Winners!

 Take that ICE and your calculated misery heaped upon our town!  Even the old NFL Gods knew that Chicago deserves a victory.  And, as long as they were smiling on us, they served up one for the ages.

So lets enjoy all the TV commentators as they add the Bears to their endless predictions.  We know all about the folly of predictions, don't we?

Our Finest Hour

 

One of the great storylines of my generation is that of the London Blitz.  So many news events, novels, and movies impressed upon me who was heroic and why. British resistance rang true.

I know this is a stretch, but Chicago's resistance to ICE seems like our version of the blitz.  Today's bombshelters are the homes and schools where the targeted huddle with their families for protection.  Neighbors bring them food. Today's air raid wardens are the concerned Chicagoans who blow their whistles to sound the alarm. The news from our City is an inspiration to the places across the country not yet attacked.

Chicago: This is our finest hour.

The Offseason

 

The latest session of my baseball class ended on a high note.  We celebrated the unsung role of hard working umpires, even as we looked forward to the arrival of limited use of A.I. in calling balls and strikes. It was hailed as another step in the quest for "making the right call."

Yet, I hope we're not giving up too much in the name of certainty. Is the game a problem to be solved? Isn't that how we've been left with too many strikeouts, walks, and the swing for the homerun?

Let's not cast aside the mysterious value of human error, for it can foster the excitement of the bunt, the pickoff play, the stolen base and the delicious suicide squeeze.

Important? Or, just the musing of a fan on a cold winter's day.

The Passing Parade

 Jim Griffith

My good friend Jim died today.  We've known each other since college and that covers a lot of ground.  Jim was a man of moral clarity and steadfast opinions who also loved to have a good time.   Sitting at the bar, lifting his glass, and occasionally singing his Irish tunes is one way I choose to remember him.

I'm also going to remember how generous he was to me, and how much fun I had with Jim and Phyllis at their home in Wilmette.

Jim, Jean, Barb and I were a bridge foursome for many years.  Barb kept track of all the scores.  Jim was a winner. So, I'm going to ask her to hang on to them for awhile as we say goodbye.