I feel truly bad for young people who have no occasion to go to the funerals of older people who have lived good lives. One of the loveliest things about living in Blue Island is getting to know our neighbors, who come from all walks of life. Observing milestone events in the lives of our friends and neighbors has helped me to appreciate this journey we are all on together, and to feel more connected to other human beings.
Earlier this year, my neighbor Mildred passed away in her mid-90s. She rode the train from Mississippi to Chicago as a young girl in the midst of the Great Migration, and eventually owned her own salon. D and I spent a Friday evening in her company at a funeral parlor contemplating all the changes she saw in her life. She looked beautiful and the funeral home had obviously been unchanged since the 1970s or earlier. I felt very lucky to have the chance to pause in this space outside of time and reflect on Mildred’s time on earth.
Today, we attended a funeral for my neighbor and friend Carol DiPace Greene. Carol and I met attending city meetings, where we both had a great deal to say. We differed in our assessments of local politicians, and we had spoken less since I went to law school, mostly because it was impossible to ever get off the phone with her. She would call to regale me with stories of local corruption, coverups, and send me emails with voluminous attachments from her FOIA requests. She and her friends would joke that I was a young CDPG. This is one of the greatest compliments I’ve ever received, not that Carol was old, herself – she died far too young at 68.
She joined me on the local library board shortly after I was appointed, and I enjoyed being her partner in crime there, and by crime, I mean citizen oversight.
It was always a pleasure to attend meetings with her. She was indefatigable, whipsmart, and a force to be reckoned with even while she was in and out of the hospital fighting cancer. A single mother, Carol and her wonderful son were a fixture in the community, working tirelessly to organize food drives, giveaway events, and all manner of other direct service. One of the world’s truly kind people, Carol never stopped looking for ways to give back, and never stopped fighting for underdogs. I was delighted to meet her son for the first time at her funeral, where he spoke movingly about her life and legacy.
There were at least sixty people there of all ages and backgrounds. I pity young people who only hang out with other people who are exactly like them. When I die, I want to go like Carol: admired by people who have absolutely nothing in common except a commitment to the values and places that connect us.
Spending this time with CDPG, her admirers, friends and family reminded me that what I like most about living where I do is feeling like I can make a difference. When I decided to go to Northwestern for law school, it was in large part because so few people where I live will ever have that opportunity. I am lucky that I live somewhere where I feel like I can use my education and experience and skills to lead and to build things that will help others, rather than feeling powerless or feeling an urge to blame myself or my family for social inequity.
I am lucky that people like Carol showed me how to make a difference in my community and how to live in friendship and solidarity with others.
Rest in power, Carol.