Swinging into spring

Truth in advertising — the Waterlily Tulip, a central Asian flower is known as being first to bloom in the spring and, good to its word, was the only tulip we noticed on display at the Botanic Garden. 

     Monday was a fine day — 80 degrees at O'Hare, a record for March 30 in Chicago, with hardly a cloud in the sky. I did not shuck my responsibilities, initially. In the morning, I made progress on the advance obituary of an alderman who was much more impressed with himself than history will be. A common enough failing and I tried to treat him with a certain mortuary tenderness. Plus, worked out a few of the knots in Wednesday's column.
     But I didn't let work absorb my entire day. That would have been tragic. By noon I was heading to the park with a young lady of my acquaintance, accompanied by her parents, stopping first at Little Louie's for a char dog and a salad, eaten al fresco at a picnic table next to the playground, where dessert was pushing my houseguest on the baby swing, a new passion of hers, discovered yesterday. 
     Well, dessert was really a raspberry chocolate chip cone from Graeter's. But it wasn't as sweet as the swing time was. Then we walked toward the Basin.
      Later in the day, we all headed to the Chicago Botanic Garden which, despite the fine weather, was not particularly crowded. My son met a school friend, and just listening to their conversation was a treat. Smart kids. 
     When evening came, and I had to think about today's post, I realized I had utterly nothing to say, about the political situation or anything else. I was pleased how easily it was all shucked. Not that it isn't important; it is. It just wasn't important today. As scary as the times are, it is good to be able to set them aside for a memorable afternoon. A luxury achieved by not being afraid of anyone or anything, and having resources and family and living in a good place. None of them were accidental, or even easy. None are permanent. But they're all here now, for a time, and I'm glad to be able to appreciate them while they are. What's the Crosby, Stills & Nash  lyric? "It was a long time coming; it'll be a long time gone." Tuesday morning I'll have to get that column into final form and off to the public, like meat tossed into a river of piranha. 

     But that isn't so bad either. Monday's column on immigration drew a ton of feedback. I appreciated the praise, and gave the boggled outrage the attention it was due, which was far less consideration than I devoted to my job as a kiddie swing attendant. A man needs to have his priorities in order.