After our seven-week Asian trip, Mark and I arrived at the O’Hare International Terminal in Chicago on January 30, 2019—the day of the polar vortex of -20 degrees Farenheit and -40 wind chill. Before calling Uber for a ride home, I put on every piece of clothing in my 40 liter Osprey backpack with socks as gloves, two pairs of pants, two hoodies, a Safari hat and a shawl covering my face. I was grateful that Dariusz, our Uber driver, was working that day and texted us upon arrival so that we didn’t need to wait outside. Uber was a side gig for him.
Dariusz was originally from Krakow, Poland, a beautiful old city that was not destroyed in World War II and about which he spoke glowingly. He moved to Chicago in 1981 at the age of 17. His father had come to Chicago in 1969 when he was 5 years old and his mother followed his father in 1975 when he was 11. At that time, he lived with an aunt and uncle. I sensed Dariusz’s pain in his understated remark about what families will do to create more financial stability for their families. I imagined the two-fold abandonment he must have felt at 5 and then at 11 years old when his parents left him. I wondered if he were able to express his pain, thinking of my father who was only able to express his pain at his mother’s death at the age of 5 a couple years before his own death.
Dariusz’s daughter teaches English in a charter school in Portland, Oregon after having taught English for two years in Taiwan. Why Portland? Her boyfriend had first gotten a job there as a Latin teacher. Because Latin teaching jobs are very scarce, she followed him.
