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Welcome Home

While talking to a person at the coffee shop this morning about their dog (who had heterochromia -- two differently colored eyes), they mentioned having recently moved back to Chicago. I said "welcome home," and then realized a moment after it left my lips that I had meant it.

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Fall Fête

Patrick and I were guests at the Fall Fête of Lawrence Hall, an annual fundraiser for the various therapeutic services that the organization provides to kids in care. The night was a big success for a handful of reasons: 1) Patrick dressed up in his finest to sell raffle tickets. To this point, I sent him after Toni Preckwinkle (the current president of the Cook County board of commissioners) after she walked past us. It seemed an easy mark. 2) Patrick sang in front of a big group. He had worried hell out of me earlier in the day, on asking me to print the lyrics to the song he had chosen to sing. He had not been practicing so still hadn't memorized them. He sang (very well) from the printed lyrics. 3) I gave a little speech to a very large crowd. This also worried hell out of me. I modified a short essay written earlier this year and shared with LH and DCFS. The original essay focussed on domestic events, so its usefulness to a large general audience wouldn't fit. I edit...
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The Same Faces

I see the same faces. Yesterday afternoon, I was on the Red Line going home from grocery shopping. He was seated in the right row of the first train car. It was Mark Dykstra. It was an impossible, later-30-something Mark balancing a Trader Joe's bag between his ankles while hunched over his phone. I recognized him without thinking much of it, turning my attention to the Loyola students seated directly across from not-Mark. Of the three, the one on their far left reacted to a woman standing in the aisle while gripping a stability loop opposite him by reducing his man-spread by about 20%. A pro forma gesture. I read in (or into) her body language "thanks for nothing, asshole" as she shifted the weight of her backpack between feet.  My impulse was to confront the kid to make room for our fellow passenger. To give him a gentle lesson on the social faux pas he'd committed; but, then I turned and noticed another empty seat on the other side of the car. Her tired feet had ...
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Graduation Day

Patrick graduated from high school last week. I had been jazzed for the ceremony for a while. He stayed cloistered in his bedroom the morning of, getting his clothes and face just right. Senn High School put on a fun, outdoor, and socially distant event for everyone involved. Cars also moved slowly around the school grounds for those families who preferred to keep up their caution. I buzzed around the grounds just thrilled to chat with teachers, staff, and some other parents; in contrast, Patrick's demeanor was on par with any other Friday. Teenage cool is as alien to me as lunchables. Maybe he perked up after I returned home, free to socialize with his friends while far from the reach of his dad's camera.  That morning, while getting ready to get Patrick to his school he asked for my help with tying a necktie. I tied the one he wanted to wear around my own neck, intending to loosen it and then slip it around his own -- when it happened: I had a flashback. I remembered getting ...
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