Moving, adjusting, and finding community has been a pretty dominating theme of my young adult life. I've moved around a few times since leaving the Milwaukee suburbs as an 18-year-old to attend college, but none was more unappealing than the prospect of moving to Chicago.
Ever since I was young, I told myself I'd never move to Chicago. The thought of bumper-to-bumper traffic, huge crowds, inflated expenses, and seriously smelly buses was not how I ever pictured myself finding happiness.
At the same time, I have also loved cooking and baking since I was young. Growing up, my eyes were always glued to The Food Network, and I loved messing around in the kitchen. Trying new recipes and making food for friends and family were my usual weekend plans. Lucky for me (or unlucky, if you ask younger Robin), Chicago boasts the only pastry-focused school in the country -- The French Pastry School.
Like many people, I spent my college and post-grad years trying to find myself in a world of uncertainty. But the one thing I was absolutely certain about was that I would always wonder about "what could've been" if I never explored making pastry my profession. So I was faced with a choice: live somewhere where I could never imagine being happy, or pass up on my dream.
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The first time I left the comforts of home was to attend Lawrence University in Appleton, Wisconsin. Although I would miss my weekly family Shabbat celebrations, Jewish friends and the Milwaukee Jewish community as a whole, I was excited to embrace the challenge of adjusting on my own and soon found myself immersed within the "Lawrence bubble," primarily through my sorority, Kappa Alpha Theta.
I loved my life at Lawrence. My sorority sisters were intelligent, powerful and ambitious women whom I admired; they made me feel a sense of belonging that was so important being away from home. But I still felt like a part of me was missing.
My junior year I decided to take a leap of faith and study abroad in Quito, Ecuador for a semester. I had no connections there -- it was a chance to explore what it meant to truly live on my own and find community.
One day, my host mom in Ecuador told me she knew "another Jewish person!" and introduced me to a Jewish neighbor. With the neighbor's help -- and the pulling of some strings to help me through a strict security policy -- I was granted access into Quito's one and only synagogue.
I immediately knew I had found my place. The enormous and brightly colored stained glass windows, the familiarity of the siddurim (prayer books), and simply setting foot in a sanctuary again brought me back to my childhood in Milwaukee.
I attended my first service in Ecuador on Rosh Hashanah. It was like a scene straight out of Fiddler on the Roof. We stood and sang "Avinu Malkeinu" together -- in the most stunning shul I've ever seen -- our voices swelling to fill the room. I could feel the history, the passion, and the dedication to Judaism of these congregants in the strength of their booming voices; the moment was so overwhelmingly beautiful that I was moved to tears. I felt inspired to pick up my Judaism again, after missing that part of my identity at Lawrence, and I realized that I needed Jewish community in my life, wherever I was.
After graduating from Lawrence, I craved the familiarity of a Jewish community, so I moved to Bloomington, Indiana to work for Indiana University Hillel. Even though I was not a student, it was nice to be surrounded by Jewish people again, interact with Jewish students and fellow Hillel staff on a daily basis and celebrate Shabbat and the holidays.
Having a boss and coworkers who understood Jewish tradition was something I was especially grateful for. I didn't need to explain to them, for example, why the day of my father's yahrzeit was going to be difficult. In fact, amid the craziness of starting my new job there, I had forgotten to pick up a yahrzeit candle, so my boss made a special trip get one for me. I was so thankful I didn't have to explain myself any further -- she just understood.
After a year in Bloomington, that's when I faced with the decision to move to Chicago. Yes, I knew the Jewish community in Chicago was young, vibrant, and thriving, but I was still hesitant about living the inconvenient, crowded city life. But this was my chance to become a pastry chef. I had the motivation to finally push aside everything I had been convincing myself for years that I wouldn't like about the city and move there.
And I must say, boy was I wrong about city life. I can't even believe how much my views have changed. Traffic isn't so frustrating -- it's a chance to enjoy the city's architecture; crowds aren't that horrible -- they probably mean there's something awesome everyone wants to see; compared to the cost of living in cities like New York, my rent really isn't so bad; and smelly buses -- well, I'll admit I could live without those just fine.
But more than anything else, Chicago's Jewish young adult community has embraced me with open arms and is continuing to serve as the critical link that brings my life full circle again.
I have only been here for a few months now, but I immediately joined the summer group of JUF's Young Leadership Division's LEADS program and have loved every minute of it. I was admittedly a bit nervous signing up alone, but after my first session at one of our leaders' houses (shout-out to my awesome leaders!) it was clear that it didn't matter who you were, what your background was, or who you came with because we all had the same common denominator.
Instantly, differences started to melt away and I found some common ground or some mutual friend through Jewish geography with nearly everyone. It's actually kind of difficult remembering how everyone knows everyone else, but that's just part of the Jewish experience.
I remember after our second LEADS session being so genuinely excited to go out with the group afterward to the point that I completely neglected the fact that I had to get up at 5 a.m. the next day for class. I didn't care -- I was so happy getting to know this new community and feeling instantly accepted. LEADS has introduced me to so many new friends and friends-of-friends, some of whom I truly believe could be lasting relationships for the rest of my life.
LEADS has also opened me up to so many new Jewish connections and opportunities. There's always some networking event, happy hour, social outing, or volunteer opportunity to get involved in, and that's exactly what I've been searching for ever since I left suburban Milwaukee.
I love how comfortable and easy this transition has been; I honestly don't think I've ever been happier or in a better place in my life than where I am now. The connection I feel towards this community is turning out to be one of, if not the best, parts about my new life in Chicago, and I'm so glad I am here.
Registration for fall sessions of LEADS is open through Aug. 26. Register here.
Robin lives in Lakeview and is currently a student at The French Pastry School in downtown Chicago. She grew up in Milwaukee, Wisconsin and graduated from Lawrence University with a Bachelor's in Spanish, psychology, and linguistics. Robin loves country and Spanish music, spending time with her family, and cooking. If you're interesting in following her blog about pastry school, you can find it at https://pastry41.wordpress.com
For more "New-ish and Jewish in Chicago" stories, visit www.oychicago.com/newish