Intersections

Yesterday was too nice for me to accept that September, especially a Saturday afternoon, means football.  Elmhurst opened its season at home, so Clare was there, and her fiancé had to be there; a team without an o-line coach is hardly a team at all.  Me?  I insisted on driving to Plano, an hour west of Chicago, to see the steel-and-glass house Mies van der Rohe built on the banks of the Fox River.

We didn’t listen to any football or baseball on the radio going; on the way home, I only listened long enough to find out that the Cubs were thumping the Braves, 10-4.  The eventual 14-12 Cubs’ win made for a silver lining of sorts.  Maybe the bullpen is starting to collapse.

I didn’t bump into Jon Lester in Plano if for no other reason he was on the mound at Wrigley.  I was content to watch the White Sox survive appearances by Carson Fulmer and Juan Minaya to beat the Rays 5-4.  Today I’ll quiz my daughter on how well her alma mater did on a September afternoon.