will be stolen away,
Stolen away, stolen away,
Silver and gold will be stolen away,
My fair lady.

Set a man to watch all night,
Watch all night, watch all night,
Set a man to watch all night,
My fair lady.

Suppose the man should fall asleep,
Fall asleep, fall asleep,
Suppose the man should fall asleep?
My fair lady.

Give him a pipe to smoke all night,
Smoke all night, smoke all night,
Give him a pipe to smoke all night,
My fair lady.

Postscript: It seems some people are not understanding the somber tone with which I post these lyrics. I didn’t want to explain it because I thought the message would come across and the doleful image would set the tone for it. I was wrong, it appears, in some cases. The very notion that I would make fun or post a trivial song in light of the London tragedy is absurd and offensive.

I’m trying to stay calm, here.

These full lyrics to London Bridge to me, echo the despair I’m feeling over the spate of terrorist attacks in the world of late. “London Bridge is falling down,” “Build it up, tear it down,” “Suppose the man should fall asleep?” and the other lyrics in the song echo the hopelessness I feel, the futility of fighting people who will end their lives in order to end others. I am furious. I am furious and inconsolable.

I can accept if the sentiment didn’t read. Writing is hard. But I would hope my readers know me better than to post a nursery rhyme when people have died. Have you ever bristled at being so misunderstood? I hope you never are. That is all.

— The Management.

2 Jun 2017

Fun Facts: Dallas Edition

by Mary | posted in: Travel, Work | 7

Postcard from Dallas, 1911. It looks pretty much the same. Image: Wikipedia.

Greetings from Dallas, where the hair is big and the BBQ is burnt on the ends. As I am a gal who would do anything for Texas-big hair and would climb over my own mother to get to a plate of burnt ends, Texas suits me fine. (Sorry about the burnt end thing, Mom.)

I’m here to teach and speak at the Dallas Quilter’s Guild show this weekend. It’s a big one and, since I need to get up extra early tomorrow to try and get my hair as big as possible before leaving the hotel, I’m going to keep things simple and make tonight’s post a list. Besides, when I thought of doing this, a super-quick check on “fun facts about Dallas” yielded terrific results right away.

And now, I give you: FUN FACTS ABOUT DALLAS!!!

The frozen margarita machine was invented in Dallas in 1971. (What goes better with burnt ends, amirite??)
The entire Statue of Liberty could fit into Cowboys Stadium — with the roof closed.
The Dallas Public Library permanently displays one of the original copies of the Declaration of Independence. How about that. (They’ve got a First Folio of William Shakespeare’s “Comedies, Histories & Tragedies”, too. Neat.)
My dad is an ordained Methodist minister who graduated from Dallas Theological Seminary (DTS) sometime in the 1990s, I believe.
The Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport spans 27 square miles — larger than the island of freakin’ Manhattan.
Barney & Friends was born here. In other words, Barney was born here. Also born in Dallas: Laser Tag, Liquid Paper (a.k.a. white-out), the ATM, microchips, and lots of other stuff. Oh, and the frozen margarita machine. See No. 1.
The Holiday Inn Dallas-Richardson is very nice. My room is clean and the bathroom is spacious.
The Dallas Arts District is the largest urban arts district in the United States. I think that’s cool.
I saw the chick who shot J.R. in the parking lot.

*CORRECTION: In the initial publication of this post, Pendennis referred to “the guy who shot J.R.” when in fact it was a female who shot J.R., which, now that we think about it, makes sense. We regret the error.

1 Jun 2017

Song For Spring.

by Mary | posted in: Poetry, Rant | 7

"Springtime" by Claude Monet, 1871. Image: Wikipedia. — “Springtime” by Claude Monet, 1871. Image: Wikipedia.

Memorial Day is often referred to as “the unofficial first day of summer.” Memorial Day was Monday and I suppose there is a sense of a changing of the guard, seasonally-speaking, but the actual first day of summer isn’t until June 20th. Seeing as it’s only the first of the month, we are very much still in spring. Officially.

I’m in no rush: Spring is my favorite season. The world gets washed in spring and after winter, we sorely need it. The smell of wet leaves, soaked garden beds, damp bark — that loamy, vegetal smell makes my heart break. I welcome the breaking. All over the city, the flowers are tender explosions that line the slicked streets and I don’t care that my sandals squish as I walk along. I’m alive.

On the way to the airport at 5 a.m. last weekend, riding the El, you cannot believe the sky I saw. A storm was coming in from the west making the sky a deep sapphire blue, almost purple around the edges. But the sun was coming up over the lake behind us and suddenly, all the metal storage warehouse buildings along the Orange line route were bathed in gold, dripping with the gold light of that early spring sun. The dark heaven behind them threw each bright square into even sharper relief. It took my breath away. Not even Monet could’ve captured what I saw through my train window. Only spring can deliver that kind of beauty in the first place.

Spring has a good reputation. It’s been known to inspire all kinds of things. Lovers. Poetry. Music. Hope.

If you need any of those things, if you need to rely on any of Spring’s gifts — pea shoots, caterpillars, rhubarb pie, breezes singing through your bedroom window, peonies — you can. Spring told me.

Officially.

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