Cream on the Weekends

One of the most important things I’ve read in recent memory is the poem ‘If’ by Rudyard Kipling.

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;

If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

It was written in the late 19th century with stoic precision by Kipling as a prescription for manhood from father to son. It’s hard to pick out a favorite line when there seems to be so much relevance in each couplet, but my favorite theme is hands down resilience. I mean if you could tell your son only a few words that he would have to carry with him for the rest of his life, what would they be?

There are so many storms in life that come out of nowhere, that challenge your beliefs and your values and it’s so important to recognize that they’re temporary. Resilience isn’t about finally extinguishing problems or winning a tough challenge. Resilience is having the grit and the fortitude to carry on, long after your nerve and heart and sinew are gone. At the end of your rope, you find more rope. Resilience is working in a smelly motor winding shop for 32 years when you can barely speak English. Resilience is driving across town at 6:30am for five years despite prostate cancer and a weak heart to take your grandson to school. Resilience is knowing that you are more than the toxic house you grew up in and earnestly believing the home you build will have love in its foundation.

The risk profile of a 23 year old should be a lot more daring than that of a 70 year old, which makes sense, there’s a lot of time to make up for any errors that can happen in the 47 years to come. One of the struggles I face is the idea that I can lose ground from where I already am. The thought that I might make less money or have to give up some of my standard of living against my own wishes is enough to make me risk averse. Per Kipling’s prescription, I should be able to make one heap of all your winnings and risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, but I can’t help but feel like I would breathe a lot of words about my loss.

It’s that time of year again.

I wish I could say this is the simplest thing to do: pack up your life in a small car, rented or borrowed, and ship yourself a few blocks north. I spent way too long looking for a place but I think it will have paid off. After centering my search around the usual suspects like Zillow, Apartments.com, HotPads, I found a real gem by using ye’ old Craigslist in a sleeper pick of a neighborhood. I was fortunate to find the perfect dump in the high rent district of Lincoln Park. Starting in June I’ll be close to the intersection of Diversey and Clark where there’s plenty to do and options for green grass are abundant.

I’m very happy for the developer who recently erected several overpriced six flats in front of my current home. No one was enjoying those trees and the view of the Chicago skyline was much too pretty for me to look at. I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same if presented the opportunity.

This new apartment is going to be a lot of fun – at least in my definition of fun. I’m looking forward to the exercise in ~~cheapness~~ frugality I’m about to undergo. I have in my lease that I’m supposed to maintain a 50 degree farenheit setpoint, which in all honesty is fair. Whether or not the electric baseboard heat or wood burning chiminea are up for the challenge is another story. Likely they will be more than ready to maintain my new home’s aging pipes with no problem, they’ll just demand I donate more to ComEd.

I’m looking forward to the aroma in the hallway that the leasing agent assured me was someone making homemade kimchi and not fermenting garbage. It’ll be nice to be welcomed home by the neighbors dinner, regardless of if it was last weeks or tonight’s kimchi.

All in all, this move is unique in that it will mark the first time I’ll be on my ownsome lonesome. I’ve read that living alone is when you really figure out who you are. Which to me is fascinating, I wonder why we don’t all just start out that way. Hopefully there’ll be enough space for my bookshelves far away enough from my chiminea, because that’d be a difficult claim to make through my renters insurance.

Stay tuned for more updates.

-Nik