Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Why I Wrote It Happened in Chicago

As a child growing up in Springfield, Illinois in the 1950s, I have fond memories of visits to Chicago. I vividly recall my first ride on the "L," Brookfield Zoo, the amazing Christmas decorations in the downtown store windows, and the house on South Ada Street where my aunt, uncle, and three cousins lived.

When I told friends and family I was writing a book called
It Happened in Chicago, their responses included: "Is there anything that didn't happen in Chicago?" "What happens in Chicago, stays in Chicago." "Chicago! Chicago! That toddlin' town!" (usually sung loudly and off-key) Like those responses, the events covered in this book range from the sad to the strange to the sublime, with brief stops at silly, sobering, and spectacular.

The book is dedicated to the memory of Willis J. Potts, MD, who (for all practical purposes) saved my life. Certainly he helped secure the quality of life that I enjoy to this day. I am thrilled to be able to honor his memory in a small way with
It Happened in Chicago.

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