Didion with her daughter. From the LA Time's Jacket Copy

In order to do the heavy lifting of reading a Joan Didion book, the brain – and the heart – must be prepared to carry the weight. This is especially true with Blue Nights, Didion’s extended eulogy to her daughter Quintana, who died in 2005.  For this reason I hesitated picking it up immediately; one has to be in the right place to read about death, especially when it’s a mother writing about the death of her only child. I wanted to save Blue Nights, but the Bookforum cover, the NPR interview, the review after interview after review all finally got to me. I had to read it to know what all the fuss was about. I had recently finished the book and started jotting notes for a blog post when I found out about the death of my father’s girlfriend (for lack of a better word), who had lived with us for many years and played a major role in my upbringing. I returned to Chicago before I had the time – no, before I could create the mental space – to flesh these out.

• It is impossible to read Blue Nights without thinking about all the things one has loved and lost.
• Didion lets us see the small cracks in the veneer
• We are constantly shaping and reshaping the stories of our lives to align with the changing visions of ourselves.

In spite of my deliberate decision, I found myself reading the book at the wrong (or perhaps exactly the right?) time. What I was then forced to be reminded of – or rather, what I found myself doing – was what Didion describes: the frantic piecing together of two lives: the one that has been lost, and the altered version of one’s own.

Much of Blue Nights is devoted to an examination of the bizarre way that particular objects take on extreme significance, and how holding onto them is a paltry proxy for the loved one lost. Her jarring incantation throughtout the book about the flowers Quintana wore at her wedding and her school uniform serves a dual purpose: they first give the objects significance, but the repetition, at some point, becomes a chant, sacrificing meaning for cadence, rhythm and the sake of continuity until the objects lose their power. Talking about memories isn’t just about wanting to remember. It’s about remembering hard enough so you can purge them from the system, and maybe (but likely not) forget.

I have often been surprised at the clumsiness with which people handle something has universal as death. After Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking became a seminal book about death, there seemed to be a general awakening about dying. We don’t know how to talk about it! It’s our last cultural taboo, so let’s share all the gory, nasty details of what death smells like and what grief feels like, how it possesses the body with a force unknown.In Blue Nights, Didion practically bludgeons the reader with the fact there is no comfort in the wake of death:

“You have your wonderful memories,” people said later, as if memories were solace. Memories are not. Memories are by definition of times past, things gone…memories are what you no longer want to remember.

Didion, and perhaps Tim O’Brien, are among the few who get it right about how death changes life: it reignites the desire to do something that matters. Not because of the realization that life is so precious and profound, but precisely because of the difficulty in convincing oneself that there is any meaning at all.

Didion also captures the post-death discombobulation. Grievers often become time travelers by finding blips in the past that lead to entire periods of memories that take on a new chronology, a new role in the narrative, after a death. There is a quote from Magical Thinking that about sums it up:

…yet this is a case in which I wish I had instead of words and their rhythms a cutting room, equipped with an Avid, a digital editing system on which I could touch a key and collapse the sequence of time, show you simultaneously all the frames of memory that come to me now, let you pick the takes, the marginally different expressions, the variant readings of the same lines. This is a case in which I need more than words to find the meaning.

I can imagine what you thought of me. Stupid yuppie chick sitting in Starbucks sipping her soy chai latte and checking Twitter on her MacBook. I’m certain I looked like just the type of gal that’s begging to get her iPhone stolen, didn’t I?  Don’t worry. I’m getting “sucker” tattooed on my forehead tomorrow to make it easier for you in the future.  I don’t know whether or not you reduced me to my stereotypes, but that’s certainly how I felt. You probably thought I was “nice” and would reach into my purse to donate to your nonexistent team, making it easy as pie for you to grab my phone on the table right out from under my nose. You were basically right.

I don’t assume that a group of teenagers wearing puffy jackets and hats pulled low is automatically a group of thugs, which is why I didn’t have my guard up when you came over to me. It was Starbucks. It was the middle of the afternoon. I was focused on my work. I wasn’t planning on getting robbed. Besides, you looked like boys, not men. I figured you were just being annoying and messing around, as teenager boys tend to. Ignoring you would do the trick. But maybe I ignored you all too well. Maybe I didn’t think to look closely when you put that silly paper in front of me asking for money because I didn’t want to assume you were up to no good. Maybe I didn’t think you were sly enough to have your partner in crime reach underneath the paper while two others stood at the door, scoping out the Starbucks.

Why didn’t I run after you? I should have at least yelled “thief” down the street. But instead, it didn’t even cross my mind that you’d stolen anything until the barista said you’d come in before and taken iPhones. Why didn’t she make more of an effort to warn me? Who knows.

Maybe you think I have lots of money to throw around. Do you know that I considered the purchase of my iPhone carefully for three long months? Do you know that I justified it by telling myself I’m a journalist so I need to be connected, and I’m bound to get a good job? Do know that I still don’t have a job, I feel really guilty about the purchase, and that I obsess over every overpriced latte?  Of course you don’t. I’m not asking for sympathy. I’m just saying.

When one of you came up beside me and started acting like a retard – yes, I’m going to use the politically incorrect term because you were mocking retarded people – I believed you at first. Your slurred speech and outlandish gestures did throw me off guard, and it’s only in retrospect that I see you were being ridiculous. I’m certain that just like the rest of us, you’re trying to make a quick buck. The world is full of backroom deals and Wall Street-style robbery. Is what you’re doing really so amoral? Why should I think I’m immune to being the victim of simple hustle?

If you think I feel like an idiot for getting my iPhone stolen in front of my face while sitting in a crowded Starbucks, you’re right. What will happen if you’re caught? Theft is a felony, you know. If this is your second offense, you might get a harsher punishment. I’m really trying to see you as individuals and not a gang of thugs. I don’t want your record to be ruined for something that, in the long run, is just plain stupid. But I’m angry, and there should be consequences.

One more thing you ought to know. This is the second time I’ve had something stolen from me in such a fashion. I was jogging in Riverside Park in New York last year when two guys about your age came up behind me, put an arm around my chest and ripped my iPod from my hand. It was 11:30 in the morning, and the area was well-populated. Yes, I had Shakira blasting, and yes, I wasn’t paying full attention to my surroundings. But I thought I was safe. So you must understand that this is the second time these thoughts – about how institutionalized racism plays into all of this, about why people who are betrayed by the system might not respect the system – have crossed my mind. Maybe you have a family to take care of. But here I go making all sorts of assumptions. Maybe you’re just assholes, and I should leave it at that.

I wish I could say that next time I’ll politely tell you to fuck off. But I’ll probably get all quiet and meek, like I always do, and get taken advantage of again. Anyway, I’m sure the phone is long gone. If you haven’t sold it by now, then I hope you enjoy listening to Shakira and Pink and viewing my pictures of cupcakes and babies.

It’s not the phone, really. It’s the fact that I feel so easily taken advantage of, and that clearly, I seem vulnerable, and maybe even stupid.

If I haven’t decided who I’ll cast my vote for by now, then I’d better get cracking. I see the strengths in each candidate, but every time I think I’ve made up my mind, I decide the grass is greener elsewhere. Why can’t we have them all? It’s hard to imagine what a Chico-del Valle-Emanuel-Braun hybrid lovechild would look like. Probably scary.

Instead of giving you my two cents, here are a few last-minute reads for my fellow indecisive voters.

Oh, also, I’d love to take a poll of the Bieber-haired hiptsers surrounding me at Intelligentsia this very moment. I imagine their coffees served in beakers and organic muffins and quantum physics are far more fascinating than anything I’d have to say.

• Did Rahm throw women under the bus in the health care bill? Viva la Feminista explains.

• Chico and Rahm both have endorsements by balding rich white guys. What does it all mean? Find out in Chicago Magazine’s Felsenthal Files.

• I hesitate to link to this out of Chicago-centric pride, but here’s a comprehensive profile of Rahm’s quest to reclaim his Chicagoness in the NYT Magazine.

• Finally, where do we stand with the numbers?  Here’s a list of predictions for tomorrow – the majority of which have Emanuel coming it at over 50 percent.

I guess it takes one to know one. I might be critical of my Alma mater, but I’m also grateful for the education I received. So when I hear my fellow New Trier alum Rahm Emanuel being derided for where he went to high school, I understand completely. Still, I think criticisms of Emanuel’s privileged upbringing miss the point.

When Emanuel’s mayoral viability is questioned on account of his North Shore roots, it’s not just about proving Chicago’s allegiance to those who work in uniforms and steel-toed boots. Implicit in harkening back to Emanuel’s high school days is the notion that an individual who grows up with money and privilege is automatically lacking not only in perspective, but also in authenticity.

Pitting rough-and-tumble Chicago neighborhoods against sheltered suburbs in a test of authenticity creates a reductive dichotomy in which being “real” is conflated with financial struggles, exposure to violence, and using those good ol’ bootstraps to make it big.  But there’s a fine line between highlighting working class roots and fetishizing them.

This is a mayoral campaign, not the set of Dangerous Minds (or Wicker Park). Equating being an “authentic” Chicagoan with growing up in a tough neighborhood glamorizes economic struggles and violence, which in turn trivializes the lives of many who call Chicago home. To display a gritty background as a badge of honor reeks of disingenuousness just as much as JLo claiming she’s still Jenny from the block. It’s almost as phony as, well, New Trier kids sagging their jeans and talking about scoring some reefer while cruising around in their VW bugs. The whole thing creates a twisted suffering competition in which the working class experience is appropriated by those in power to distance themselves from the establishment.

Each and every one of the candidates is working overtime to show they’re down with everyday people. They all love to show themselves shaking hands in front of El turnstiles or shoveling snow. Simply put, our candidates are vying for street cred.

Isn’t this the same problematic, racially-tinged thinking that equates being cool with being ghetto and makes some white kids think they’re really subversive because they listen to hip-hop? “Real” people don’t grow up surrounded by violence and poverty because it gives them street cred. They do so because they don’t have a choice.

It seems that in all this talk about who’s a real Chicagoan and who’s not, we’ve forgotten something very basic: that to be real means to simply be who you are, whether you’re a graduate of New Trier or Kelly High School, like Chico.

While New Trier may boast an impressive list of high-achieving alums, let us not forget about the vast majority of Trevians who go on to be – dare I say it – average. Maybe it was the Time magazine cover that portrayed the entire campus as potheads. Blame it on Mean Girls, Savage Inequalities, Donald Rumsfeld or Rahm Emanul. For whatever reason – and in many respects, it’s a valid one – New Trier has become a symbol of all that’s wrong with our highly polarized, grossly segregated city.

I have no doubt that my New Trier education has given me an edge. It’s in part why I ended up at a private liberal arts college and in an Ivy League graduate program. I could tell you all about why my family isn’t typical of the North Shore, but I’ll stick with what does make me typical. I’d rather own who I am and where I came from, the good and the bad. Part of that is letting you know that a New Trier diploma isn’t a free ride. I also don’t have a job, a clear idea of my next step, or hotshot connections.

Unless you want some Mary Kay cosmetics. Then I can totally have my mom hook you up.

First off, C. Marin is a bulldog in pearls. She wasn’t afraid to interrupt candidates, call them on their bullshit, and ask the tough questions. She wanted specifics! Examples! Cold hard facts! I loved her insightful interrogation. So what can we take away from this, the zillionth mayoral forum? All the candidates have 1) skeletons in the closet and 2) mastered the fine art of bullshit? Yes, but now I’ll dig deeper.

Of course, you can tell a lot more about a person by focusing on the how instead of the what. They all were thrown curve balls, and some hit them out of the park. Others, not so much.

Rahm wasn’t pleased with Marin’s implication that he was largely responsible for the financial meltdown, but he remained unruffled. Yes, he evaded a direct response, but he also made Marin’s question seem like a reductive attack. When she questioned him on his reputation as a “take no prisoners politician” he spun it right back around by saying he was indeed a fighter – for gun control laws, health care reform, etc. Well played, Rahm. (Sometimes he doesn’t move his mouth enough when he speaks, which I find irksome.)

By this point, I needed a cupcake. Who is offering free cupcakes to voters, huh? If I were running for mayor…

For her part, Carol was super defensive when it came to her finances. She didn’t keep her cool, and seemed a little frazzled at points. When Chico was questioned about cash advances through his law firm, he basically said that Marin had her facts wrong. He came off as arrogant, but polished nonetheless.

Miguel del Valle came through as the single voice of reason. I love that he used the expression “best thing since apple pie.” Makes him seem wholesome. He didn’t flinch when Marin asked if we should see the lack of money he earned as an organizational failure of his campaign. He was sharp and to the point – and said that privatizing the parking meters was a huge mistake. Amen!

They went on to talk about City Council, agenda changes, blah blah and yakety yak. It’s at this point I wonder why I’m not at fashion week reporting on colorful frocks for spring. Oh well. There’s always next year.

The best moment in the debate was when Rahm cracked a joke – and a smile. The worse was CMB’s strange maniacal grin.

I still don’t know who to vote for. Someone just needs to pass out cupcakes, and I’ll be swayed in their direction.

Then there’s the above video titled “Too Big to Fail,” written and performed by “DJ Freddie Mac and The Blue State Cowboys.”

The video is frankly hilarious, and its fragmented pop culture references and witty rhymes create an effective narrative in broad strokes: Daley’s always been Rahm’s “goy,” there’s a shout out to wealthy suburb Winnetka, and mention of Rahm’s vacation to Thailand.  The video shills its anti-Rahm message by using iconic images – the Hollywood sign, bundles of Benjamins, Rahm in tights, etc. Of course, the title is invoking Wall Street and white collar criminals who use their get out of jail free card repeatedly. Despite its murky use of facts, the subtext is crystal clear: Rahm has reckless disregard for the little man and will run roughshod over the entire city, so don’t be surprised if you too get a dead fish in the mail.

So which is more convincing? The immediacy and emotional appeal of the video or the well-written, factually sound editorial? In the past, an endorsement from an esteemed publication was practically a ticket into office. Now, however, “endorsements” come in various forms: viral videos, pop culture blogs, and numbers of Twitter followers. Today, an image of the Hollywood sign resonates more deeply than phrases like “candor, breadth and dogged effectiveness” – the pithy pull-out quote summing up the Trib’s endorsement. So should we care that the Trib — and Crain’s and the Sun-Times — have endorsed Emanuel? Should it factor into my decision? Maybe, but I’m more inclined to think that newspaper endorsements (even when online) still have limited analogue impact in a digital world.

“Some people just like early voting. Why not sit at home on Election Day and just watch the numbers?” asked Cihran.

On Monday, Chicago had the second highest opening day turnout since early voting started in 2006, according to Board of Election spokesman Jim Allen. Although election drama continues to unfold and candidates have yet to define clear fiscal plans, it appears that many voters have heard enough. Based on initial numbers, early voting in the current election cycle is poised to eclipse the 2008 presidential primary, despite the storm-induced slowdown

“We were chugging along on the first day,” said Allen, who noted that polls were closed for two days because employees couldn’t get to various locations throughout the city. “Early voting is usually a reflection of how many people have their minds made up.”

Election judges at the Chicago Avenue site, one of 51 early polling places across the city, noted that voters were coming in right up until closing on Tuesday even after the storm was in full swing. Early voters can go to any polling place regardless of residency and need only show a valid photo ID to vote.

Allen suggested that genuine interest in this year’s historic election is driving people to the polls well in advance of Election Day.  It’s the first time an incumbent candidate hasn’t been on the ballot since 1947, said Allen, and for some, that translates into a unique window of opportunity to affect change and make a difference.

“There are communities and populations within the city who have been locked out of City Hall for decades and this election represents a chance to open the doors of City Hall to all communities and all citizens of Chicago,” said Patricia Van Pelt Watkins in a statement.

Watkins also issued a press release noting that the epic blizzard was case in point as to why voters need to get to the polls early.

Dick Simpson, the head of the Political Science Department at the University of Illinois at Chicago and a former Chicago Alderman, said that the changing of the guard in City Hall will definitely increase voter turnout, early and otherwise.

“People always vote more heavily when elections are contested,” he said.  “In addition, aldermanic elections are driving up registration.”

Simpson also noted that the Latino vote, which in the past has been lower than other demographics due to language and citizenship barriers, is expected to increase in this election.

“Even though they hold a balance of power, this is the first election where there’ve been viable Latino candidates for mayor,” he said.

Still, some Chicagoans are gathering information, weighing their options, and bracing for a different type of storm before casting their vote.

“Every election, people say that they want to wait until the last minute just in case some scandal erupts,” said Cihran.

At about 9:40 this morning, the first voters started to straggle into the Chicago Avenue polling place. Streeterville resident Nicholas Ferlis, 63, came to cast an early vote simply because he had free time and wanted to avoid the crowds.  “I’ve seen as much as I needed to make a decision,” he said, though he wouldn’t reveal who he voted for.

James Linz, 79, of the 42nd ward cast his vote for Gery Chico today. Like many early voters, he’ll be out of town on Election Day and he’d firmly made up his mind.

“I think there will be more democratic give and take with the council with Chico. There wouldn’t be with Emanuel”

Though Allen notes the phones aren’t ringing off the hook at the Chicago Board of Election, he’s please with the early turnout thus far.

“It’s wonderful. Any time you’ve got more interest, you’re going to have more people.”

Early voting continues through Thursday, February 17.

Yes, a site actually exists that allows you to bid on the mayoral election….and whether or not Sarah Palin will run for president, and who will win an Academy Award, and almost any other contest of political might or cultural wit.

It’s called intrade, and shares of Gery Chico’s win go for $60 even. Rahm Emanuel is sitting pretty at $97, and Carol lags at $10/share.  The odds are based on probability, so here’s how I like to think about it: if Chicago had 100 mayoral elections, Rahm would win 97 of them. Not bad. However, we only have one.

What I find fascinating about the whole thing is not the monetary aspect (I’ve never been a betting gal) but the way the sale prices fluctuate in tandem with the day’s news. Notice, for example, the dramatic drop when Rahm was kicked off the ballot, and then the sharp increase when he was put back on a few days later.

On one hand, the site might be just another means of making people feel like they’re in on the action , like fantasy football or some creepy avatar netherworld. On the other, it’s another example of the way everything – even potential – has become monetized.  Perhaps in a world where so much happens in the cloud, the way we’ve learned to tether information to reality is through cold hard cash. Think Google Analytics, the value placed on the number of unique users visiting a site and how web traffic eventually dictates advertising dollars.

I don’t know. As much as I love to “use my words” I see an increasing amount of numerical subtext.

So what’s stopping you? Throw your hat in the ring! Bet on the winner!

Um, well, first, it’s illegal, and second, even if you wanted to break the law, you’d need an offshore account to do your dirty business.

So forget the election so you can bet on what’s really important, like if Natalie Portman will win best actress for her role in Black Swan.

Has anyone asked former ballerino Rahm what he thought of Black Swan?

Have we learned nothing from our political process?

Conventional wisdom is that if you don’t like fighting dirty, then don’t get into politics. Yet the minute a candidate pulls a one-two punch, the pundits come out shaking a finger at bulldog-like behavior.  On the other hand, show you’re a softy, and politicians are maligned for not being tough enough to handle the job. Who can ignore the fact that criticism of Obama has stemmed from his pussyfooting around Republicans and willingness to capitulate on key issues for the past two years?

Lets take a look at some down and dirty behavior, shall we?

Not only did CMB not apologize for her “cracking smoking” remark about Patricia Van Pelt-Watkins, but she defended her comment.

Gery is full of snarky asides and Twitter digs about Emanuel. In return, this morning Rahm “punked” him, or something like that.

I can’t get a good grasp on Miguel’s shark level, but he seems he’s more chiuhauhua than pitbull.

Rahm is, well, Rhambo. Or Rhamageddon. Or the Kosher Soprano. His behavior runs the gamut from acerbic to abusive – or so the story goes.

Now that we have four alpha males (I’m defining the term by behavior, not gender) vying to out-antagonize the other, we’ve suddenly decided that aggression is a bad thing.  But hold the phone. There’s clean dirty, and then there’s down and dirty. A distinction between necessary bluntness and intentional cruelty, between low digs and telling the harsh truth, between running roughshod and running a good race must be made. We want someone in office who is passionate and driven, capable of reacting without being reactionary, and who knows how to put up a good fight. Perhaps the nuances of behavior and the motivations behind them ought to be parsed apart. It’s not just the what, but the why and the how.

I’m often told I’m “really nice” — which, in the world of journalism, could translate to “you’re a pushover and not aggressive enough to be real competition.”  Personally, I take nice as an insult. So is being mean such a bad thing? I mean, aren’t we all drawn to guys who are jerks?

Um, maybe that’s just me.

Pic from the Chicagoist

Last night Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy headlined a fundraiser for Rahm Emanuel, a move that some considered a cheap ploy to conquer Chicago’s thriving hipster mecca (see Logan Square). Other candidates have implied  that celebrity has no place in politics, but who are they kidding here? (see Sarah Palin) Although Emanuel, an avowed Wilco fan, isn’t exactly what I’d call hip, he might be in the groove with his latest celeb endorsement. Let’s face it: the line between celebrity and politics barely exists anymore (See Governor Schwarzenegger). Rahm knows this and is exploiting it — but is that a bad thing? Why can celebrities dabble in politics, but politicians take a beating for flirting with celebrity? When Saint Angelina and her troops of Hollywood do-gooders take on the big bad political machine (usually manifest in consciousness-raising protests or photo-ops with starving children ), we laud them for accepting their social responsibility. It seems almost their obligation to use their star power for good. Whether or not I agree with Rahm’s politics, I have to acknowledge his politically savvy. As long as he doesn’t adopt an Asian baby.

It’s one thing for Hollywood dollars to fund a Chicago election, but another for Hollywood celebrities to fuel momentum. If you’ve got the connections, then why not flaunt them? Is it because having the endorsement of a popular band will manipulate voters into thinking you share their same alternative crunchy granola values? Lets give voters more credit.  However, there wouldn’t be so much criticism of Rahm’s courtship of the celebrity set if it wasn’t a real threat, and there wasn’t just a wee bit of jealously behind all the hook-ups from his big time agent brother.

In other news, Carol MB accused lesser-known mayoral candidate Patricia Van Pelt-Watkins of smoking crack at a mayoral forum while Rahm was partying it up with scruffy hipsters.