(Not Just) Another Brick In The Walk

Yesterday, in the sunny cold—sounds like a contradiction, but no—of Chicago, my brother and I made our way to Wrigley Field to locate our late father’s memorial brick I ordered last year, and were flustered at how many we had to search through.

Among the thousands laid into the pavement in front of and to the south of Wrigley, various bricks were installed in groupings named after former Cubs players (e.g. Dawson, Sandberg, et al). However, upon receiving my replica brick last week, the Cubs organization failed—as they did with other memorial brick recipients, I would learn—to indicate in which section ours was located.

Thus, Scott and I searched for nearly an hour alongside others just as frustrated as we were. Yet just as both of us—in the throes of burgeoning eye-strain headaches—were about to pack it in, and try again another day, I spotted our dad’s brick beside ticket booth #14 to the left of the park’s front gates.

It was rewarding to see it there, and I took a few pics, including one of myself and Camille (who came along to supervise).