Thoughts after coming close to being a fatality

Many of us have experienced a close call with death. A car just missed hitting our vehicle and plowed into another yards from us. A plane we were supposed to be on crashed. We were present during a mass shooting — an increasingly common occurrence in America.

It’s natural to think, it could have been me.

On Monday afternoon I walked westward through the intersection of Wabash Avenue and Roosevelt Road less than a block from my home. I had just reached the other side when I heard a thud and screams behind me. Turning around, I saw a FedEx truck — with a body pinned underneath. The victim, who died, must have passed me in the crosswalk. If I’d been a few seconds later, I would have been in the spot where the truck struck her. 

Getting permission to read more mysteries

One of Chicago Tribune Biblioracle John Warner’s new year’s resolutions was to read more crime and suspense fiction because he enjoys it. 

I chuckled when I read that. It was the first time I heard anyone say they ought to read more genre fiction. It’s likely for people to resolve the opposite, vowing to cut back on mysteries in favor of “more literary” fiction. Even though critical appreciation of crime novels grows, a puritanical inner voice cautions me that mysteries should be like snacks between substantial nourishment. It felt like the Biblioracle had given me permission to indulge a secret passion.