Anniversaries

Anniversaries Thirty-four years ago yesterday, the White Sox clinched the AL West against the Rangers at Comiskey Park. I remember it well. Michele and I had just come back to our apartment from seeing John Sayles’ “Baby It’s You.” I remember Vincent Spano and Rosanna Arquette and the fact this was the first and last time we went to the show in the town of Cicero. The Olympic Theatre was the kind of place you might have bumped into Joe Mantegna. My friend Dan called as soon as the game ended; he was thinking World Series, not losing to the Orioles in four. Dan has been dead, what, fifteen years now. Before today, the last time I stood in line to get inside a Frank Lloyd Wright building was May 27, 2017; maybe it was the Cheney House. Anyway, Clare called to tell me the Sox had spent a whole lot of money to sign somebody named Luis Robert. Today, she texted while we were in line (maybe the Balch House) about her high school alma mater winning its second conference game of the season, in September. Trust me, end times. Last night, the Sox were playing the Rangers again, this time in Texas. Robert got three hits in a 8-0 shutout. It would’ve been nice to get a call from Dan.