Michele and I are in
the midst of a “staycation,” which found us yesterday at Lincoln Park Zoo. You can’t beat free admission.
With my wife making
like a 12-year old during a program where two polar bears did stuff for food, I
spied the crowd and saw a familiar-looking face next to me. It belonged to a man in his early thirties
who had one kid in the stroller and another holding his hand. It took me a few seconds to place the face
until, Bingo, that’s the Cubs’ John Lester.
When the program
finished, the Lesters went their way and we went ours, which happened to be in
the same direction. I told Michele who
that was, and she texted Clare; our daughter said uncharitable things in the
way of a good White Sox fan, which I won’t repeat here and didn’t tell Lester
there. You never, ever punish a
celebrity who’s trying to be normal, and you never, ever do that with kids
around. I think Clare would agree, if we
traded places, and I’d probably be the one telling her what to say.
A woman recognized
Lester and his wife and shook their hands.
That was OK in my eyes; show respect and move on. Save the nasty stuff for the blogs.
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