Our Stevie

Dear friends. We wish you A happy and a health new year. May your year be sweet, like apples and honey. May god write you into the book of life for one another year. OK God, what are you thinking. what is the idea of "Not so fast Mr. Daley ."

It is unimaginable to think about a political season, yet alone the rest of our lives, without Steve Daley. My Stevie, as I fondly called him to piss him off, died last week. It is unclear exactly when, but the day is not as important as the loss. And it is a gi-normous loss not only for those of us who were friends, but those of us who were readers and students and just fans.

There will be obits in the Chicago newspapers, not because he lived there, but because he worked there. And then he didn't. But I'm not going to waste precious blob space on stupid people who made idiotic decisions. Steve wasn't just a wonderful talented political expert, an incredible sports writer, and an incredible story teller. He was a comforting drinking and eating companion. I could always count on him to share a vodka, some red wine and a glob of caviar or some lobster on any occasion. It is nearly impossible to imagine Stevie, as a "he was"because he will always be an "he is" for us. There are no words of comfort to offer, to make anything better. There is a permanent hole in our hearts. The only thing that makes me smile is thinking about Daley and MacNelly, riding around in heaven, in a big old heavily-finned Desoto, smoking cigars, totally lost, and unwilling to ask directions just to sooth the urge to navigate. . Because if anyone can be lost in a cloud, it would be those two amazing characters. We’re just sayin’…. Iris