From SSC Student Anne-Marie Kennedy:
I’m setting TiVo to tape It’s Thanksgiving Charlie Brown and thinking about gifts: getting them, giving them, good gifts, bad gifts, and the little twists of fate that are gifts-in-disguise, for which I’m most thankful of all.
Last spring, my husband celebrated our 5th wedding anniversary by sending me away. To another state. He’d asked me for gift ideas (we gave up trying to surprise each other long ago and now rely on blunt instructions: get me this. It’s not romantic, but it saves time in the shopping and cuts down on the returning) and I told him there was something he could get me. I wanted to attend Story Studio’s annual writer’s retreat, a weekend in New Buffalo, MI. Done.
At the retreat, I met Jill. I’d taken two courses at SSC, but didn’t really know her except by name, and that SSC was her creation. It was a rare treat, to be holed up in a comfortable cabin for 48 hours with a dozen other smart, supportive writers– like camp, minus the bugs. When the group wasn’t writing, or listening, or reading, eating or workshopping, we happily traded stories about our day jobs, families and friends. I commiserated with other freelancers about the ups and downs of self-employment.
A few weeks later, before class, Jill handed me a post-it note with a name and phone number. “This woman is looking for someone to do some copywriting and editing. I thought you might be interested.” Of course I was. (Did I mention the ups and downs of freelancing?)
The woman, having no connection to SSC, but figuring she’d find a writer there, worked for the Chicago Architecture Foundation (you know, the architectural boat tours, Devil in the White City tours, and now, segue tours). They needed help with the very exciting project of “jazzing up” the annual report. No problem. Not the most exciting assignment, but who looks a gift-horse in the mouth?
The Chicago Architecture Foundation is a nonprofit, dedicated to advancing public interest in architecture and design, specifically Chicago’s architecture and design. They are the go-to organization Mayor Daley relies on to showcase our city when members of the International Olympic Committee come to town. An army of docents lead 150,000 tours each year. These folks are passionate about architecture and design, and so devoted to the art form and its role in our city, they happily train via a specially-designed program that requires hundreds of hours of course- and field-work before they’re considered qualified to educate the public on what is arguably one of the world’s finest living museums. Which they do for free, as volunteers.
Like my new writer-friends from the retreat, these folks could talk for hours about their beloved art form, discussing the latest contributions, arguing their passions.
I didn’t expect inspiration to come from editing the CAF’s annual report, but one late night as I was consulting my “Elements of Style”, an image popped into my head. I saw the ghosts of Frank Lloyd Wright and Louis Sullivan, sitting in back row on the upper deck of a boat tour, listening to a CAF docent educate her tour group:
“Wright is known to have said,” the docent tells her charges, “’A doctor can bury his mistakes, but an architect can only advise his client to plant vines.’ “
“Hogwash, I never said such a thing,” says Wright, turning indignantly to Sullivan.
“You most certainly did,” says Sullivan, “I remember distinctly—“
“Hrfmph,” mutters Wright, folding his arms, and turning his critical gaze to consider the new Trump tower as their boat glides by the building on its way down the river.
I didn’t know where this little scene was going, but I knew enough to write it down, to let it meander and flow like the river tour.
We get these little gifts all the time, but rarely call it that. I forget, most of the time, that the really good gifts are usually not the ones tied up in a neat bow. My husband gave me a gift; my fellow-writer Jill gave me a gift by passing on that phone number, which led to a job, which led to a new friend and the observance of passion, which led maybe to the makings of a new story. You never know where the gifts are going to come from, but I’ve decided to try hard to pass them on…
