BY ANDREW MORKES, FOUNDER & AUTHOR OF THE “NATURE IN CHICAGOLAND” BLOG
Life equals change, but several developments lately have reinforced that fact. A few thoughts on these transitions.
Cicadas
In the last two weeks, the 17-year Brood XIII has emerged in backyards, parks, forest preserves, and other areas across Chicagoland. But its presence varies greatly across the region. In my Chicago northwest side neighborhood of Jefferson Park, there were more cardinals in my yard than cicadas until recently. Meh. But last weekend, I saw the exoskeletons of the equivalent of a football team or so hanging from my backyard plants. Better. But it was not until I returned to Beverly last Monday to compete in the 5K Ridge Run, spend time with good friends, and visit my mom, that I was able to experience the Chicagoland cicada apocalypse. Wow!
Living cicadas and cicada exoskeletons coated the trees, plants, and the occasional park bench and street sign like a second skin. There were piles of cicadas on the ground, and there was a persistent hum in the air as we readied for the race in my ancestral home on Chicago’s far south side.
As a nature lover, this cicada emergence—takeover—was wonderful, awe-inspiring, and beautiful. Seeing and hearing thousands of cicadas, and occasionally holding a few, made me very happy that humans have not disrupted every natural cycle with our pollution, concrete sprawl, and occasional fear of nature that prompts us to try to kill or control every creature that we see unless it’s adorably cute, endangered, and/or beautiful. It’s rare in built up areas that any creature can simply overwhelm a place as the cicadas have over the last few weeks. And it’s heartening to see nature’s cycles continue. The cicadas get to do their thing, humans experience some joy and wonder, and the environment benefits. A win-win-win.
The latest visit from the 17-year cicadas made me think about the past and where I was and what I was doing during each 17-year cycle. I’m old enough to have been alive for three cycles of Brood XIII.
In 1973, I was about four when Brood XIII emerged. I have few memories of this age, but I do remember loving to play in our big backyard. I like to think that I was fascinated by the cicadas then and played with them, but it’s enough to know that I love them now.
In 1990, I was a college student at Loyola University studying creative writing, had not met my future wife, and still lived in Beverly. I was 20 years old, and I remember how the cicadas were piled so high on the sidewalks that we used snow shovels to clear them. My dad was alive then, and I have fond memories of sitting in the backyard talking with him, but having to pause occasionally because the cicada song was so loud in our leafy backyard. I remember making an audio recording on a cassette tape of the buzz of the cicadas. I wish I could find it.
In 2007, I’d only lived in Jefferson Park for two years after residing in Lakeview for four years after getting married. I still had my business office on Lincoln Avenue, had traveled with my wife and friends to Israel and Jordan earlier in the year, and we were dreaming of having our first child. We lived in a condo at the time, so no back yard in which to enjoy them. Given the dearth of cicadas in Jefferson Park, I’m guessing 2007 was like 2024 here.
In 2041, I’ll be 71! . . . I don’t even want to think about that, so I won’t try to imagine what I’ll be doing when Brood XIII reemerges.
Enjoy these harmless (except to tender plants) and beautiful insects while they last. And be thankful that they provide food for birds and other animals and enrich the soil with their decaying bodies and exoskeleton husks. Nature is awesome when we leave it alone and give it a chance to do what it’s done for time immemorial.
Slow 5Ks
I used to be a fast runner. Not an elite runner, but I’ve completed a mile in less than 6 minutes and a 5K (3.1 miles) in about 26 minutes. I was a wrestler and intramural soccer player in high school, but some of the athletes on other sports teams would watch me do sprints in gym and urge me to join the track or cross-country team. I loved the compliments, but I never took their advice. I liked to run on my own. It was my Zen place, and I didn’t need a coach yelling in my ear about my form or endurance level.
I loved the endorphin high of running and the solitude of moving quickly through the landscape. Depending on my life stage, I’d get up at sunrise (high school) or wait till the cool of the evening (20s and early 30s) to first run atop the Blue Island Ridge on Seeley Avenue in Beverly from 107th to 95th and sometimes further north before heading back south along bucolic Longwood Avenue amidst the towering trees and mansions on the hill. I loved looking at the homes and dreaming of one day living in one of them. It was a wonderful feeling to be strong and fast and run in the summer twilight, the birds singing but slowly settling down for the night, the cicadas revving up their song, and a cooling summer night breeze blowing from the top of the hills. I felt powerful and eternal as I ran through the gentle night breezes. I loved listening to Moby’s “Porcelain,” jazz by John Coltrane and Miles Davis, and other music as I ran. Like a lot of young people, I thought that life would never change. But change should be expected, although many, including myself at times, fear change.
I ran the Memorial Day 5K Ridge Run on Monday. It was fun to run on the hills and streets of my younger days. I lived in Beverly until I was age 31 and each block I traversed conjured many powerful memories. But I’m no longer fast (or even fast-ish). My 5K time was 44:08 (14:12/mile average), and I finished 683 out of 763 registered runners. The fastest 54-year-old (my age) finished in 28:34. A humbling comparison. My rising 5K times have frustrated me over the past decade, but as I’ve aged, I’m becoming more accepting of this and other changes—especially the negative kind.
In my youth, I ran quickly without stopping for breaks—whether I’d trained or not. Sometimes I’d have a beer or two with dinner and then run fast and long shortly thereafter. But no more. After years of vowing to train and run more regularly, I shouldn’t be surprised at my recent race results because I haven’t run more than 5 minutes at a time in training since last year (due to a few health issues, including sore knees). I fast-walk about two miles a day on the treadmill, although that’s not the same as running. And running indoors is definitely not equal to running outside on the pavement. I also walked half the race and jogged or sprinted the rest of the time. I occasionally stopped to take photos and savor the festive atmosphere of the day—Springsteen’s “Born to Run” blaring from radios on people’s lawns, an old man dressed like Uncle Sam holding a baby, and people at the edge of the race course ringing cowbells and encouraging us on. An Abe Lincoln lookalike usually walks the sidewalks along the race course, but not this year.
But, finally, I’ve come to accept in my 55th birthday year, that I’ll probably never run that fast again—unless, that is, I enjoy fewer beers and pie slices and increase my exercise rate.
In the past year or so, I’ve finally realized that I’m no longer 30 (which is the imaginary age I’ve settled on in my head) and that it’s okay to be slow. Another life transition—accepting aging. I’ll certainly continue to train to run a complete race (rather than walking part of it) and improve my finish times, but I’m also okay with not hitting my 20-something running peaks again. I love setting and striving for goals. But it’s time to set realistic ones—such as matching the 5K finish times of my 45-year-old self.
But in those few-minute spurts I flew down Longwood Drive at top speed, I was young again with my future completely ahead of me. I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you that it felt great!
American Flag
I wore an old, red Ridge Run shirt to this week’s race. It has an American flag on it and it’s the most-comfortable of my many Ridge Run shirts.
An older man caught up with me as we raced and said, “Nice shirt!” I said thanks and glanced over at him and saw that he wore an identical shirt. I laughed and said, “You, too!,” and he responded, “I like it because it has an American flag on it.” I agreed, and we kept running.
But after the race, I wondered what version of the American flag he loved. Was he someone like me who loves democracy and the rule of law; hates book bans, efforts to erase stories of America’s racism and discrimination from the history books, and idiotic culture wars; and has a general attitude of live and let live unless you’re hurting someone else? Or was his version one of an illiberal democracy that longed for a strongman to return to power—or a weak big talker, in my view, who seems to have broken every moral code that’s ever existed in a civilized society. Did this man adhere to a version of the flag in which it was okay to storm our nation’s capital and threaten to hang our elected officials because people fell for a factually disproven lie that the 2020 presidential election was stolen? One in which hate, anger, a mindset of perpetual grievance, self-interest, and an anti-science mindset seem to be the fuel that powers trumpism? Boy, that’s not the flag that I respect.
We’re at another transition point in the U.S., in which our democracy is teetering and at risk of falling into strongman rule. Democratic systems are being twisted to meet nefarious goals and disinformation is being sprayed from social media and Fox News and other quasi-journalistic entities at a pace that’s reaching Noah flood levels. There’s something truly wrong with this country when the wife of one Supreme Court justice has been tied to the debunked Stop the Steal Movement and another justice flies the American flag upside down outside his house, which is a symbol of the Stop the Steal movement (but blames his wife and can’t be man enough to accept responsibility for his stupid decision). The presidential election in November will be a defining moment in this country’s history, and I hope you love the same flag that I do and vote.
And, while I’m at it, we need to lose the different colored American flags that represent various special interest groups (political and nonpolitical). I resent the co-opting of our national unifying symbol by groups that I don’t always agree with. Perhaps agreeing to fly just our official flag would be a start at uniting us rather than trying to split us apart.
I didn’t think of these thoughts on race day. I still have faith in a slim majority of Americans, and I’d like to think this runner was on the same philosophical path toward a better America that I walk (or, ideally, run) on. So, I simply smiled and continued on my way toward the finish line. My 13-year-old son and his friend had already finished the race, and I was looking forward to hearing about their experiences on the course.
enjoying a Last School Walk With My Son
Speaking of my son, it was his last week in 8th grade, and he graduated on Friday night. In these last months of 8th grade, it’s been a strange juxtaposition dropping off my 5 foot 10 inch son at school and watching him walk past all the wees ones in the lower grades. The 8th graders like to joke that they’re just being warehoused for the last few months, and that they’re not really learning anything. I’m sure they’ve learned some things, but also enjoying the experience as kings and queens of the school, newfound freedoms given to them by their parents, and savoring special events such as a ribbon ceremony, dance, field trip to a nature adventure area, and luncheon; being clapped out on their last day of school; and graduation (it was a beautiful night of celebration for 20 hardworking kids). A lot more will be expected of them in high school (I hope they know that), and this last month or so of 8th grade served as a victory lap and a time for them to learn a few more things (like the financial literacy lessons they hopefully took to heart in math class), but also enjoy themselves. I’m proud of these kids (I mean teens), many of whom I’ve watched grow from kindergarten and first graders into young adulthood. I’m very proud of my son who has turned into a kind boy who, this week, made zucchini bread for his favorite teachers at school, who has the quick-wit of a comedian, and who is growing in confidence and grace, with the occasional smart-aleck response thrown in like any young teen.
Throughout his years at school, I’ve walked with him to school on some days because I need the exercise (after all, I ran a 44:08 5K . . . ugh) and because I like to spend time with him. I say goodbye to him and then walk and run about two miles each day. (He walks home from school alone each day.)
Our walk only lasts 10 minutes, but I’ve loved our conversations that have covered topics ranging from lighthearted school or home events to deep-thinking exchanges about serious issues in the world. Our walks have provided me with companionship and a great glimpse into what’s going on in my son’s life and how he thinks about the world. I’ll be honest, on some days there’s more silence than words and, on others, Pokémon Go, is the topic (or activity) du jour.
Regardless, I’ve treasured our walks. On Friday, we took our last walk to school. Although it was our last walk, it really felt like any other walk day, although he carried a bucket filled with cleaning supplies to spiff up the school (I thought we paid tuition for this!) and a bunch of carefully wrapped zucchini bread loaves and gift cards to give to his teachers. We walked, we occasionally talked, he made me carry the bucket at times so he could play Pokémon Go, and then we said our goodbyes. I lingered to watch him stride through the door into school, but he walked fast amidst the rush of other kids and parents, and I barely caught a glimpse of him heading in.
My wife and I have both deeply enjoyed watching our son grow into a happy (hopefully) teen who has served his church by playing Joseph in the Christmas pageant and being an altar server (for the past five years), as well as achieving by winning an award at a statewide science fair, being asked by his classmates to be in the court at the church’s May Crowning event, enjoying regular residency on the high or regular honor roll, and excelling at Tae Kwan Do. But, like most parents, we’re sad to watch the years go by and feel nostalgic for the early days of his childhood.
But transitions occur throughout life, and we must get used to them all—both positive and negative. This one’s a positive.
I took my last walk to school with my son and he graduated on Friday. We won’t be walking to school again, but we’ll “walk” together to other places in life. I look forward to creating new traditions with him as he moves through high school and college and becomes an adult. I’m so proud of him.
Copyright (text/photos): Andrew Morkes
Looking for some great nature destinations in Chicagoland? If so, check out my book, Nature in Chicagoland: More Than 120 Fantastic Nature Destinations That You Must Visit. It features amazing destinations in Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, and Wisconsin. Click on the title to learn more. The book has 306 pages and 210+ photos and is only $18.99. Nature in Chicagoland received great reviews in the Chicago Sun-Times, Chicago Tribune, Daily Southtown, This Week in Birding blog, and Beverly Review.
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ABOUT ANDREW MORKES
I have been a writer and editor for nearly 30 years. I’m the founder of College & Career Press (2002); the author and publisher of “The Morkes Report: College and Career Planning Trends” blog; and the author and publisher of Hot Health Care Careers: 30 Occupations With Fast Growth and Many New Job Openings; Nontraditional Careers for Women and Men: More Than 30 Great Jobs for Women and Men With Apprenticeships Through PhDs; They Teach That in College!?: A Resource Guide to More Than 100 Interesting College Majors, which was selected as one of the best books of the year by the library journal Voice of Youth Advocates; and other titles. They Teach That in College!? provides more information on environmental- and sustainability-related majors such as Ecotourism, Range Management, Renewable Energy, Sustainability and the Built Environment, Sustainability Studies, and Sustainable Agriculture/Organic Farming. I’m also a member of the parent advisory board at my son’s school.
In addition to these publications, I’ve written more than 60 books about careers for other publishing and media companies including Infobase (such as the venerable Encyclopedia of Careers & Vocational Guidance, the Vault Career Guide to Accounting, and many volumes in the Careers in Focus, Discovering Careers, What Can I Do Now?!, and Career Skills Library series) and Mason Crest (including those in the Careers in the Building Trades and Cool Careers in Science series).
Here’s a list of the environmental-focused titles that I’ve written:
- Nature in Chicagoland: More Than 120 Fantastic Nature Destinations That You Must Visit
- Wind Turbine Technicians (Great Careers Without a Bachelor’s Degree series)
- Environmental Scientists (Cool Careers in Science series)
- Renewable Energy Careers (Cool Careers in Science series)
- Environment (Getting Started series)
- Solar Power Technicians (Careers in Infrastructure series)