Author Archives: Roger Wright

It was back when we all had plenty of time. A late night call. I was up. Scribbling something unmemorable in a spiral notebook under the circular pool of light cast by a metal gooseneck lamp. The caller ID said … Continue reading →

Because when you smiled like spun golden daybreak, planted your palms on your hips and said “I play a bimbo on TV!” there had to be a place to tell the story. It was July. Blisteringly hot on the Chicago … Continue reading →

Ernie Banks died tonight. And in the summer green fields of heaven, they are playing baseball. Later on, I’ll go listen to Steve Goodman sing “A Dying Cub Fan’s Last Request.” But not right now. Tonight I hear the crack … Continue reading →

Fritz died on Christmas Day . . . and I remember . . . Years ago. I’m stepping off the curb, about to cross Damen Avenue one spring Sunday when this car creeps up behind me slow and rolls on … Continue reading →

Alone on an empty sidewalk in an arctic blast of Chicago winter wind that could easily crush a soul. He looks up from his phone. Normally there would be hundreds walking this slight rise in front of the Prudential Building, … Continue reading →

That actually happened. . . At my neighborhood grocery store. Looking up at two skyscraper mountains of sweet potatoes when the woman walks up, stands right next to me and asks the exact same question rippling silently through my mind. … Continue reading →

Just before she snapped this picture, I had brushed some dirt off your gravestone. We were in Asheville, North Carolina. Breathing in that pure mountain air like it was a cool, cleansing tonic that really could clear tubercular lungs. I … Continue reading →

Tonight. Chicago cold winds howl outside while Bonnie Raitt, Emmy Lou Harris and music royalty names too numerous to list start singing inside the golden light bulb warmth of the storied Auditorium Theater honoring Mavis Staples at 75. Inside the … Continue reading →

So the odds of recovery are 94-99%. Pretty good, huh?” We were two middle-aged guys whose morning routine included a walk to the corner to buy a newspaper from a blue, metal stand. Sliding our quarters in the slot, pulling … Continue reading →