Seether "Broken"

It took about 42 years for my first real broken bone. (Full disclosure: I'm certain I broke my little toe in 2014, but I never sought medical attention.) The incident followed a long weekend wedding in Indiana resulting in me returning to work that Monday in a fog. After a lunchtime trip (literally and figuratively) on the CTA Blue Line, I stumbled while running up an escalator. Somehow, my middle finger broke my fall and took the brunt of the trauma. In what can be termed a "typical male moment", I iced it and treated it for about 10 days using Dr. Google and Dr. Web M.D. before actually making an appointment with my real doctor.

A visit to a specialist resulted in the unfortunate news: a fractured bone. Six weeks of physical therapy ensued complete with four weeks of wearing a splint. It hasn't been fun, but I've received some great care from all my medical providers. Next appointment: August 9th.

Phil Collins "Strangers Like Me"

"Are you okay?" I heard as I sat staring out the window of the Kinball-bound CTA Brown Line train.
"Um, are you okay?" I heard again.
I looked up and saw two strangers staring at me from across the aisle.
"Who, me?" I gingerly replied.
"Yeah. You look so down. Are you okay?" she asked again.
"Oh. Yeah. No, I'm fine. Just lost in thought I guess."
"Oh, okay," she said and went back to her conversation with her friend.
This happened three days after 9/11 and the genuine concern that stranger showed remains with me today.

Sarah McLachlan "Fallen"

Sometimes life has a way of gently reminding us that things may not be perfect in our life, but they could be far worse. I spent my morning at the Dermatology Department of Rush University. Over the summer, my primacy care doctor noticed a couple suspicious looking moles on my back and referred me to Rush. With my fair skin and collection of freckles and moles, I'm apparently more at-risk for melanoma that your average Joe Suntan. I had to wait two-plus months for their first available appointment, but finally had my full body screening in September. There was one particular mole that concerned my dermatologist, so he took some pictures and arranged for a follow-up visit. Thankfully, today's visit concluded that there was nothing to be concerned with, and I walked away with a clean bill of health and instructions to be vigilant and lather on the SPF-50. 

My mind was preoccupied with thoughts of my $2500 insurance deductible on my way back to work while riding Chicago's "L" train. I was almost too distracted to notice two blind men boarded the train. The two were no more than 18 or 19 years old and were being assisted by an older woman. She gave detailed and helpful instructions to the two guys in a way that was friendly yet firm. "Be mindful of the gap between the platform and the train car," she advised them. "You always want to count the number of stops until it's yours just in case the announcement isn't audible," she added. One of the blind guys who donned a baseball cap appeared more confident than the other. The other reminded me of Conan O'Brien: pale, thin and had a hairstyle much like Conan's. The other detail that struck me (and tugged at my heart) was the look on his face. He looked absolutely, 100 percent terrified. He struggled to board the train and find a seat--his stick was flailing left and right while he reached out frantically with one of his hands trying to find something to hold. The older woman was there to assist, but her role was clear: teach these young blind men to be self-sufficient. She was calm, patient and reassuring, but wasn't there to coddle. She told them not to worry if she wasn't there because there would always be someone willing to help. Within ten minutes, the trio exited the train and exited my life almost as quickly as they entered. To this day, I still wonder about these two boys. What happened to them that caused their blindness? Has the older woman continue to assist them or are they out on their own? What if they try to board the train during rush hour when it's crowded and people are less patient? I haven't shook the image of the frightened guy with the Conan hair and may never do so.

After this incident, I helped a blind person who rode the train one morning during rush hour. He struggled to find his way from crowded train to crowded platform to crowded escalator. I grabbed hold of his arm and reassured him that I would get him through the sea of people. While standing on the escalator, a man gave me a tap on my shoulder. At first, I thought he wanted something but soon I realized he was just giving me a tap to say "you're doing a good deed". It's a friendly reminded to help those who may be afraid to ask for help...and to acknowledge those who do offer assistance. 

Tom Petty "You Don't Know How It Feels"

During a rainy summer night last year my phone buzzed with a text from my friend Allison. She asked what I was doing. "Nothing," I responded. "Great, then get your ass to Wrigley Field. We're going to the Tom Petty show," she quickly shot back. Allison didn't have tickets to the concert, but instead planned to hear the show from our friend's Wrigleyville rooftop. "You're going," she quickly responded before I could drop my excuse for not wanting to go.

As I boarded the CTA train 45 minutes later, the rain fell heavier and faster. This didn't help my cause as I already didn't want to go, but there was no turning back That stormy evening, Petty sounded sharp as I stood under an umbrella on a rooftop deck less than a block from where Petty performed on Wrigley's soggy outfield grass. A couple months after Petty's Wrigley show, he was dead. The former gravedigger turned rock legend died from cardiac arrest, and all I could think about was how glad I was for Allison's text urging me out of my comfort zone.

Alanis Morissette "Ironic"

For weeks during the summer of 2002, I noticed a series of large chalk-drawn arrows on the sidewalk outside my Chicago apartment. These pink arrows first caught my attention during my morning walk to the Southport stop on the CTA Brown Line, but I didn't really take notice to where they led. As the summer wore on, I assumed someone went to great care to draw these chalk arrows because they never faded or washed away following rainstorms. Initially, I likened these arrows to envelopes you get in the mail that say "Important Information Enclosed" and the important information is a solicitation to change car insurance. At best, I assumed the mysterious arrows would merely lead to a yard sale that took place months earlier. One day that summer I would eventually devote some time to investigate where those pink arrows led.

Finally, one warm afternoon, my curiosity got the best of me and I followed the arrows from outside my apartment on Roscoe Street and continued west past Southport, Ashland, and finally to Paulina where the arrows now pointed north. Once again convinced I was headed to a non-existent yard sale, I continued on my quest. About two blocks later, the pink arrows ended at the corner of Addison and Paulina -- the final arrow pointed directly at St. Andrew's Catholic church. Suddenly, this adventure became bigger than I ever imagined.

For nearly two years prior to that summer, I regularly attended church at St. Andrew's. Growing up a Catholic, I attended mass with my parents and then continued solo as I ventured off to college and later moved to Chicago. My faith took a hit around that time as news of widespread sexual abuse and scandal within the church rocked the Catholic faithful. Similar to the the #MeToo movement, abuse victims came forward in droves for what seemed like months. One day, after an appeal for church parishioners to donate more money, my frustration boiled over and I never returned after that mass. Months later, there I was standing outside the church I once worshiped. Sometimes in life we feel like we need a sign from above to show us the way. Was this a sign? Was it fate that led me back (a la the pink arrows)? Was it just a case of irony? I don't have that answer.... 

Hi-Five "I Can't Wait Another Minute"

Some things you can't wait another minute for:

• pepperoni pizza after you've had a few too many vodka & sodas
• the elusive 147 CTA bus
• to unbuckle your airplane seatbelt while taxiing to the gate 
• Curb Your Enthusiasm to premiere on HBO
• the length between the voicemail lady to say "if you want to leave a callback number, press 3" and the sound of the beep