My Friends,

 

It was a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky, that greeted us Sunday morning. The added benefit of the return of standard time provided the so-called extra hour of sleep, which for most of us means you wake up 24 hours after you did on Saturday and decide what to do with the extra sixty minutes. In my case the crisp morning air was perfect for a run, to clear my head for what promised to be a long day.

 

The 9am shove off for Soldier Field planned from the northwest side provided just enough time for six miles and a quick shower. Following the usual game day ritual, I selected a hunter green washcloth to cleanse my squatter with a metaphoric bit of our hated rivals to the north. It never hurts to put a little stink on the packers, wherever you can find it.

 

Following a quick drive to 18^th and Prairie, HT and I began the long trek to the southern end of the South Lot, in the waning shadow of McCormick Place. There, Carol and Danimal were putting the finishing touches on their sorta annual turkey dunk. The usual plethora of colored libations was available for consumption as we anticipated the feast, and glasses were raised, exhorting our guys on to victory.

 

Unfortunately there was no Woj to be found, as he had early duty caring for his convalescent mother. I raised a glass to her continued health and then we had our way with the first of two perfectly seasoned birds. After most of the masses were fed a line was formed by several stragglers, awaiting the emergence of the second overgrown pullet. It was at that moment that I chose to expose the unadulterated backside of the first carcass. Crispy, seasoned skin was initially ripped with reckless abandon, but my ruse was soon discovered, and I was ordered off so that others could partake. We took turns decimating the remains, and Carol’s tasty pumpkin muffins to boot.

 

Several of us then enjoyed a leisurely stroll to the stadium, slowly following a hottie in tight jeans and stiletto boots. On the way, we were overtaken by another pair of comely young ladies, but the fleece-lined Uggs they displayed were no match for the spikes.

 

The game was almost a non-event, with the Bears covering the spread just over 13 minutes in and adding another touchdown before the first quarter ended. “And now we sing” became the repetitive battle cry throughout the first half rout, and we spent the better part of halftime wondering how high the Bears would run up the score.

 

Unfortunately, we had seen all the scoring we would want by the time the Bears kicked off to start the second half, as the 49ers were the only ones to put up any points after the break. Their first score was particularly galling, as the boys from the bay giddily tinkled all over their golden pants after kicking a field goal early in the final stanza. Breaking a shutout in that fashion while trailing by six touchdowns is against the rules of football decency, akin to bunting for a base hit to break up a no hitter in the ninth, but our anger was eased when Alex Smith drove his crew of misfits for a touchdown on the very next series.

 

HT and I beat a hasty retreat after the game, as I had other obligations to fulfill. We were within 100 yards of the car when I realized my keys were in the duffel bag I carried to and left at the tailgate, so it was about face, and another 40 minute round trip to the furthest reaches of tailgate land.

 

The evening was spent with my extended family, as we gathered at the wake of my uncle Frank. He passed away last Tuesday, and I know some of you had the good fortune to have spent some time with him. If you did, you know how he lit up a room whenever he entered it. At the funeral today one of his six daughters began her eulogy by saying three things: His door was always open, his mouth was always open, and his refrigerator was always open. It was perfect!

 

Uncle Frank always had a smile on his face, and he never had a bad word to say about anybody. As some of you surely know, I could take a page from that book. They said he could walk into a room full of strangers and walk out with a room full of friends, and it was true. I can only think my dad had a great time watching yesterday’s game with him, sharing a salami sandwich and maybe a glass of red wine.

 

I’ll miss him.

 

LBF

10/30/2006