Stacking The Benjamins On 71st Street

Robin is an entrepreneur. She moves the merch!

Florida Water, Step Classes, Racial Healing Circles, long before The Obama Center made South Shore trendy, Robin picked up a clipboard and walked 71st Street, gathering signatures to run for Alderman.

It was February, it was February cold, the kind of cold you only understand if you call Chicago home.

Who does that? I’ll tell you who: a baller.

Throw your hat in the political arena, you’re gonna get beat down. But the loss shapes you, carving humility into ambition like the thumbs of God pressing into clay on the spinning wheel of hope.

Abraham Lincoln lost BEFORE he won. Barack Obama lost BEFORE he won. Donald Trump lost AFTER he won and look at him, whining like a bitch!

In the right order, shaped by the divine hand, before she won, Robin lost.

Yesterday we were standing in line at Reggie’s On The Beach, just off 63rd Street, when a Black Woman approached Robin, “We need you to run again,” she said. “God has a plan.”

Turns out, the woman worked for an opposing candidate but claims to have voted for Robin and that’s the problem with politics, everyone is hedging, covering their bets, winking with both eyes, which is the political equivalent of talking loud and sayin’ nothing.

Robin had fried pickles. I had the blackened catfish. We shared a plate of fries.

After lunch we took a walk along the pier. Looking north you could see the Chicago skyline, some call it The Miracle Mile but it’s not a miracle, it’s just a whole lotta money. Looking south you could see the real miracle, the crooked horizon of those left behind.

I asked Robin what it would take for her to run again. “God might have a plan,” she said, “but I need a warchest.”