Benny Jay: Keep on Running « The Third City

Benny Jay: Keep on Running

June 18th, 2009

I’m running along the lakefront on a glorious summer eve. The sun’s setting on the lake, the boys on the rocks are smoking their weed, and I’m having one of those I-love-you-man moments for Big Mike and Milo.

It’s cause I just got off the phone with Big Mike who’s telling me everything I have to do with the Blog now that we’re moving to our own site. He’s so excited he wants to send out an email to tell the whole world. He’s scaring me with all the details. I’m frightened by anything vaguely high tech. I’m not sure why. If I ever get around to getting the psychological assistance that I so clearly need it will be just one of the things near the top of the list….

I follow the gravel path as it edges around the golf course. I see a raccoon — this is the time of night when they come out.

As I jog along, I’m trying to remember when I met these guys. Let’s see Milo? Oh, yes. April 1981. Sunday morning. At a restaurant on Lincoln Avenue. He was having breakfast with Sharon, his wife. My wife knew them. She introduced us. I was new to town, and hanging around with this really depressing artsy-fartsy crowd. Milo showed promise. He was into the Bulls. That day we watched the Bulls play Boston in round one of the playoffs. The Bulls had Rickey Sobers and Artis Gillmore. I thought they were going all the way to the finals. Boston kicked their butts. I was devastated. Brooded all night. Milo pretended he didn’t really care. As you can see, nothing has changed….

I pass a bunch of kids — 18, 19, 20 years old — sitting on the rocks smoking their weed. They’re watching me run and they’re laughing. Can you imagine that? Laughing at me! The old guy, waddling down the path.

I think about Big Mike. Let’s see — where did I meet him? I can’t remember a precise moment. It had to be way back in the early 80s, around the time I met Milo. Must have been at a party. We were always going to parties. He’d be telling jokes. I thought he was the funniest man alive. One time we were driving down the street and he looked out the window and said — “there goes my second wife.”

You’re second wife? I didn’t know there was a first! Man, we were like those boys on the rocks — laughing our asses off….

I go by the Waveland running tower and double back. I pass this weird looking dude who’s wearing layers and layers of clothing. Like he’s got everything he owns on his back. There’s a family of five — a man, a wife and kids — feeding Dorito chips to a raccoon. Don’t see that everyday. And then there’re my boyz, the weed smokers. Looking out at the lake, higher than a kite, still laughing, though at least not at me….

I think back to when this whole blog thing started. One cold day in November. I was riding my bike on Clark Street and I had this idea. Journalism as we know it was crashing down all around us. Every dumb fuck in the world had a blog. Why not me? So I called my two friends. And one thing leads to another….

I kick it into high gear. I’m tired but I tell myself to keep running. I sprint for the tree at the end of the path. I touch it and stop. Bend over, hands on knees. Chest heaving….

Damn, the whole world is changing. Crashing down all around us. Half the time I don’t know what I’m doing or where I’m going and sometimes I fear I’m too scared to make a move. But I keep running — me and my two oldest friends….