Hey, folks! Jessie here with a big announcement!!! It’s personal, it’s professional, it’s out of this world!!
Just kidding, it’s totally of this world.
And I’m EXCITED!!
Okay, here goes:
About a year ago, my friend Brian opened a shop near downtown Lombard called Retro Glow Cycles. Long story short, he got trained to build, repair, and upgrade bicycles through a program in Colorado, then came home and started his business. A short while after he opened the storefront, disaster struck.
I’m not being entirely hyperbolic here. But maybe “disaster” isn’t the right word. (I looked it up, disaster is not the right word).
It wasn’t a tragedy.
It wasn’t a catastrophe.
It just… well, from my understanding, it just forking sucked.
Brian’s shop caught fire and had to close down. Completely.
Shirt.
The fire destroyed what he’d built — a business and a bunch of hopes for the future — and he was left to metaphorically rebuild from home while he navigated literally/physically rebuilding via insurance and village ordinances and whatnot.
All this is to say, it’s been quite a journey.
I’ll pause here for effect. Take a breath, then we’ll keep going.
Okay, off we get!
I’m going to get a little selfish here and think about “what if that were me”? (spoiler alert, some things turn out okay).
Like any hardship, we can have sympathy for someone and just kind of feel bad for them. Sympathy is having pity, or sorrow for someone’s misfortunes. Sympathy doesn’t really do anything except say, yeah, that sucks for you. It’s kinda like the phrase “thoughts and prayers” or “sorrrrry :/” — it’s just words without feelings in some cases.
BUT — Empathy, on the other hand, gives us a moment to understand and share the feelings of another. And in order to feel empathy, fully, we must allow ourselves to open our hearts to the possibility that this other person’s suffering isn’t just theirs. What affects one of us affects us all. There are ripples of impact in celebration and mourning. Empathy says “we’re not alone, I can’t know what you know, but I can appreciate what it might feel like”.
It felt like the whole community showed up. I’ve said where I live is unlike anywhere else in the world, and I mean it sincerely.
Not to say that a fire in a bike shop is like the death of a loved one, but I want to point out there is a bit of grief in this.
Grief for the shop that was.
For the loss of time.
For the destruction of material things.
For the timeline that ended too soon.
And in my work and in my own losses, I’ve come to realize that grief is a companion to us in its own way.
Grief says: They were here. It was here. We were here. I miss that/them/it.
Wow, this post has really taken a turn, huh? Not to worry, I’m about to scoop us back up to light.
What I’m getting at now is, Brian has shared a bit of his journey with me in recovering from this occurrence. This event. This loss. The fire, and its wake. And in all of it, I have witnessed unbelievable tenacity.
Tenacity. What a fun word. You know, like the band “Tenacious D”? Tenacity or Tenacious means: mental or moral strength to resist opposition, danger, or hardship.
Side quest (turns out, we’re going a little darker first, but I promise we’re going somewhere great):
I was called Tenacious once, and I’ll never forget it. I was called Tenacious by the worst boss I’ve ever had, and I believe she meant it as an insult. I kept coming to her about staffing challenges on my unit, complaints from the staff, and recurring problems. I was a novice manager. I had no tools, no solutions, and no experience in navigating these hard conversations. All I had were my words, and I kept using them. Her response was always dodging my question or request (or at least that’s how I felt). Powerless, more like it. I was trying to pull a sinking ship from the bottom of the ocean, wondering why the crew kept fleeing… Like the forking Little Engine That Couldn’t, “I thought I could” all the way into tremendous burnout and stress that took me years to recover from (and I still am, apparently).
Okay, back to the main path. The Prairie Path. The titular line of this post.
This week, Brian got the blessing from our village to reopen his shop. It’s been restored and passed inspection. And now, the real work begins. I’ll let him fill you in on what this summer was like at the Farmer’s Market, and all the ways that fellow business owners and citizens of Lombard came together to help in his time of need. I’m only here to selfishly share my perspective of this whole endeavor: I have a friend named Brian who’s reopening his shop, and he saved me a spot at The Prairie Path Pop-Up.
“The WHAT?”
The Prairie Path Pop-Up!!!
In celebration of the grand re-opening of Retro Glow Cycles, Brian is hosting this event to showcase local business, vendors, makers, and, well, me (the odd-ball storyteller), the Saturday after Thanksgiving.
Local commerce is essential, and the day after “black friday” is known as Small Business Saturday.
There’s a Prairie Path Pop-Up Facebook page (click here) with details, and we’re getting the word out on various social media posts and real-life analog POSTERS!!!
So, if you see me out in the community, and I mention this pop-up, and you’re like, the what??! — I’ve likely pointed you toward this post for details because, well, it’s just too much to say in a passing conversation.
With that said, keep an eye out in the coming weeks for my formal introduction to A Bedside Campfire. Because, I mean it now, it’s allll happening!!!
Take good care, folks.
Love,
Jessie
PS: A Bedside Campfire Events are posted on Facebook. One is on Saturday, December 9 at 9:30AM https://fb.me/e/50kguZGVF and the other is Friday, January 12 at 6PM https://fb.me/e/3Pj344rJq
You can sign up for email updates or one of the upcoming events here: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1Zb9Aw8_qosx7BM78Zr9T22YBoPeonOGswBhpVxoDV70/edit?chromeless=1
As I said, more details forthcoming!