Wind phone at Canal Shores offers unique solace for mourners

(Editor’s Note: This story was reported by Nancy McLaughlin for the Evanston Roundtable, a neighboring independent newsroom. It was shared with The Record as part of an ongoing collaborative effort.)

Just beyond the 11th hole of the Canal Shores Golf Course, near a patch of rangy purple milkweed sits a bright red phone booth that seems transported from another time and place.

The old-timey rotary device inside won’t work for switching your dental appointment or calling your aunt in Topeka, but it could prove to be a lifeline if you’re grieving over a lost loved one.

Installed two weeks ago, the “telephone of the wind” is a kind of mystical communication system where individuals are invited to connect with those who have passed. The concept was first introduced in Japan more than a decade ago and recently was brought to Evanston through the efforts of Mary Leopold, a clinical social worker and therapist, whose 19-year-old son, Oliver Brown Leopold, died unexpectedly in December 2021.

It was something I learned about after Oliver died, and it totally resonated with me,” Leopold said. “The idea is that you talk to your loved ones who have departed on this disconnected phone and then your words just get taken away by the wind. Maybe you’re upset. Maybe you’re reaching out to your loved one. Maybe you want to talk about something else. I just love the idea of this being here as an outlet for people.”

After the tsunami

Itaru Sasaki, a garden designer mourning the loss of a beloved cousin, created the first wind phone in 2010 on the outskirts of Otsuchi, a small coastal city in northern Japan. On a hilltop near his home, he erected a white vintage-style phone booth and installed a nonfunctioning rotary phone he used to converse with his cousin, allowing the wind to carry his words to the world beyond. 

When a devasting tsunami struck the shoreline a year later, leaving thousands dead or unaccounted for, Sasaki invited the public to visit his wind phone and they came in droves, still grappling with their grief.

The wind phone concept caught on quickly in Japan and soon spread overseas. According to the mywindphone.com website, there are now more than 100 in remote locations around the world. There are no rules for creating a wind phone, although the website does offer some practical advice. 

Leopold said she originally envisioned something very uncomplicated.

“I had this idea that it could just be a phone attached to a tree.” First and foremost, she wanted a place of peace.

“When you’re grieving, nothing feels peaceful,” she said. “It all feels chaotic and scary.”

She shared her thoughts with friend and neighbor Patrick Hughes, Jr., who organizes landscaping volunteers for Canal Shores and was especially close with her son Oliver. Hughes suggested the scenic location near the walking path but squelched the idea of simplicity.

“Pat adored Oliver,” said Leopold. “They were like two peas in a pod. I went to Pat and told him the story. I told him it could be simple, but he said no. ‘When I think of Oliver, I think of a bright red fire truck. Go big or go home.’“

Oliver, a gregarious tech whiz with an insatiable appetite for learning, was a fixture at the Evanston Fire Department from a very young age, according to Leopold. In junior high, he participated in the Fire Explorers Program and went on to develop an app that is still in use on all of the rigs.

Big rig on the street

At the time of his death, Oliver had graduated from ETHS a semester early and was working as an EMT while also studying to be a paramedic. After a pandemic-inspired gap year, he planned to go on to college and major in biomedical engineering. 

Much to his parent’s astonishment, Oliver had recently purchased a 42-foot decommissioned fire truck with a 150-foot ladder. Leopold laughed at the memory and grimaced as she recalled the problem of parking the rig. She said she has since donated the vehicle to the University of Illinois Fire Service Institute, where it’s used for training.

Given her son’s proclivities, Leopold agreed that bright red was an appropriate color choice for the monument. With the design settled, Hughes sought additional help from friends Dawn Okamoto, owner of Secret Treasures Antiques at 605 Dempster St., and Henry James. The duo took the ball and ran with it, setting up a GoFundMe page that raised the necessary $4,000 in just two days. 

Leopold ordered the British-style phone booth from a manufacturer in Texas and found an old-fashioned rotary phone on eBay. A brass plaque explaining the wind phone concept is on order, but for now there is a paper sign posted on the interior wall. Hughes recently added a small wooden stool and Leopold hopes to install solar panels to light the structure at night.

She and her husband, Alexander Brown, and their Lab-hound mix, Joey, live just a couple of blocks away and pass by the wind phone nearly every day. 

“It’s like this beautiful beacon, every time I walk by,” she said. “I always feel a little overwhelmed in a beautiful way.”

Leopold said she has already encountered several other people at the site who have also lost loved ones and hopes that the wind phone helps them feel a little less alone.

“Oliver would be thrilled with this spot,” she said. “I think he’d love knowing we were reaching out to the community. I think he’s here. I think he’s definitely here.”

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