11/3/23
I would like to say that Jesus Christ is my icon, but
writing that seems sacrilegious, especially when I think that my Catholic
Church has gotten entirely too carried away with its iconography; it is Jesus
Christ who saves us, not pictures, candles, gold vessels, or relics stored in
churches that are usually entirely too ornate.
But I digress. So Jesus is not
my icon but is, rather, my Lord and Savior, and His Spirit is the guide of my
life. Through the Spirit, I, and all of
us, can be more like Jesus every day. I
often fall short, but, as Jesus himself said
(Matthew 10, 25):
“It is enough for his disciple that he become like his
teacher, for the slave the he become like his master.”
If I can simply follow Jesus’s admonition to be more like
him every day, then my mission in life, my reason for existence, will be
fulfilled.
What about my secular icons?
Richard J. Daley, the mayor of my hometown when I
was born and, during his time, and probably for all time, the most powerful
local politician in the country, comes immediately to mind. The man knew what he wanted to do. He served his citizens out of a sense of
duty, a desire to retain and increase his power, or both. He didn’t take guff from anybody, nor did he
take much advice from anybody. He had a
plan and generally thought about nine steps ahead of everybody. He had a huge role, some say the deciding
role, in deciding whom the Democrats would nominate for president, and when, in
1972, the national party threw him over the side in a bacchanal of banality and
self-destruction, they suffered a disastrous defeat. There will never be another like him. He was mayor of Chicago, and head of the Cook
County Regular Democratic Organization, aka “The Machine,” on the day I was
born. He remained in that post until he
died when I was a freshman in college.
Some say that Mr. Daley was a benevolent dictator, some leave out the
adjective. I, however, would recommend
benevolent dictatorship as the nearly perfect form of government. At least as practiced by Dick Daley, it was
far better than the turbulence, disorganization, and fecklessness that prevails
in Chicago and in our country today.
Another of my icons was Winston Churchill. Were it not for Mr. Churchill’s courage, single-mindedness,
grit, and seeming inability to surrender, Nazi Germany, or perhaps the Soviet
Union, might be alive and running Europe and much of the globe today. Great Britain, and Western civilization,
would reside only in the history books.
For that, I thank God for the indomitable Mr. Churchill.
Jack Bogle was the founder of Vanguard and the man
who popularized the index fund, democratized investing, and broke up the clique
of investment managers who charged outrageous fees for less than mediocre
performance. I met Mr. Bogle on several
occasions and found him to be knowledgeable, amiable, and more than willing to
share his time with a junior guy in the investment business. Years ago, when I wrote a letter to the Wall
Street Journal decrying the fees charged by most actively managed mutual
funds, Mr. Bogle wrote me a kind note thanking me for spreading the word. I still have that note.
One of my childhood icons, Dick Butkus, died only
a few weeks ago. Mr. Butkus was the ultimate
personification of what the Chicago Bears used to be. I started following the Bears in 1965, when I
was eight years old and Butkus was a rookie.
A tough kid from the southeast side of Chicago, Butkus was not only the
meanest, grittiest, and hardest hitting, but also the most proficient,
middle-linebacker of his day and maybe, of all time. Every kid in my neighborhood wanted to be
Dick Butkus. Well, maybe not every kid;
the faster kids wanted to be Gale Sayers, another of my childhood
icons. I was at the game in 1965 when
Sayers, one of the Bears’ other rookie sensations that year, scored six
touchdowns against the San Francisco 49ers, tying a Bear record. He would have broken the record had George
Halas not elected to have Rudy Bukich hand the ball to Jon Arnett when the
Bears were on the San Francisco one-yard line for what would have been a sure
seventh touchdown for Sayers. Most
people said Halas didn’t want Sayers to break the record because Sayers would
then ask for more money the next season.
I believe it. Today, George
Halas is affectionately referred to as “Papa Bear.” Players of the Butkus/Sayers era doubtless
had other nicknames for Mr. Halas.
My brother Dick always was, and always will be, one
of my icons. He was the funniest, and
most insightful, guy I ever knew. He
was my inspiration and my role model, for good and for ill, but mostly for
good. I sorely enjoyed, and so miss, our
Friday evenings together. He was, and
always will be, my big brother and the coolest guy who ever lived.
Finally, my wife Sue is, and has been for 35 years
of a wonderful marriage, my icon. She
is a wife and a mother beyond compare.
My kids and I adore her. Everyone
with whom she comes into contact respects, admires, and/or loves her. She is a wife, a mother, and a lover like
no other. She was made for me and I for
her. I thank God for her every day,
every hour, every minute. She is the
best thing that ever happened to me.
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