A Letter About a Garbage Can
This letter ended up being responsible for the garbage can (and lack of litter) just south of Illinois National Guard building in Humboldt Park, where the path to the park meets with the eastern sidewalk of Kedzie Ave. Thanks to Alderman Maldonado for listening and taking quick action.
I recently moved to Humboldt Park after four years in Logan Square and two in Roscoe Village, and I have to say that I am in love. After moving in to my building on the corner of Kedzie and North, I was immediately shocked not only by the beauty of the park—the way the sun casts long, westerly shadows over the dewy grass in the early morning hours; the way the downtown skyline is painted crisply across the eastern horizon on clear days; the purplish color that envelopes the lagoon in the evening hours, when the geese step gingerly into the water as joggers patter by and fishermen pack up their tackle boxes for the night—but also by the unmistakable sense of community found on all sides of the park.
I came to this neighborhood fully aware that I was inserting myself into a very tight-knit community with an unbreakable bond to a proud past, and I had every intention to act appropriately, and afford everyone I met only the utmost respect and civility. To be quite honest, I planned on becoming invisible. But the thing is, I have not once felt unwelcomed or out of place here. Literally everyone I pass on my daily walks now knows the name of my dog, though Willie and I have only been in the neighborhood for little more than a few weeks. We cross Kedzie every morning past the Illinois National Guard building, across Luis Munoz Marin Drive, past the northernmost baseball diamonds, across the Humboldt Boulevard bridge and past the boathouse, through the wide open southeastern fields, past the seasonal food trucks, the Home monument, and out onto California. We walk down past the Citgo, the Dunkin’ Donuts, Bullhead Cantina, The Flying Saucer, Adams & Sons Gardens, the Monarch Community Gardens, The Yellow Book, The California Clipper, Knockbox Café, and everything in between. We receive no less than two dozen friendly waves and hellos along the way. And that’s the honest truth.
Humboldt Park, as you more than likely realize, often gets a bad rap among other north side communities. That bad rap may be based on hard crime statistics and a noticeable police presence, sure, but I think it stems more so from a thinly-veiled racism and fear of the unknown (as most things do). But that is not for me to discuss here. The only remotely shady thing I have seen take place in the park so far was some crude behavior by a gaggle of teenage boys, and we all know that teenage boys—when gathered in herds devoid of any sort of authority figure—can be assholes no matter where you are or who you are dealing with. But I am simply saying that I am shocked at just how kind and communal everyone in your ward has been to my dog and I thus far, from the Puerto Rican families picnicking on the park slopes, to the white 20-somethings riding their bikes home from work with groceries tucked under their arms, to the proud parents watching their kids play in their first little league games, to the old man in my building who sits in his apartment and drinks tall boys all afternoon, then dons his crisp-billed Kangol hat and walks out into the park with a garbage bag to pick up litter.
Which finally brings me to the point of this letter. Compared to the first time I walked through Humboldt Park some eight years ago, the litter problem has improved by leaps and bounds. There are far more garbage cans and recycling bins, and far less Styrofoam cups and McDonalds bags floating in the lagoon. This is an amazing, amazing accomplishment for which you and your community most definitely deserve to be applauded. However, due possibly to westerly winds and the fact that the massive concrete Illinois National Guard building serves as a sort of barrier that keeps that wind from sweeping across North Avenue towards Albany and beyond, the most litter I see in the park on a daily basis can be found swirling around in little garbage cyclones right there on the tiny plot of land just south of Illinois National Guard building, where the path to the park meets with the eastern sidewalk of Kedzie Ave.
If it would be possible to get one more garbage can right there at that very spot, the collection of litter done by myself and my fellow Kedzie and North residents on a daily basis would be a far easier task. I am aware that there is a garbage can just east of that spot, where the path to the park meets Luis Munoz Marin Drive, but you and I know that there are a lot of people in this world who won’t walk two steps out of their way to throw something in the trash, let alone a hundred yards.
Anyway, thanks for listening. You do good things, sir, and I’m sure you will continue to do so on into the future.
