Author Archives: Mrs. Fitz

About Mrs. Fitz

Hello! I'm Michele Fitzpatrick, a Chicago writer. Like our town, a work in progress. As a journalist, teacher and writing coach I think all of us live our stories and sharing them creates moments that remind us we're connected. And that is enough.

Observing Observation

Mark Twain  was onto something when he distinguished in an essay between travelers who observe and travelers who absorb. He didn’t have much patience with observers because their minds stayed where they were before their trip and their subsequent opinions … Continue reading

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Counter productive

My uncle was a snug fit at the soda fountain of Howard Johnson’s restaurant in Elmhurst, IL because it was built in 1966 to maximize the number of customers who sat there to order ice cream. His manly frame was … Continue reading

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Sentimental

Writer, actor, producer and director Garry Marshall passed away and took with him one precious example of entertainment’s best quality: sentimentality. He was sheepish about the sentimentality of Happy Days, The Odd Couple, Pretty Woman, Princess Diaries, Laverne & Shirley, … Continue reading

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Reader ready

Recently somebody knocked on my condo door and I opened it to a woman carrying a plate of cupcakes. Bakery momentarily distracted me from noticing that the rest of her did not convey generosity of spirit. If frowns were clothing, … Continue reading

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Suffrage

I understand that Hillary Clinton doesn’t appeal to some folks but I wonder about the reasons. If it’s because she has become familiar to a citizenry that assumes change means new and different, that’s dumb. Change accrues over time. If … Continue reading

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Well seated

Sofas are the most transient among furnishings. Some sturdy stuff has followed me since leaving home, mostly items of solid wood that refuse to die. Not sofas. I’ve had ’em and replaced them like takeout containers that endure only as … Continue reading

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Porch

The porch of our 1950’s suburban ranch settled outside the dining room picture window like a stiff upper lip. Dad placed two canvas sling chairs there. They looked lonesome, like castaways on a concrete island. Our family of five used … Continue reading

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