At my work, we were hiring, and someone made it to the second interview. They were really excited about her; she was technical, seemed to get along with everyone. She was in Hong Kong, and was looking for a job back in the US, since she was a US citizen.

Imagine our surprise when, as we offered the job formally, she refused. “I’m afraid of crime, so I don’t want to live in Chicago.”

So, I’m going to ignore the obvious stupidity, and I won’t even extol the virtues of the city I’ve called home for the past 20-something years, but what I will do is remark on the particular brand of hope and joy Chicagoans have, specifically about weather.

Where I grew up, and 80 degree day was rote and matter of fact. Here, after a pretty long winter, it is a cause of unbridled joy and celebration. And I ruminated on that today as I sat outside all day, soaking up warm sun.

This will not be the last time I write about this, just like ancient Egyptians would have written about the odd cool breeze; welcome anomalies to the everyday.