The Show Goes On…

The South Side

East 79th Street

The CTA(#14 & #6)

The Regal Theater

Leon’s BBQ chicken

White Castle’s on Stony Island

Jackson Park Hospital

Jewel Foods



Harold’s Chicken Shack (87th & The Ryan)


Long John Silvers

Lake Shore Drive


Visiting the zoo

Navy Pier

The Sears Tower (no asterisks needed)

Roosevelt Road

Forest Park



Riding the El; the Blue Line

95th Street

Carson Pirie Scott

Marshall Field’s

State Street


Walking to and from school

Walking everywhere

River Oaks Mall in the late 80s & 90s

The Chicago Bears

The Chicago White Sox

These are some of things and places that remind me of home

These are some of the experiences I shared with my mom

These are some of the reasons that I love my hometown

Yet without my mom’s physical presence,

It’s only the Second City now

It’s like going to the front door of your home only to find that the key no longer works

Another family has now replaced yours

The show goes on

As do my memories

I visualize her riding the train seated in an empty car

Starring out the window

She looks content and at peace

Does she realize that I still look for her

Devastated that I wasn’t there when she boarded


Rose of Sharon

This poem is dedicated to the loving memory and everlasting legacy of my mom.

When a mother needs rest

God knows what is best

When a mother has fears

He is the one who hears

When a mother has doubt

He reminds her that she was chosen by Him to nurture the precious life in her care

When a mother loses her way

He illuminates her path

When a mother loses hope

He is her Lily in the Valley

He is the only one who can separate mother and child

Yet only doing so in the flesh

He weeps for her children’s broken heart

Knowing that they often forget

Understanding that in times of grief we don’t realize how much love grows unendingly

Only He can care for a life so well lived and cherished as a mother

She is now safe in his care

A beautiful Angel in the Spirit world

She is everywhere

“I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys.”

Look Mom, I did it!

Hi Mom,

I miss you so much. I would ask you how you are doing but I know that because you’re with God, you are excellent!

Well, today is the day. Today marks my 25th work anniversary. Isn’t this crazy? Do you remember when you came into my bedroom to “remind me” about attending the information job session at O’Hare? Remember when I told you that I “forgot” about it, as my reason for not going? And remember when me you turned on your heels, grabbed the Chicago Tribune ad, and read aloud there was another session…in Buffalo Grove.

“Where is Buffalo Grove?”, I asked. To which you gave me a map (an actual map), along with your Cellular One cell phone and told me to figure it out.


I tried to come up with all kinds of excuses. Like, I was waiting on the Chicago Sun-Times to call me back about that editorial job that was basically promised to me a week earlier. Quick sidebar: I’m still waiting on that callback.

I didn’t see the big picture but clearly you did. You understood what I wanted, while knowing what I needed. You always wanted me to be a self-sufficient woman. One who has her own money, resources and agency. You always cautioned me to depend on myself “because Man may fail you.”

I have been on an exhilarating ride filled with opportunity, tough times, promotions, relocations. I have met people who have changed my life beautifully. Some of my wildest dreams have been fulfilled. All because I was obedient. And because I had you for a Mom to guide me. You knew that one day would be today. You knew that one day you would have to go home, and I would have to find my way in the world. You wanted to be sure that I was prepared. Not for the void that is now as much a part of me as my own skin; you wanted to show me how to live. To live well. To explore the infinite possibilities available to me. To live my life fully. To be unabashedly brilliant. Just like you.

Thank you Mom for giving me all that you had so selflessly and lovingly. I will honor your legacy every day of my life.