In Rogers Park, abandoned chair sparks a conversation, Chicago's Next Voices guest columnist writes

I was coming home after walking my dog late one night around my neighborhood, Rogers Park, when I noticed something in the alley.

I went to check it out. A chair that had probably belonged to a patio set.

Too bad we don’t have a patio, I thought, remembering that our building has parking spaces instead of yard space because we live near the lake, where a parking space is a necessary luxury.

And then suddenly I had an idea: The lake — two doors away — is our backyard.

So I carried the chair to Hartigan Beach and left it there for everyone to use.

For the next couple of months, that’s exactly what happened.

Sometimes, I saw the chair in the shade under a tree, other times closer to the water or next to the rocks or in the middle of the beach. It was obvious people had used it during the day, and that made me happy.

One day at the end of summer, someone made a post on the community Facebook page, complaining about the chair. I don’t want to say the name of the lady who made the post, so I will just call her "Karen" (because she was being a Karen).

“Can we get the alderperson to make sure city picks up the garbage and gives a fine to whoever is dumping it on the beach?” her post read.

A few comments agreed with her.

But, to my delight, most people told her to mind her own business with comments like:

• If you don’t like it, don’t sit on it.
• That’s why we can’t have good things.
• Who made you queen of the lake?
• And my favorite was about a dog owner who, the night before he had to put his dog to sleep, had spent the night sitting on the chair with his dog on his lap, contemplating the setting sun and saying goodbye to his friend.

The chair stayed on the beach.

For the next couple of weeks, I started to see it in a different way. To me, it was no longer an object found in the alley. It became a community space, a token, a physical representation of what our neighborhood is about.

A couple of days later, I didn’t see the chair anymore.

The haters must have gone to the lake in the middle of the night and hauled it away.

So imagine my surprise when, while I was at work one day, my wife sent me a picture of something she saw at the beach while walking the dogs.

It was a brand-new patio furniture set in the middle of the beach.

I ran to the beach as soon as I got out of work. I needed to see for myself.

The set remained intact for a couple of days. But soon it was separated. Now, I could see a chair by the water, another by the shade and the table and umbrella on their own by the rocks.

The furniture might not be there for long. Maybe it won’t survive the winter. Maybe the haters will toss it away. But I would not be surprised to see another set suddenly appear next spring.

For me, as a former undocumented immigrant, the chair symbolizes the unseen and unwanted among us (Black, Latino, Asian, LGBTQ+) who, given the chance, can make our world a little better.

I have begun to think that, when I am no longer around, I want my loved ones to place a cast-iron bench with my name on it by the lake so people can sit there telling stories, watching the waves and the sunset.