Falling down. Getting up.

When I recently flew out of Chicago and looked down on the city, it struck me the number of ways in which I am connected to it.  My father was born there and I have childhood memories of visiting relatives and the Brookfield Zoo.  I attended The University of Chicago for a master’s degree from 1974 to 1976, all the time driving around the Southside in a yellow VW with Alabama plates.  I had some wonderful clients in Chicago, particularly education companies at a pivot point in their development.  Now I visit Chicago once or twice a year for a business meeting.  I don’t want to live there, but I have a retrospective appreciation for its place in my life.

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