|Credit: Erin Hooley, Chicago Tribune|
If you've never been there, Chicago is a big place. It goes for miles in all directions once you get away from the lakefront high rises, beaches, parks. We lived and worked there a long time ago. Now our children live, work, and go to school there.
Last November, the Cubs won the World Series. Maybe you heard about it. They clinched playing out of town, not that it mattered in Wrigleyville. Tens of thousands of fans swamped the area, especially that night. Our son had a sublet two short blocks from the park and, despite being a Sox fan, walked out his door and waded into the fun. He messaged his siblings to meet him and witness. This was a big deal. Big deal.
That day, our other son visited us in the suburbs. Driving him home after dinner, traffic was heavy but moving. As we exited I-290 at Sacramento, there were flashing lights and police tape off to the left. A body lay in the street covered by a sheet. I could make out that he had fallen prone, like a tree. Not splayed like in the movies. Police nearby were blank faced.