#budlong

This was the display above my computer workstation in my office until recently.  I’ve had to let most of them go.

Top row, all from the 1940s, and ALL DESIGNED BY ROBERT DAVOL BUDLONG:  1942 Zenith 6-D-615, 1946 Zenith 8-H-023, 1946 Zenith 6-D-014

Middle Row, all in Zenith’s “French Green” color:  1951 Zenith H511F, 1953 Zenith J-615-F "Zephyr", 1954 Zenith L-622-F Clock-Radio

I have a driving problem.   As different exits zoom past me, I find myself feeling regret.  What about that city?  What lies there?  What about that town?  I think about the possibilities, the stories and maybe the answers that lie within each town.  Each off-ramp I see falling behind me causes a pang and a slight panic in my gut.  The urge to turn around, diverge from my path, overtakes my thoughts.   While driving, I have to steady myself often.  Think of the destination, tighten my grip and sally forth.   It's easier here in Chicago.  I can walk most places, take any detour I want and do my best not to over-think missed opportunities.

Irrelevant anyway.   I've been spending all of my time in one place in the city, but every so often I retrace my steps. Hit the road.  Follow the map. The Midwest and I have become uneasy friends.   It's funny...or maybe something else...I spent so long waiting to leave the Midwest.   When I finally got out, I assumed it would only be harbor at Christmas, Thanksgiving and inevitable funerals.   I talked to Shelly again yesterday.  She says she's good.  Her kids are good.  I wish I believed her.

She asked me,  "What do you think you'll find?" "You remember that day they jumped me in the locker level bathroom?  Bruised my ribs and split my lip?  How I kicked and yelled and spat?  How he heard the noise, because he was never in class, and came running in?  With the craziest eyes I had ever seen?  He lunged at one of them and then another and they went running."  

"He helped me up...cleaned my face.  Smiled, lit a cigarette and said, 'It's 'cuz you're so small...gotta teach you how to use that.'  He stubbed out his cigarette and took great caution in kissing my lips.  Didn't want to hurt me anymore than I already was.  

'It will change,' he said. 'There's no other option.'   And in that moment, I believed him.  I felt purposeful.  Destined.  I felt...I was beginning.  That's what I'm hoping to find."

We sat silent on the phone for a good two minutes.