There's something to be said for perfect weather. Best place I've ever been in the United States was San Diego, California. Nearly perfect all the time. Having lived in Florida, I can say that Florida weather is nowhere near perfect. Not even close. In fact I'd say, horrible. So why am I in Chicago? Family, friends, the fear of dying alone in a nursing home staffed by bitter and unsympathetic Haitian nurses. It was about ten years ago that I realized that would be my fate if I stayed in Florida. But the weather in Chicago can be challenging. Bitter cold, cold, less cold, and then summer. Sunday it arrived. Nothing makes you appreciate the onset of warm weather more than a Chicago winter. It got me all fired up. So Sunday I planted nasturtium all along the fence, planted Mark's dahlias across the back of the house, rebuilt the little brick wall that keeps the dogs out of the tomato patch, and then I dragged the barbeque grill out of the garage. I grilled up a bunch of bratwurst, filling the neighborhood with the sweet aroma of charcoal smoke and burnt meat. Ahh.. summer.. er, I mean springtime.
I got another bit of news over the weekend that actually made me happy. My friend Rudy, who is in his nineties now, called and told me that he's moving back to Chicago from Florida. At his age everybody he knew is now dead or moved away, and he's pretty much all alone down there. Like I said, that fear of living your last years in a nursing home far away from friends and family trumps weather any day.