I worked with a kid on the trading floor that had really happy days and really sad days. You didn’t know if you were going to get the nicest guy in the world or the meanest prick.
On the good days, he was the smartest guy in the pit. He was our own Cliff Clavin. He could talk about books, music, movies and he always had great jokes.
On the bad days, he was the nastiest guy in the pit. Let’s just say, he wasn't fun to work with on those days.
My best memory of this guy was attending the Opening Day game in 1993, White Sox versus the Yankees. It was the first game back for Bo Jackson after hip replacement surgery. Bo hit a home run into the right field bleachers on his first trip to the plate. My work colleague and I were filled with excitement in section 119. We went to high five each other, but we missed clapping hands and bounced forearms instead.
That was the day we invented a new high five, at the Bo Jackson game.
Through the years my colleague and I lost contact. Earlier this year he passed away.
Yesterday I went to the library to drop off a book. The Riverside Library has a shelf with new arrivals, one shelf for fiction and one for nonfiction.
I came across a book about the Blues Brothers. I pulled it off of the shelf and opened it up. Inside was a sticker that said that THIS book was dedicated to a patron who was a friend of the library.
The name on the inside cover was that of my colleague who lived his life with the really sad days and the really happy days. The guy who invented the awkward home run high five with me.
It was fitting that the book dedicated to him was about Jake and Elwood Blues and the phenomenon they built off of an improv skit on Saturday Night Live.
I checked this book out immediately. I had an overwhelming connection with it.
I was walking home from the library. A train was stopped at the station, so I sat down and waited for it to pull away.
It was at that time when I felt one of those tingling sensations. The feeling you get when your parents are thinking about you. Like a brisk of air slamming against your body that lets you know your place in the world.
It was my former colleague sending me a message from heaven. He was telling me that he was alright. That he didn’t have the pain and depression that he had when we worked together. The hurt and suffering that he hid when the Pinwheels lit up at Comiskey Park.
The train pulled out of the station and I continued my walk home. The rest of the way knowing that I just experienced another mystery of my faith.
That book… that book was dedicated to a guy I knew. A thousand books on that shelf and I pulled that book.
You see Chalkheads.....
There are signs out there that show us that something, somewhere, someday will bring us eternal peace.
I found that sign in a library book on a warm Monday afternoon in late June.
Keep the Faith and always be astonished.
Today is Anthony Bourdain Day. He was just like my former colleague. A beautiful sole held down by the shackles of depression. Two men who left the world too soon, but are now in a safe place.
Do yourself a favor tonight and stream Anthony Bourdain: Parts Unknown: Season 7, Episode 2. It takes place in Chicago and he nails our hometown with his beautiful words.
Time to start my Tuesday…
… look for a miracle today and make something fun for dinner tonight.
