From a few years I wrote about Thomas Bickle and his family’s story of his fighting a big, bad brain tumor. He lost the fight. It was sad. His mother wrote a blog about his journey and she wrote very candidly and very well.

I think sometime after Thomas’ death, I wrote a comment on her blog expressing my hope that she would not take it down because I felt it would be a help, a comfort, whatever you want to call it to people who were going through a similar experience. And, quite frankly, I think it helps any reader to be a little better than they are. I believe she had already made the decision to let it stay for others to read.

I didn’t have her blog scheduled to show me any updates, but today I was looking for a reference to an author (Elizabeth McCracken) she had quoted from an article in Oprah, the magazine. (I have linked to Sarah’s blog and not the magazine).

My thoughts went to this author and Thomas because a friend from the past in Chicago is in Paris and posted a picture of Notre Dame on her Facebook page. It was a lovely picture and she mentioned a service was taking place while they were there. My mind went to France and religion and . . . nuns. (Who knows what lurks in the neurons of a brain? And, okay, I did think of the hunchback as well.)

Nuns made me think of the story Sarah had cited and I looked it up on her blog. When I arrived on her front page, I saw that she had updated on September 17th of this year. So, of course, I read her entry. It is an important issue. I wanted to pass it on. Thus, this post.

For decades, I have spread the theory that The Cubs were born to break your heart; in fact, I often cited The Cub Factor when discussing World Series play. The rule was to count up the number of players on each team who were ex-Cubs – the team that had the few number would win.

And it was always a time to rest your head against a wall, too sad to bang it, and watch the Cubs win every straight game after they had become statistically ineligible for the Series.

Last year I waited for the dream to end and even imagined the crushing letdown when the Cubs came so very close. Then, in the last game, I remembered all the movies about BELIEVING and I thought: Believe, AmeliaJake, believe.

And they won and it was wonderful. Where was Frank Capra when you needed him?
Fortunately, it was October and the holiday season showings of “It’s a Wonderful Life” were just on the horizon.

Then this year came; they made it to the play-offs, but the game total wins was 3-1, in favor of the Dodgers. I thought, I am ashamed to say, of the agony watching and hoping and I’m pretty certain I stopped believing; I think I wanted the pressure off. They lost. And part of me is ashamed, because I was to afraid to believe. Yes, I’m breathing, but I didn’t anticipate the sadness; I wish I had believed to the end.