Black Friday. I'm in the thick of it. Just because the weather's cold (29 as I type with brittle fingers), and half of America has a day, I'm here. Each newspaper equals income. There's no salary out here in the streets hawking papers. Michigan Avenue is run over by tourists and executives, and suburban moms. The moms are kind, dropping a few coins into my tip jar even if they don't buy a paper. It is nice to see they understand how hard a life this is. Every dollar counts. Every dollar helps me make it another day, drinking another cup of coffee hoping tomorrow will be warmer, better. Someone even gave me $20.00 for a buck and half paper. Ma'am, I hope God smiles on you today. Thank you, who ever you are. Sales are brisk, though they come in spurts. People grab a paper on the way in from the L and the Metra, sit down in a Starbucks and flip through looking for Black Friday sales. Black Friday is here. Black Monday is coming.
