Almighty Father

I have lived near Chicago for almost all of my life.  When I was young, my family and I lived in Chicago Heights, a fairly large southern suburb of Chicago, only about 30 minutes out of the city.  As an adult, I live in Darien, a smaller suburb nestled in between several other smaller suburbs to the west of the city.  My sister currently lives on the north side, and my parents still live in Chicago Heights.  It is safe to say, that if you heard me speak, you would assume that I live in the city, due to my pronunciation of the word Sausage.  All things considered, I am a native Chicagoan in my heart, even if I don’t live in the city proper.  I am a Cubs fan, I am not a Sox fan, and I will root for “Da Bears” until my dying breath. 

Above: Bears Fan

           

Living near, but not in, Chicago has its advantages.  Barring rush hour traffic, I can get to almost anywhere in the city in about 40 minutes.  In fact, if the weather permits, driving to work in the mornings offers me an endearing view of the city skyscrapers.  It feels like the highway stretches all the way to the city, uninterrupted, and dead ends at the base of the Willis Tower (formerly known as, and hereafter referred to as, the Sears Tower).  Seeing the city’s beautiful skyline with the sun rising beside it is a wonderful way to start your mornings, and I’ve always been thankful for that. 

            

I have never wanted to live in the city proper.  I don’t think I was born with that certain something that makes people want to live in such an environment.  Please do not misunderstand that as a jab at city folk, or the city itself.  I love Chicago and all of its little intricacies, nuances, and scars.  Living near the city affords me the right to all her glories, but I have the option of coming home to my quiet, small apartment.  This does complicate things when it comes to parking, but I guess for every give there will always be a little take. 

Is this not a reasonable place to park?

            

Growing up near Chicago, you kind of get used to the idea that your backyard is one of the most amazing places in the world.  It seems easy to forget, that for a long while, we had the tallest building in the world staring down at us every morning during our commutes.  The Sears Tower has since been bested, first by the twin Patronas Towers in Kuala Lumpur, and shortly after, a handful of others.  As of now, the tallest building in the world, the Burj Khalifa in Dubai, nearly doubles the size of the Sears Tower.  The Sears Tower, although dwarfed by more recent buildings, has a special place in all of our hearts.  To us, it will always by the building by which all other are judged.

            

The uncanny ability to overlook greatness in our daily lives intrigues me.  It happened to me at a very young age, and I’m sure it has happened to you, whether you know it or not.  The city of Chicago is an amazing, wonderful place, filled with amazing architecture, beautiful art, and tremendous history... And yet, I have come to think of it as “The City”, just a place that I like to visit to see a baseball game or go out with my friends or go to the aquarium or what have you.  I seem to have forgotten that for 25 years we had the crown jewel of mans attempts to conquer the sky with brick and mortar sitting at the apex of our skyline. I can see this happening for a few reasons.

            

First, when you find yourself in the shadow of greatness, sometimes it impossible to comprehend how far that shadow reaches. As a boy, I knew that the Sears Tower was really, really tall.  It was “the big pointy one” that I would always recognize.  I couldn’t yet understand that the construction of the Sears Tower happened in a very complicated time in America.  The Sears Tower was commissioned in 1969, and was completed in 1973.  In case you have forgotten, that is just about smack dab in the middle of the War in Vietnam.  I can see now how something like having the tallest building in the world might help restore a little faith in an American’s heavy heart. As a boy, I stood in the shadow of the Sears Tower and was amazed by its height.  As a man, I can see now that the shadow cast by the building reached further than I could have ever imagined.

            

Another reason we tend to overlook greatness is simply due to availability.  It can easily be argued that it is common for people to want what they cannot have.  The same can be said in opposite: You don’t always appreciate what you have until it is gone.  After my senior year of high school, I spent some time in central Illinois as I pursued a higher education (READ: drank, and occasionally went to class). I will talk more about my sordid exploits in education later, but for now I speak only of my location.  I spent a total of 6 years in Normal, Illinois.  It was a very long time for me to be away from my family, and I missed them greatly during that time.  I also missed being close to a cultural Mecca such as Chicago.  Peoria was only a short drive down the road from my alma mater, but for all her glories (READ: there are about 2 glories in Peoria), Peoria is no Chicago.  

Pictured above: The glories of Peoria

Normal had some great restaurants, and being a college town, there were some great bars as well.  There was a record shop that I visited frequently, a mall not too far away, and a children’s museum.  It was a quaint little town, and I do miss it sometimes.  Even though I enjoyed living in Normal, my heart was always miles away in a small suburb of Chicago, sitting neatly next to my parent’s fireplace, waiting for me to come home. 

            

Casual observance of greatness can be caused by many things, and appear in many ways.  Maybe you didn’t give a second thought to the boy you knew from childhood, but now as an adult, you see him for the loving and caring man he has become.  Maybe you didn’t realize how much a family member meant to you until they passed away.  Maybe you didn’t know how much could ever miss eating a donut until you went on a diet and vowed never to eat one again.  There are thousands of ways that we as humans grow accustomed to something and it changes how we see things.  It happens everyday, and we have grown so used to it happening that it has become a self-replicating cycle.  The more it happens, the more accustomed to it we become, and we notice it even less.  All it takes to break this cycle is just one, tiny, little epiphany.  The greatness I have become accustomed to was my father.  My tiny little epiphany? The Sears Tower.  It is as simple as this: My father is one of greatest men I have even known.  I was just standing so close to him that I couldn’t see how far his shadow reached.

            

Let me step back a minute.  For those that do not know, my father is the band director at Marian Catholic High School in Chicago Heights (You can read more about him here).  He took a completely ordinary high school music program and turned it into something special.  The band at Marian is so much more than a music program to its students.  It is a home.  It is a family.  It is a place of growth and enlightenment.  They have an amazing track record in regards to awards and accomplishments, a feat not matched by any other program in the country.  They have so many trophies, that they are running out of places to put them.  But that is not important.  Not to my father, nor his students. 

Seriously.  The walls are covered in trophies.  In two different rooms.

           

The goal of the Marian band has always been to perform at your highest level, at all times.  Whether you win or lose is not important.  Perform with pride, live with honor, and practice until your feet hurt and your lips fall off (just kidding, almost).  By giving your best at all times, you can reach goals you didn’t even know you had.  I know it sounds cliché, but really it has always been about the road, not the destination.  By teaching his students to take pride in their daily efforts, my father his imparted something to his students that may not be immediately recognizable, but infinitely valuable to them.  Don’t take my word for it.  Ask any Marian band alum. 

            

I was lucky to have been a member of the Marian band, but my luck didn’t end there.  I had the good fortune of being my father’s son. His lessons were sometimes hard, and he can be very imposing at times, but I consider myself blessed to be able to call him dad.  I always knew what my dad had at Marian was special, but I had no idea how special until a couple years ago.  My life has changed greatly in the last few years, and so has my father’s.  A short list of things that have changed for me: I moved further away from my family, I became a father, I have a job that I love, and my grandfather passed away (My fathers father.  I named my son after him).

Grandpa and Charlie

All of these directly relate to my father as well, in addition to the many obstacles my father deals with on a daily basis.  Throughout all of these changes, I have grown closer to my father, and I feel like I am beginning to understand him a little better.  Actually, let me rephrase that.  He has always been a great father, an excellent leader, a loving husband, an enlightening educator, and an amazing friend.  It just took me 30 years to really understand and appreciate him. 

My father, My sister and I.  Yes, i did look awesome in cut offs.

            

As I said earlier, sometimes growing up in the company of greatness numbs your ability to gauge how good you really have it.  If you come from money, you probably do not know how it feels to wonder when your next meal will be (a bit of a depressing analogy, but you get my point).  My father has always been a towering giant of hard work and determination, a great example of how to live your life.  Everything about me that I am proud of is a direct result of my father’s influence.  I could never thank him enough for all of the gifts that he has given me, and I can think of about 5,000 students who would probably say something similar. 

Ringing in the new year, the only way the Bimm family knows how.  With Trumpets.

I'll end this with the last lines from Leonard Berstein's "Mass".  A prayer known as Almighty Father that the Marian Catholic High Shcool Band uses as a field warm up.  We only Played the music, but the words are just as important to me.

Almighty Father, incline thine ear

Bless us and all those who are gathered here

Thine angel send us

Who shall defend us all

And fill with grace

Us and all in this place

Amen.

Thank you dad.  For everything.

-J