Early this morning—long before the sun—I was up in a panic. And I think I know why . . .
Not immediately obvious why it would set off such a panic in me. It’s far removed from the stuff that usually frightens me.
You know the type of character I’m talking about. You may be one of them. Loud and brash. Braying one moment, bawling the next. A lot like each other, even if they ostensibly hate each other.
Back then, Jane Byrne was the mayor. I will withstand the temptation to recite more ancient political history. I’ll just say that Byrne emerged from old man Daley’s machine, and her victory led to Harold Washington’s election, just as his untimely death in 1987 led to what we have now . . .
Obviously, James’s movie would have been much different had Mayor Rahm stayed in the race. But if you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with. As the song says.
You need 12,500 voter signatures to make the ballot. Each of these signatures can be challenged by your opponent. An election judge renders a decision on that challenge. Either side can challenge the judge’s decision. Ultimately, handwriting analysts may be dragged in. Voters may be subpoenaed.
