Specifically 4th of July traffic in Chicagoland. I’m driving into the city today, not the norm for those of us from Chicago. We usually opt to stay off the highways on this special day. My kind sisters advised me to stay home, to avoid the traffic, to relax.

But my friend Shannon is having a picnic in her mother’s backyard, and I want to see Mrs. Murphy. Mary Jane Murphy is 96, and when she was 92, newspapers and major news programs covered her daily tennis matches. She was a Eucharistic minister through her early nineties at St. Cajetan, and we used to joke that at 92, she delivered Communion to the elderly in the old folks’ home.

Like my mom, Mary Jane raised ten children, and eight of the Murphys line up grade-wise with eight of the kids in my family. I lucked out by having Shannon in my grade. We’ve been great friends since elementary school.

Today, I’ll visit my ninety-year-old mom and then drive a few miles to Murphy Park, at least that’s what Brian Murphy spray painted on the back brick exterior of the Bell Avenue home when he was a boy. I wonder what Jerome Murphy thought of that when he returned home from his law office on Western Avenue.

Today, I’ll sit in traffic on I-80/94 and thank God for my family, for the Murphys, for swing sets, backyards, barbecues, Tostitos, and bean bag tournaments. I’ll thank God for the eye-hand coordination that sinks the bag in the hole for three points and for victory dances. I’ll thank God for the beautiful day, for picnic benches, basketball hoops, volleyball nets, fat-laden dips and Elvis. (The Murphys are big fans of the handsome rock star in the white jumpsuit.) I’ll thank God for line dances, funny stories, and shared memories. I’ll thank God for Shannon and her siblings who make me feel like part of the family. I’ll thank God for my old friends like Laura who show up – the ultimate key to enduring relationships. I’ll thank God for laughter and love.

And I’ll thank God for my car that runs, for NPR, and for the reliable brake lights on the semis in front of me. And I won’t mind one bit if it takes me a wee bit longer to get to Beverly than usual. It is so worth it.