I learned so much attending the Cubs-Sox series this year. The woman next to me at Sox Park was a Cubs fan. She professed that the Cubs were in her heart but, in her head, she admired the Sox. I believe we have these divided feelings on an array of subjects.

For example, my head sees dynamic change in Forest Park under the current administration but my heart feels that a mayor should never run unopposed.

My head says that we were cited for only one violation on our property but my heart knows there’s a lot more we could do to improve its appearance.

My heart goes out to the troops in Iraq but my head wonders why they’re there.

My head wanted to yell at Little Leaguers my heart stopped me.

Sometimes our hearts want to have one more drink but our heads switch to water.

Our heads may not want to go to a social function but our hearts tell us to be a good sport about it.

My head says that most offenders listed in the newspaper police report will have their cases dismissed; my heart feels like they must have done something bad.

My head gets weary from misguided decisions our national leaders make, while my heart is glad a growing number of Americans feel the same way.

My head forgot to compliment my wife, my heart remembered.

My head doesn’t want to get out of bed in the morning but my heart thinks there may be checks in the mail.

Sometimes my head doesn’t want to ride bikes, go for ice cream, or watch a movie”it just wants to finish a book. Fortunately, my heart can get me out of the chair.

My head says we’re never going to be financially secure. My heart says that money is overrated.

My head is glad to see so many new people making Forest Park their home. My heart misses my old neighbors.

My head says that we can’t afford to take a trip for our 25th Anniversary, my heart says we can’t afford not to.

My head says that I’m sitting in my back yard’s my heart says I’m on the deck of a cruise ship watching clouds pass in front of the moon.

My head wants me to keep my clothes dry; my heart is happy to walk through sprinklers.

My head forgets people’s names; my heart can’t remember them either.

My head hates it when teenagers take over the playground at the Park; my heart wishes they had something better to do.

Well, after receiving that woman’s wisdom, I met a guy at the game who is a big fan of Forest Park. He travels from the South Side to a tavern on Roosevelt Road to meet his friends. They all have nicknames but the only one I can remember is “Chubs.”

When driving to Forest Park, the man noted that, “just when the Eisenhower gets stupid, you’re in Forest Park.” My heart thinks we could replace our slogan “Big City Access”Small Town Charm” with “Exit At Forest Park”Where the Eisenhower Gets Stupid.” Obviously, I haven’t asked my head about it yet.

John Rice is a columnist/novelist who has seen his family thrive in Forest Park. He has published two books set in the village: The Ghost of Cleopatra and The Doll with the Sad Face.