Thriving While Dying
Spoken word ruminations on the convergence of living a highly engaged life while working through terminal cancer
Thriving While Dying
Jimmy and the Bar at Milwaukee and Ashland
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Allen Smart - Thriving While Dying
Former philanthropy leader. Original settlers of Quebec- les Habitants🫶 Feverish reader and listener. Hoarder of friends. Not coincidentally, surviving chronic but terminal cancer. I want to be remembered as someone who tried.
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Jimmy and the Bar at Ashland and Milwaukee. Jimmy and I met up after half a dozen nods at the local diner with its tiny six seat for Micah bar tucked in the corner. Jimmy would often be there, looking like he was either deep in thought or fixing to run out of there quickly and do something he would likely regret. A few mumbled words with the owner who ran around barking orders here and there. No bartender, a few bottles of liquor on display, most cheap but a few save for the owner's pals. No Jaeger, no fireball, no shooters of any kind. Causes too much trouble, said the owner, but Jimmy was happy to sit for a few hours and slowly work his way through four or five bulletin cokes. I'd ride my bike over, lock it up on the no parking sign, work through a few old style cans in half an hour, thinking about my next steps and have my decently compensated job at an office where no one cared if I was there or not wasn't exactly creating much internal or external excitement. We would nod and keep to ourselves until one day he asked me, You ever read any Aristotle? I feared this was a trick question intended to get us into the classic leisurely bar conversation that inevitably turned south, or maybe meant to try and pick me apart so I wouldn't be able to go there anymore. But this time, Jimmy really was asking whether anyone knew who this Aristotle was except him. Or more accurately, was he the only one who read Aristotle? And what did I think about real happiness coming from working the mind and not the body? I tried my veteran bar move, agreed with him, then picked up and went to the bathroom, hoping we could either revert to silence and the hum of the TV, or at least mumble a few pleasantries about Chicago's various neighborhoods and bars.