There, coiled and ready to strike, was a Mojave green rattlesnake. Its tongue flickered in and out as it locked its eyes on me, and for a moment, time stood still. My heart pounded in my chest; I could feel the blood drain from my face.
I loved watching Cubs baseball and listening to Harry Caray’s distinct cadence and unrestrained enthusiasm when calling a game. For me, Harry Caray was a master at creating a shared language and a communal space where stories unfolded and life lessons were inadvertently taught—stories that revealed the deeper truths about our lives, our hearts, and our society.