Cover image for post Garv’s is Not Garv’s Anymore, by NE_Philomele

14 reads

Garv’s is Not Garv’s Anymore

It’s COLD today. Even by Midwest standards ... not the polar vortex cold where it’s perma freeze on a frozen tundra cold that the month of January is famous for in Chicago. But the February cold where it teases with stench of spring and moistness in the air and it’s deceptive sun just to lure you outside into it’s predatory grasp and icy fingers licking your tongue and filling your lungs ...

I’d been wandering for over an hour ... the old neighborhood, and this grasp felt welcoming until I realized I’d forgot my gloves and hat ...

I ducked into Garv’s

Only it’s not Garv’s anymore. It’s Lavernge’s

(For the street)

And it’s not the old man, hole in the wall it once was

Complete with cocaine and ladies with ambiguous morals looking for work ...

It’s gentrified.

It’s pretty, actually.

They exposed the old tin ceiling and used dark walnut panels and rich ox blood, colored leather for the majority of its decor ...

It’s as nice as any North side neighborhood of my youth ...

But I can spot the locals ... the ones from this neighborhood or nearby.

It’s not their age,

(40 plus like me)

Or their clothes,

(I look so out of place here, or do I?)

It’s the look.

The look of a blue collar man who’s worked countless hours out in the cold this week.

It’s their hands and their

demeanor ...

It’s this lean over the bar, but a proud, “fuck you” smirk at the hipsters that are starting to fill this place. It’s the, “fuck your, I’m an original ... original as this bar which is GARV’s by the way ya jag off,” face ...

I’ve settled on the fact it’s the smirk and the knowing glance we all make.

I take another sip of my hot tottie ...

Maybe I’m more home than I thought this morning ...

Maybe, just maybe, home is the place and things you carry in your heart because God knows, the world will never stop for you.

God knows ...