Thoughts from Dr. Joe: The Swoop’s still hot

I pulled in front of Weston Hall at the University of Illinois at Champaign-Urbana. I’d just topped off the tank at a buck 79 for unleaded; I was in hog heaven. Coleen Long, Katrina Botto and Sabine Puglia were waiting for their first college road trip. A Swoop!

“Swoop’s on!” I exclaimed.

“Let’s go,” they responded.

We beat feet and headed north to Chicago.

There’s something magical about swooping and traveling on the slightest provocation. Robert Louis Stevenson described it best when he wrote, “I travel not to go anywhere, but to go.”

When I was a butter bar at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina waiting deployment, there was a place on base called “swoop circle.” Each Friday, Marines would line the circle and wait for a ride to all points north, south, or west. A car would pull up and the driver would yell out a destination. For example: “Detroit!” “Chicago!” “New York!” A bunch of Marines would pile in the car and the driver would speed away.

“Swoop’s on!”

Sergeant Grayson, who supervised the melee, described it as “sheer pageantry.” If you’ve read me, you’ll note I’ve used that term a thousand times.

I hit the afterburners of the rental, and we shot toward Chicago. We’d join Dr. Brookey and the LCHS Concert Choir at Giordano’s for deep-dish pizza. There’s a genius to Jeff Brookey; it’s his ability to connect with the kids. He does it with love.

I saw familiar faces: Zoey Joy, Gracie Mekikian, Jack Jones and Nicole Alexander. Assistant Principal Jim Cartnal didn’t realize I was serious about sneaking him out of the hotel so he and I could tear up the South Side. We’d meet the choir on Saturday at Old Saint Patrick’s Church for an evening concert.

I lived in Chicago in ’73 and still know my way around. I took the girls through the neighborhoods to experience Chicago’s Zen: Lincoln Park, South Side, Lake Side, Cicero and the Loop. “Girls! Tomorrow I’ll take you on a tour of Wrigley Field, the oldest ballpark in the National League.”

They rolled their eyes.

“Drop us off on Michigan Avenue. We’re going shopping at Zara’s,” one of them said.

“How about Saturday night I show you the bar in the South Side where me and my Marine buddies whooped some local toughs?” (I was a lot faster then.)

“No thanks! We’re having tapas at the Purple Pig.”

The problem with kids today is they have no appreciation for nostalgia.

The girls shopped for seven hours while I hung at Sip Café and finished the 13th edit of my book. Clarere! Audere! Gaudere!

The girls missed the best focaccia at Damato’s Bakery on Grand. It was so good I think I might move back to Chicago. Ask for Rosanna! She’ll treat you like family.

As promised, we met the choir at Old Saint Patrick’s Church in Greek Town. There, five years as an LCHS parent came full circle. Before the choir performed their signature piece, “Lord Hear My Prayer,” Dr. Brookey asked Sabine, a choir alumnus, to join the ensemble. She joined hands with her sister, Simone, who was on tour with the choir. I’ve been known to have some rough edges, but seeing them hold hands and watching their expressions as they sang this magnificent song amid heavenly surroundings, I felt emotions I can only describe as sheer pageantry.

How can anyone thank Dr. Brookey for the gifts he’s given these kids? The lyrics from Lulu’s “To Sir, With Love” will have to do. “If you wanted the sky, I would write across the sky in letters; that would soar a thousand feet high: To Sir, With Love.”

After, the choir left for Medieval Times; the girls went for tapas at the Purple Pig and I headed to the South Side for shooters with some good ol’ boys. That’s swooping!

--

JOE PUGLIA is a practicing counselor, a retired professor of education and a former officer in the Marines. Reach him at doctorjoe@ymail.com. Visit his website at doctorjoe.us.