There’s a mannequin staring down from the second-floor window of the Lock Up Self Storage on Lincoln. She has a blonde wig and a stoic demeanor—the sort of world-weariness that comes from being frozen in one spot against your will. When I moved the bulk of my earthly possessions into an eight-by-ten-foot storage unit in early 2020, I was comforted by her unblinking attention. She would protect my stuff while I could not. 

I was in between apartments and floundering in the early days of the pandemic. My boxes were supposed to live in the unit for six months, tops. The truth is that it is scientifically impossible to only use a storage unit for half a year; 18 months later, I had already retrieved the clothes, books, and kitchen gadgets I needed to use in my daily life. Most of my boxes remained in temperature-regulated solitude, sapping $135 out of my bank account each month. 

If I wanted to end my lease before my two-year anniversary, I had to get serious about the task. I needed to get rid of the storage unit—and to do that, I needed to get rid of a lot of stuff. So first I needed to convince my friends with cars that helping me move boxes would be totally chill and fun. 

Why are humans such magpies, clinging to objects for their sentimental sparkle? A lot of my boxes were full of childhood artifacts like old report cards, drawings of first-gen Pokémon, and Breyer model horses. Other boxes were even more emotionally troubling, like the ones filled with my dead mother’s things, shoved to the back of my closet for years. My dad sold my childhood home almost a decade ago, so I lost access to a possibility of roomy suburban storage. I started seething with jealousy for people who still had access to their childhood bedrooms, sitting empty like a shrine to their former selves. I had to carry it all with me, and fit it where I could. 

The truth is, even considering getting rid of those boxes felt like a betrayal. But who was I actually betraying? I didn’t want my life to become a museum to my past, like a career retrospective when I’m just getting started. I wanted more space to evolve, expand, and surprise myself. 

The vibes at the storage unit were always strange. Very soft pop music was piped into the building’s common speakers. It often sounded like Kelly Clarkson was humming from two rooms away. In the long, fluorescent-lit hallways, the effect was haunting. I rarely saw other people, but when I did, they seemed just as addled as me. Masks on their faces, boxes in their arms, just trying to find the carport before their strength gives out and they perish in Storage Wing B-200. 

Storage units don’t seem congruent to the KonMari method. Credit: Megan Kirby

I saw one man multiple times, sitting in a folding chair in front of an open unit containing more Funko Pops than you could ever imagine. I don’t trust a Funko Pop’s soulless eyes, and so, by extension, I didn’t trust this man. Surely, he must have been involved in some seedy underground market, trading limited-edition Doctor Strange figures on the dark web. 

One evening, my sister pulled into the carport next to an empty SUV. Next to the passenger door, a gigantic teddy bear (easily the size of an eight-year-old child) slumped on a dolly. I related instantly to his dejected position and unceasing grin: my spiritual twin. But where was his family? We took several trips to and from my unit and never saw another person. Did the bear drive the SUV? 

Trip by trip, box by box. I brought bags of clothes to Brown Elephant and stacks of paperbacks to Uncharted Books. I recycled old college reports and consolidated boxes of yearbooks. Some boxes were full of actual trash: half-empty Advil bottles, mismatched socks, promotional tote bags, and busted lighters. What possessed me to keep these things in the first place, let alone pay more than a thousand dollars a year to keep them boxed up? 

The thing about going box by box is that eventually you do reach the end. When I lugged the final Rubbermaid tub back to my apartment, I thought I would feel relieved. Instead, I felt a strange aimlessness. The storage unit had been a lingering anxiety in my life for years, a literal representation of my mismanaged nostalgia. I needed to let go of some shit, sure. But I think I mostly wanted to let go of the idea that my memories needed to be tied to physical objects in order to survive. 

Of course, there are still boxes tucked into the corners of my closet. I have some coffee mugs I hope I can use in a bigger kitchen someday. Some novels I’m going to read, I swear. I had to keep the Breyer model horses. I’m not ready to sort through my mom’s old college papers and magazine writing—and even when I do, I bet I’ll keep all of it. The point of emptying the storage unit wasn’t to get rid of all my things. It was to stop feeling flattened by them. 

Turns out that officially ending the lease on your storage unit is actually pretty anticlimactic. I emailed the office. I dropped the key in the front door slot. And I saluted the mannequin who’d been standing at the window, watching me come and go for the last two years of my life. She didn’t wave back, but I think she was sorry to see me go.

Read More

There’s a mannequin staring down from the second-floor window of the Lock Up Self Storage on Lincoln. She has a blonde wig and a stoic demeanor—the sort of world-weariness that comes from being frozen in one spot against your will. When I moved the bulk of my earthly possessions into an eight-by-ten-foot storage unit in early 2020, I was comforted by her unblinking attention. She would protect my stuff while I could not. 

I was in between apartments and floundering in the early days of the pandemic. My boxes were supposed to live in the unit for six months, tops. The truth is that it is scientifically impossible to only use a storage unit for half a year; 18 months later, I had already retrieved the clothes, books, and kitchen gadgets I needed to use in my daily life. Most of my boxes remained in temperature-regulated solitude, sapping $135 out of my bank account each month. 

If I wanted to end my lease before my two-year anniversary, I had to get serious about the task. I needed to get rid of the storage unit—and to do that, I needed to get rid of a lot of stuff. So first I needed to convince my friends with cars that helping me move boxes would be totally chill and fun. 

Why are humans such magpies, clinging to objects for their sentimental sparkle? A lot of my boxes were full of childhood artifacts like old report cards, drawings of first-gen Pokémon, and Breyer model horses. Other boxes were even more emotionally troubling, like the ones filled with my dead mother’s things, shoved to the back of my closet for years. My dad sold my childhood home almost a decade ago, so I lost access to a possibility of roomy suburban storage. I started seething with jealousy for people who still had access to their childhood bedrooms, sitting empty like a shrine to their former selves. I had to carry it all with me, and fit it where I could. 

The truth is, even considering getting rid of those boxes felt like a betrayal. But who was I actually betraying? I didn’t want my life to become a museum to my past, like a career retrospective when I’m just getting started. I wanted more space to evolve, expand, and surprise myself. 

The vibes at the storage unit were always strange. Very soft pop music was piped into the building’s common speakers. It often sounded like Kelly Clarkson was humming from two rooms away. In the long, fluorescent-lit hallways, the effect was haunting. I rarely saw other people, but when I did, they seemed just as addled as me. Masks on their faces, boxes in their arms, just trying to find the carport before their strength gives out and they perish in Storage Wing B-200. 

Storage units don’t seem congruent to the KonMari method. Credit: Megan Kirby

I saw one man multiple times, sitting in a folding chair in front of an open unit containing more Funko Pops than you could ever imagine. I don’t trust a Funko Pop’s soulless eyes, and so, by extension, I didn’t trust this man. Surely, he must have been involved in some seedy underground market, trading limited-edition Doctor Strange figures on the dark web. 

One evening, my sister pulled into the carport next to an empty SUV. Next to the passenger door, a gigantic teddy bear (easily the size of an eight-year-old child) slumped on a dolly. I related instantly to his dejected position and unceasing grin: my spiritual twin. But where was his family? We took several trips to and from my unit and never saw another person. Did the bear drive the SUV? 

Trip by trip, box by box. I brought bags of clothes to Brown Elephant and stacks of paperbacks to Uncharted Books. I recycled old college reports and consolidated boxes of yearbooks. Some boxes were full of actual trash: half-empty Advil bottles, mismatched socks, promotional tote bags, and busted lighters. What possessed me to keep these things in the first place, let alone pay more than a thousand dollars a year to keep them boxed up? 

The thing about going box by box is that eventually you do reach the end. When I lugged the final Rubbermaid tub back to my apartment, I thought I would feel relieved. Instead, I felt a strange aimlessness. The storage unit had been a lingering anxiety in my life for years, a literal representation of my mismanaged nostalgia. I needed to let go of some shit, sure. But I think I mostly wanted to let go of the idea that my memories needed to be tied to physical objects in order to survive. 

Of course, there are still boxes tucked into the corners of my closet. I have some coffee mugs I hope I can use in a bigger kitchen someday. Some novels I’m going to read, I swear. I had to keep the Breyer model horses. I’m not ready to sort through my mom’s old college papers and magazine writing—and even when I do, I bet I’ll keep all of it. The point of emptying the storage unit wasn’t to get rid of all my things. It was to stop feeling flattened by them. 

Turns out that officially ending the lease on your storage unit is actually pretty anticlimactic. I emailed the office. I dropped the key in the front door slot. And I saluted the mannequin who’d been standing at the window, watching me come and go for the last two years of my life. She didn’t wave back, but I think she was sorry to see me go.

Read More

SAN FRANCISCO – The Boston Celtics may be back in the NBA Finals for the first time in more than a decade, but first-year coach Ime Udoka said that is no cause for celebration.

“We’re not hanging a banner [for that] here,” Udoka said, referring to winning the Eastern Conference. It’s a bigger picture. “I think guys’ mindsets have flipped pretty quickly.

“Enjoy it. Guys relish that, and you have this time off. Even [Sunday] night in the media sessions [after Game 7], and obviously with us in the locker room, guys are already talking about what’s next and the bigger picture at hand.

“This isn’t what we came to do. You enjoy it and move on pretty quickly to the task at hand.”

That task, of course, is finding a way to beat the Golden State Warriors, who won three championships and made five straight trips to the NBA Finals from 2014-19 before missing the playoffs each of the past two seasons.

As a result, Golden State enters this series with 123 games of collective NBA Finals experience. Boston, on the other hand, doesn’t have a single player on its roster that has appeared in a Finals game.

Udoka, however, said he isn’t concerned about the experience gap, pointing to the experience he and his assistant coaches have in Finals, including assistant Ben Sullivan winning a title with the Milwaukee Bucks last year and Udoka himself winning a title having coached in multiple Finals with the San Antonio Spurs, and the amount of playoff experience his players have.

“I can say, being there, I know what’s going on and we’ve already shared some of those stories as well as some of the other coaches on my staff that have been there and won championships,” Udoka said. “So from that standpoint, it is what it is. We’ll have some meetings with the group and talk about those things. But I think, in general, we have a very mature group, especially with our younger guys. Al and Marcus, and our veterans are always very level-headed and keeping us in line as far as that. And then I’m not really worried about Jayson, Jaylen and the younger guys that haven’t been on this stage. Like I said, they got to the Eastern Conference Finals multiple times and took that step, so we know what’s in front of us.

“We know what we’re here to play for, and I don’t think any of our guys are awed or intimidated by the moment at all. We understand what it is. We know the opponent in front of us. And for us, as always, this year it’s been business as usual. Going on the road, not fazed by that at all. We’re really looking forward to it. Not a lot of anxiousness or nervousness. We have this time that we’ll take advantage of, as far as rest and preparation, and be ready to go by Game 1.”

As part of that rest and preparation, the Celtics will also get a chance to allow Robert Williams to manage the left knee soreness that’s plagued him throughout the playoffs, and for Marcus Smart to get a breather from a variety of ailments up and down his right leg, including his quad, ankle and foot.

Williams missed three games against the Bucks in the conference semifinals and Game 3 against the Miami Heat in the Eastern Conference finals after suffering a bone bruise in that left knee – the same one he had meniscus surgery on in late March that caused him to miss the end of the regular season and the beginning of Boston’s first round series against the Brooklyn Nets.

Udoka said the rest would be beneficial for Williams, but that – as he’s said previously – Williams will have to manage the knee throughout the rest of the playoffs.

“Rob’s all right,” Udoka said. “He’s good. He felt good. His minutes were low, only played 14 in [Game 7 against Miami]. We tried to keep him in the lower portion if we could. Obviously, that’s beneficial for him going forward, but the days off as well. So he should feel better in general. Getting looked at today and will continue to get his treatment and rehab and in order to get swelling down and some of the pain and mobility back. And so it’s going to be an ongoing thing like I mentioned. He’s day-to-day pretty much throughout the playoffs.”

Udoka added that Williams, in particular, should benefit from the spread-out nature of the NBA Finals, with two days off between every game except Games 3 and 4 in Boston.

“[He] should feel better with time in between, especially with these two days off in between games, as opposed to playing every other day. And I think, going back to the Milwaukee series, we had played 17 days straight every other day, and so that’s going to take a toll on you coming off a surgery. We keep his minutes down and get him back to feeling better, obviously that will benefit us going forward.”

As for Smart, who missed Games 1 and 4 against Miami – first with a mid foot sprain, then with an ankle sprain – Udoka said he’s fine after playing heavy minutes in Boston’s Game 7 win over Miami.

“Marcus, there’s no concern about that,” Udoka said. “The swelling is what it is. That will dissipate as time goes by.

“The pain tolerance thing, he can obviously play through a lot, and he did that [in Game 7] and played heavy minutes.”

Read More

A ribbon-cutting ceremony was held on May 21at 89th and Commercial on the southeast side. It celebrated the opening of Commercial Ave Alfresco, a joint initiative organized by the group South Chicago Parents & Friends along with the city’s Special Service Area 5 commission. Both entities worked together with local artists and businesses, and received grant money to assist their quest to revitalize the neighborhood with outdoor dining, pop-up markets, public art, and outdoor performances.

Located near the mouth of the Calumet River, the southeast side of Chicago, once a seasonal settlement for the Potawatomi people, has been in recent history identified primarily by South Works, the U.S. Steel manufacturing plant built in 1881, which, at its height, employed some 20,000 Chicagoans and helped make Chicago the country’s largest producer of steel. Ashed over by soot and showered in toxic chemicals, the mill neighborhood known as “the Bush” has long been plagued by economic distress, which only increased when the steel mill experienced prolonged shutdowns and finally closure in 1992. 

“People think the south side is the Museum of Science and Industry, the South Shore Cultural Center. 71st Street is about the end of the world. Anything past that is, ‘Huh, the Bush? They got plants?’ It’s lost,” says artist Derric Clemmons.

Clemmons, who was born, raised, and continues to live on the southeast side of Chicago, is helping to reenvision the landscape of the southeast side with his Urban Trees project, which transforms industrial steel into colorful landmarks that the city hopes will increase visibility and highlight the vibrancy of a neighborhood often dismissed as, in Clemmons’s words, merely “meat and potatoes, blue collar, low income, struggling.”

Derric Clemmons describes the Urban Trees project on his Instagram

Clemmons first gained exposure to art and activism through his uncles, Bill Davis and Steve Davis, both commercial and documentary photographers. “My family was vigilant during the Civil Rights movement—they were members of the PUSH organization led by Jesse Jackson. My aunts and mother were involved in protests, trying to lift their voices. My uncles were photographing the situations that were happening, the turmoil, the upheaval, during Martin Luther King and then Malcolm X. They wanted to capture life as it was developing, especially at a time of upheaval.” 

Clemmons pursued photography and fine art in the 70s at Columbia College and spent a short time in the 80s studying in Italy. Yet by the 90s, “I began to look at the landscape of my neighborhood as inspiration. It gave me an opportunity to represent my neighborhood, the southeast side from 79th to 100th Street.”

Now Clemmons, along with Brian Pitt, Mario Mena, and Pierre Seaton—his crew at South Worx Arte Group—are reshaping the landscape of the neighborhood with Urban Trees. “It was all done locally, as a community-based initiative,” he says, describing a process that began in his garage and gradually expanded to the 1,000-square-foot dock of a neighborhood center for youth mentoring. 

One of the installed “trees” stands on Commercial Avenue. Credit: Eddie Quinones for Chicago Reader

Clemmons and his team learned to weld and work with steel through local business partners, who have become friends and advisors on the project. Key to the trees are the weatherproof panels that feature work by other local artists, which will rotate in continuous renewal every few years to bring a new crop of talent to the public eye on the 8900 block of Commercial. 

“It is a community that is vibrant in its own way,” says Clemmons of his neighborhood. “It is mom and pop struggling to keep their storefronts open. It’s a community of mixed individuals who are for the most part accepting of each other. There are cultural festivals: Mexican, Polish, holiday events. There are dance groups and there are African American drum groups that perform. Yellow kiosks have been installed, which are small pop-up stop-and-shops for businesses to sell out in the open, to get people to stop and shop in those areas and to get people to know that they exist. The sidewalks have been painted in front of various businesses—a 1960s pop art [-style] multicolored display. And the trees are on top of these multicolored locations. So it speaks to the vibrancy of the different cultures here. 

One of the yellow stalls that was created for the Commercial Ave Alfresco project; local vendors can reserve the space on a daily basis for free through the project to use for pop-up outdoor shopping and other temporary displays. Credit: Eddie Quinones for Chicago Reader

“We got Nigerian, we got Somalian, we got Mexican and Puerto Rican, we got European, all mixed up over here. When you walk over here, you’ll see paleta trucks, panaderias, African shops where you can get meat, all kinds of spices from different countries, a Black-owned hat shop. When you walk down the street, you see people who are strong, who don’t want to give up. I see plants grow in some of the worst areas. If a flower can do that, I’m going to try that. The trees are strong structures that are enduring. They represent pushing forward through adversity.”

Read More

A ribbon-cutting ceremony was held on May 21at 89th and Commercial on the southeast side. It celebrated the opening of Commercial Ave Alfresco, a joint initiative organized by the group South Chicago Parents & Friends along with the city’s Special Service Area 5 commission. Both entities worked together with local artists and businesses, and received grant money to assist their quest to revitalize the neighborhood with outdoor dining, pop-up markets, public art, and outdoor performances.

Located near the mouth of the Calumet River, the southeast side of Chicago, once a seasonal settlement for the Potawatomi people, has been in recent history identified primarily by South Works, the U.S. Steel manufacturing plant built in 1881, which, at its height, employed some 20,000 Chicagoans and helped make Chicago the country’s largest producer of steel. Ashed over by soot and showered in toxic chemicals, the mill neighborhood known as “the Bush” has long been plagued by economic distress, which only increased when the steel mill experienced prolonged shutdowns and finally closure in 1992. 

“People think the south side is the Museum of Science and Industry, the South Shore Cultural Center. 71st Street is about the end of the world. Anything past that is, ‘Huh, the Bush? They got plants?’ It’s lost,” says artist Derric Clemmons.

Clemmons, who was born, raised, and continues to live on the southeast side of Chicago, is helping to reenvision the landscape of the southeast side with his Urban Trees project, which transforms industrial steel into colorful landmarks that the city hopes will increase visibility and highlight the vibrancy of a neighborhood often dismissed as, in Clemmons’s words, merely “meat and potatoes, blue collar, low income, struggling.”

Derric Clemmons describes the Urban Trees project on his Instagram

Clemmons first gained exposure to art and activism through his uncles, Bill Davis and Steve Davis, both commercial and documentary photographers. “My family was vigilant during the Civil Rights movement—they were members of the PUSH organization led by Jesse Jackson. My aunts and mother were involved in protests, trying to lift their voices. My uncles were photographing the situations that were happening, the turmoil, the upheaval, during Martin Luther King and then Malcolm X. They wanted to capture life as it was developing, especially at a time of upheaval.” 

Clemmons pursued photography and fine art in the 70s at Columbia College and spent a short time in the 80s studying in Italy. Yet by the 90s, “I began to look at the landscape of my neighborhood as inspiration. It gave me an opportunity to represent my neighborhood, the southeast side from 79th to 100th Street.”

Now Clemmons, along with Brian Pitt, Mario Mena, and Pierre Seaton—his crew at South Worx Arte Group—are reshaping the landscape of the neighborhood with Urban Trees. “It was all done locally, as a community-based initiative,” he says, describing a process that began in his garage and gradually expanded to the 1,000-square-foot dock of a neighborhood center for youth mentoring. 

One of the installed “trees” stands on Commercial Avenue. Credit: Eddie Quinones for Chicago Reader

Clemmons and his team learned to weld and work with steel through local business partners, who have become friends and advisors on the project. Key to the trees are the weatherproof panels that feature work by other local artists, which will rotate in continuous renewal every few years to bring a new crop of talent to the public eye on the 8900 block of Commercial. 

“It is a community that is vibrant in its own way,” says Clemmons of his neighborhood. “It is mom and pop struggling to keep their storefronts open. It’s a community of mixed individuals who are for the most part accepting of each other. There are cultural festivals: Mexican, Polish, holiday events. There are dance groups and there are African American drum groups that perform. Yellow kiosks have been installed, which are small pop-up stop-and-shops for businesses to sell out in the open, to get people to stop and shop in those areas and to get people to know that they exist. The sidewalks have been painted in front of various businesses—a 1960s pop art [-style] multicolored display. And the trees are on top of these multicolored locations. So it speaks to the vibrancy of the different cultures here. 

One of the yellow stalls that was created for the Commercial Ave Alfresco project; local vendors can reserve the space on a daily basis for free through the project to use for pop-up outdoor shopping and other temporary displays. Credit: Eddie Quinones for Chicago Reader

“We got Nigerian, we got Somalian, we got Mexican and Puerto Rican, we got European, all mixed up over here. When you walk over here, you’ll see paleta trucks, panaderias, African shops where you can get meat, all kinds of spices from different countries, a Black-owned hat shop. When you walk down the street, you see people who are strong, who don’t want to give up. I see plants grow in some of the worst areas. If a flower can do that, I’m going to try that. The trees are strong structures that are enduring. They represent pushing forward through adversity.”

Read More

Father’s Day is right around the corner and you want to show how much you appreciate the hard work, love, and dedication your dad gives for his family…and his city. We’re not talking another tie, a gift card to Menard’s or bottle of his favorite bourbon (though there is nothing wrong with any of these things). No, you want to give dad something a little more personal this year. Use this list as an inspiration for Chicago-themed Father’s Day gifts perfect for your dad, father-figure, or most important man in your life. 

Credit: Wolfpoint Watches

Wolfpoint is the boutique Chicago-based watch brand built for the modern Chicago dad. On his off days from screaming DA BEARS! and downing copious deep dish pizza, dad likes to clean up a little. He works hard and you want to show him how much you appreciate those 7am Metra commutes to the Loop to earn for the family and there is no better way to do that than with a brand new timepiece from Wolfpoint Watches.

But wait! UrbanMatter Chicago has teamed up with Wolfpoint to give your dad a Father’s Day to remember. Together, we are giving one (1) Chicago dad a brand new Wolfpoint timepiece and two (2) tickets to the Chicago Cubs game against the Atlanta Braves on June 19th! Follow UrbanMatter Chicago and Wolfpoint on social media for more information!

Photo Credit: Etsy

Even though the NFL season might be in jeopardy, fans will continue to support the Chicago Bears no matter what. This personalized decanter set is the perfect way for your dad to show off his support for his hometown team.

Photo Credit: Etsy

With the new series, “The Last Dance,” Michael Jordan is back in mainstream media again. Remind your father of the good-ole-days with this MJ-themed t-shirt.

Photo Credit: Dark Matter Coffee

Shop local and buy your dad some coffee beans from Dark Matter Coffee. You can also sign him up from a coffee subscription, for the gift that keeps on giving.

Photo Credit: Koval Distillery

Refill your father’s liquor cabinet with a bottle (or two) of whiskey from Koval Distillery. If your dad isn’t a whiskey fan, they also sell gin and liqueurs like coffee or ginger liqueur.

Photo Credit: Reckless Records

Reckless Records is one of the most iconic record stores in Chicago. The Wicker Park store is filled with old and new treasures alike, ensuring you’ll find something that your father-figure will love.

Photo Credit: Etsy

The wall hanging is decorated with roughly 20 Chicago Bears authentic cards that have been placed behind the Bear’s logo. The cards vary, but ten to range from the 80’s to the present day. You can even request specific players if your dad has a favorite!

Photo Credit: MLB Shop

This phone case is available in multiple sizes and for multiple types of phones—perfect for a Cubs fan that wants to keep his phone safe.

Photo Credit: Kohl’s

For the fathers who are fans of White Sox and grilling, this toolset will be a welcome addition this summer.

Photo Credit: Revolutionary Brewing

If your dad is a brewer, get him a Chicago-themed tap handle to round out his collection. Add his favorite six-pack to make it an unforgettable gift.

Photo Credit: Etsy

These coasters are for serious Blackhawks fans only and are filled with the greatest Blackhawks plays ever, including the 2010 Stanley Cup Finals Game 6 goal in overtime.

Photo Credit: Savory Spice Shop

Add a little flavor to your dad’s life with fresh spices from this Lincoln Square boutique shop. You can choose between dips and dressings, bbq and grilling spices, world flavors, and chiles.

Photo Credit: The Book Cellar Instagram

The Book Cellar has tons of options available for you to peruse. If you can’t decide what book to get your dad, you can sign him up for their subscription program, and the Book Cellar staff will do the hard work for you and send your dad a book a month.

Read More