Chicago is an October sort of city even in spring.

Hear now the words of Nelson Algren, who once declared, “Chicago is an October sort of city even in spring.” At first hearing, the phrase strikes the ear like a riddle, but as with all riddles, wisdom lies beneath. October is the month of endings, of cold winds rising, of trees shedding their garments and skies that grow restless with change. To call a city “October” even when flowers bloom is to speak of a place that wears its hardship openly, a city that never forgets its own gravity, even when the world insists on lightness.

For Algren, Chicago was never simply a city of brick and steel; it was a mirror of human struggle. He knew its alleys, its taverns, its worn souls battered by labor and poverty. Spring is a season of renewal, of hope, of the green promise of beginnings. Yet Algren reminds us that in Chicago, even in the midst of renewal, one feels the sharp edge of October—the weight of endurance, the whisper of mortality, the truth that life is not all blossoms but also decline. Thus the city wears its scars with pride, carrying both joy and sorrow in the same breath.

Consider how the people of Chicago faced the Great Fire of 1871. The flames devoured block after block, reducing dreams to ash. Yet the city did not lie down in despair. From the ruins, they built anew, raising stone where there had been smoke, and forging a city that would one day tower with steel spires. Even in the season of rebirth, when the world expected springtime laughter, Chicago bore the strength of October, remembering loss and embracing resilience. This is the meaning of Algren’s words: renewal that never denies the shadow of struggle.

In the language of the ancients, we might say: The city is autumn cloaked in springtime raiment. It is a place where joy is tempered by wisdom, where hope is sharpened by memory. There is something profoundly noble in this, for it reminds us that happiness is most real when it does not deny suffering, but embraces it as part of the human path. To live in such a city is to walk always between celebration and vigilance, between festival and forewarning.

We see echoes of this spirit not only in Chicago but in all places that endure hardship. After the Second World War, many cities of Europe rose from ruins, rebuilding churches, bridges, and homes. Their laughter in spring was edged with remembrance of winter nights spent under bombardment. Just as Algren saw in Chicago, there is a dignity in communities that refuse to forget their trials. They live as though October remains within them, a stern teacher, even while flowers bloom.

So, what lesson shall we draw from this? It is this: let us not be seduced by the illusion that life is only spring, or only October. Instead, let us carry both within our hearts. For when joy comes, it is deepened by the memory of trials overcome. And when hardship comes, we endure it knowing that spring will surely follow. Thus, we become unshakable, like the city of Algren’s vision—rooted, resilient, and ever awake.

Practically, this means we must cultivate resilience as daily practice. When good fortune smiles, remember to prepare for trials; when hardship strikes, recall that renewal is always near. In your own life, do not deny sorrow, but weave it into your strength. Walk through each day as the people of Chicago walk through their city: proud of what has been endured, hopeful for what is to come, yet never naïve to the truth of change.

Therefore, let this saying be engraved upon your spirit: Be as Chicago—an October soul even in spring. For in that balance lies wisdom, endurance, and the power to face whatever seasons life may bring.