I've been thinking a lot about a video I saw recently of the late, great Chicago artist Tony Fitzpatrick, who died last month. In the clip, Tony waxes philosophic about what makes Chicago unique and what makes those of us that call it home special.

And while he's got a lot to say about it in the short clip (including an amazing line about how people that want to be rich "use Preparation H for lip gloss"), the part that has been stuck in my head for the last few days is when he says that Chicago is a boxer:

As word came out this week that Greg Bovino—the ringleader of the attack on this region that's been underway since September—would likely be departing Chicago along with 250 of his goons shortly, I thought about that boxer Tony talked about: Bovino looked across the ring, after two months of relentless assault, and we were still there. Whistles blowing, cars honking, everyone scared and nobody scared, lined up, ready to go another round.

Everyone I know is exhausted from the last two months. Exhausted from rushing out on the ding of a Signal notification, exhausted from standing in front of schools keeping watch, exhausted from confronting heavily armed masked agents in tactical gear with nothing more than a whistle around your neck. Exhausted—so exhausted—from being witness to neighbors, friends, and family going missing. Over 3000 people, according to the goons' own count. One was too many.

Everyone I know is exhausted.

Everyone I know is ready to go another round.

One of my favorite pieces of writing is the short story "The Pugilist at Rest" by Thom Jones, who grew up in Aurora, Illinois before becoming a writer in Seattle. The story is incredible, a tour-de-force of voice and language, a pedal-down race through the narrator's experience as a Marine in Vietnam. But, within this tale there's an aside—it's where the story gets its title—about the ancient Greek boxer Theogenes. It's an aside that I thought about when I watched Tony Fitzpatrick talk about that boxer:

Maybe Bovino is leaving. Maybe, as has also been reported, he'll be back in the spring when the snow has melted and the temperatures return to something resembling reasonable (it takes a special sort to survive the winters here, he'd never cut it). And maybe, if the reporting is accurate, when he comes back he'll be bringing a thousand men with him, four times more than the number he brought this time.

But here's the thing: Chicago has been strapped to the stone so many times, long before this guy and his goons came along. Chicago has thick scars and bloody hands. Fourteen hundred and twenty-five times—to borrow from Jones—we have taken our blows, spit out a tooth, and turned to square up again.

The winter is long. We just had our first measurable snow this week, four or five inches where I'm at, more further south. That snow has already melted—mid-November is too early for "real" winter to set in—but it served as a reminder to all of us of what's coming.

The winter is long.

We'll spend it getting ready.

Chicago is a boxer. We rest, and we wipe the blood from our one good eye and we stand, yet again. There's always another round.

Today is my birthday. If Bovino really leaves, that's the best gift I can ask for. But knowing that he'll be back (and like when he left LA, they won't all go away), here's my birthday request to you: The Illinois Coalition for Immigrant & Refugee Rights has been the backbone of Chicago's response to this assault. From running the hotline you call when you see ICE, to holding rapid response and know-your-rights trainings multiple times a week, to offering legal aide to the families of those who've been snatched, the work they do every day is critical. They've been doing it long before this two-month nightmare began and will be doing it long after it's passed. For my birthday I would love if you threw a little money ICIRR's way. Thank you.