my mom hates driving and hates riding in cars too.

she thinks everyone else on the road are big huge poop monsters and shes possibly right.

so today around lunch time i was all, ma, lets go TO WRIGLEY FIELD

she was like, ABSOLUTELY NOT!

i said, how about if we take Irving Park Road all the way down.

she was like, it’ll still be full of crazy pants fools around Wrigley.

i said, true but i promised this sweet young lady that i would write her dad’s name on the wall at Wrigley where everyones writing the names of their loved ones who didnt get to see the Cubs.

still in the glow of last night’s giant victory my mom caved in and there we were driving the slowest route ever from the suburbs to the Friendly Confines.

once we got there it was awe inspiring.

names everywhere. i guess over 108 years a lot of sweet people came and went. and tragically none of them saw the Cubs win the world series.

so here’s why Cub fans are like no other. there was boxes of chalk everywhere. for free.

and there were lots of parentes with their kids and the kids were waaaay into chalking up the wall, the street, light poles, the curb, their sisters, cops, drunk fratboys passed out in the gutter.

i even saw someone put his grampas name on the shoe of mayor rahm emmanuel.

and because every reachable part of the walls were covered: PEOPLE BROUGHT LADDERS AND LEFT THEM THERE SO THAT OTHERS COULD GET UP HIGH AND PUT MORE NAMES UP THERE.

it was such a beautifully colorful outpouring of love, remembrance, and thanksgiving, i nearly started bawling like a baby, because deep down im just a man on the verge of tears when i think about the Cubs and what it means to so many people in this beautiful city

a city, that by the way, has had the most wonderful weather this week. like warm and rainy at night and sunny in the day. freaky nice.

before we went to Wrigley we visited Harry Caray’s grave in Des Plains. i aint never visited a cemetery to see the headstone of a “celebrity” before, and it was kind of amazing.

little known fact: cemetarys dont give a shit if you visit them. in fact, they welcome it. the doors are open, you can drive around easily. and on Find A Grave .com they even tell you where the famous person’s resting spot is.

mom and i drove around the big cemetery for a while, gawking at the unusually large headstones and i expected a group of people or security or something… but when i saw bushels of green apples i knew we were there.

in a previous photo of harry’s grave i saw like 6 apples on his headstone but as you can see, i was not the first person to go there and say bro, they did it. we are champs. and we are thinking of you!

i brought a bottle of Old Style and decided id set it down next to that pumpkin.

but first my mom took this picture.

the two women that you see in the far left corner saw us coming and gave us some time to read some of the things people had written on apples and signs and bags of Cracker Jacks and when they saw us leaving they headed back to his grave. the women were both wearing Cubs shirts and I tipped my hat to them and we told each other how happy we were and how great Harry was and it was so ridiculously sweet i wanted to hug them.

as we got in the car we saw that they were back in front of his grave, tending to it. chatting.

not leaving any time soon.

and weirdly me and mom didn’t really feel like leaving either.

it was an extremely peaceful, chill spot.

i thought, so is this how its gonna be now?

is life just mellow and beautiful after your biggest dream comes true?

hope so.