Choose Where It Goes

Photo courtesy of Gratisography

Tuesday, May 5th, 2026

After a thirty hour drive two-thirds of the way across the country, my sailfish made it home. Her name is Charley and she is going to live on the front of my house as the only cold water taxidermied sailfish in existence. 

My cousin gave her to me after having bought her as a prop for a restaurant chain where he used to work outfitting their interiors. He’d been  storing her in my aunt’s basement and I said I wanted her. After more than a year of saying I was coming to get her, here I was, doing just that. A bit of the wind had gone out of my sails about the matter, but I said I would take her and so I am. My aunt is aging and clearing out her home is a top priority.

The absurdity of the fish on my house will be a great reminder of her and my cousin.

To prepare Charley for her journey, I took my mother’s brilliant suggestion to use pool noodles to protect any parts that were particularly fragile. I carved the noodles into specific angles and shapes to protect the sword, all the fins, her tail and the two little whiskers right under her chin. The rest of her was bubble wrapped to protect her paint job.  

I made a soft bed in the back of the vehicle of 20 lbs of shredded memory foam to absorb any bumps and sudden movements along the way. She’ll need a healthy coat of sunscreen to keep her color looking fresh before she heads up the wall.

Prior to going downstate to bundle her up, the trip started with two days of neighborhood scouting in Chicago. My housemate is moving there soon and asked me to show him around. I loved Chicago when I lived there 20 years ago and it has gotten so much better since I left. 

What struck me the most about how much the city cleaned up is that it feels like it strategically invested in itself, in creating communities, and in community pride. Chicago has so many diverse neighborhoods and each one seemed to have a welcoming mural announcing the name of the area and an illustration of some landmark or distinguishing feature. 

The city has put a great deal of effort into making sure the arts are alive and well and easily accessible. Nearly every neighborhood we were in had its own theater - movie, independent, or otherwise. There are several initiatives to get old theaters up and running again. In a time when big tech seems to be taking over everything, investing in the arts feels like an act of rebellion. 

Chicago is the only city I've ever lived in that feels like it cares about the people who live there.

After spending two days in a city that made clear decisions on what was worth taking care of, I went home to pack up a fish and see my family. 

Visiting family gets tougher and tougher… 

Dad is still Dad. He emerged as a surprising pillar of support for me after the break up of my LTR two years ago. It made me see him in a different light. Not one of being difficult for the sake of being so, but as someone who cares so deeply that it can sometimes be expressed as inflexibility. 

We have a lot in common. I’m working on it. 

His health is waning. His mobility is poor, particularly concerning steps. As I walked with him back up to his apartment after dinner, he complained about the open window on his floor “freezing him out” - I didn’t even register it as being cold. When we got into his apartment though, I did notice the heat. He had a space heater going and it was genuinely hot in there.

Dad is not a “hot” person. I remember him keeping the air conditioner going in the studio 24/7/365. He sweats buckets at the drop of a hat. As I was leaving, he said “It’s not going to be long now. It could be six months or six years, who knows.” 

Normally, I would attribute his fatalistic attitude to the fact that his younger brother is dying of brain cancer, but the heat was a huge red flag. I hugged him, told him I loved him, and kissed him on the cheek. And then I said goodbye.

The next morning, I thanked my cousin for all her help and hospitality and I was on my way. I picked up my housemate at the airport where we’d agreed to meet and headed for my uncle’s house. 

My dad’s brother. He has a brain tumor that is not responding well to chemo. I hadn’t seen him in years but made the time to stop by before we hit the road. He was always the favorite uncle. I wanted the opportunity to say hello - and probably goodbye. 

We had a nice conversation. I recognized that he and I have the same funny-bad sense of humor. He talked about how he’s preparing his family to carry on after he’s gone. He taught his son - my cousin - how to do the finances, and introduced his wife to the financial advisor. 

He delights in feeding the squirrels and watching the birds and ducks in his backyard. He talked about his therapist and how he keeps a list in his journal of the “happy event of the day” and that day it was me. It was great to see him. He seemed happy, calm, content and at ease with his mortality at hand. It was hard to say goodbye.

And then we were off. Chicago to North Dakota. North Dakota to Idaho. Idaho to home. I decided early on that I can always make more money, but I can’t make more time. Gas prices be damned. 52 hours with two overnights in cheap motels. 

As we neared the end of our trip, my anxiety started to kick in. Before I left, I bought a house, and now I need to go live in it. And take care of it. Alone. With two dogs, one of which can be a bit of a liability. I started questioning what I’d done. 

There’s no opting out. It’s too late now to pretend I didn’t mean it.

Stay Gritty