Killing 'devastating' to longtime friend

Reporter, victim knew each other for decades

Friday night, I learned that my former neighbor and longtime friend Mike McKenna was one of the four people killed in the downtown shooting spree Friday. The news was unbelievably devastating.

I've known Mike and his family since 1983, when my mom, Janet, moved into a row of lakefront town houses in East Rogers Park where the McKenna family lived. When my husband and I moved into another of the town houses two years later, Mike, his wife, Pam, and their three young children became both neighbors and friends.

I watched as Mike's three now-grown kids -- Matt, a Chicago cop, Warren and Amber -- grew from fresh-faced children to productive, caring adults. When I danced at his children's weddings, I witnessed the joy of a man who knew he had done a damn good job of raising his children. And when I attended Amber's baby shower and then later first saw Mike with his grandchildren, it was as if he had rediscovered the meaning of life. He was ecstatic to be a grandfather.

When Pam died unexpectedly, a few weeks before her 50th birthday, we grieved with Mike, and cried with him, and then, sadly, were with him as he buried his wife. Heavily mourning his loss, we tried to spend time with Mike, and my husband and I would invite him over for Bulls games and try to cheer him up. Sometimes, we actually succeeded! (Not sure if that was from the Bulls winning the championship, or us!)

And when Mike found love again, with Suzanne Malec of the city's Department of Environment, we were thrilled to dance at his wedding as he had danced at ours. We thought Suzanne was the perfect mate. They soon had a young son, Jonah, and now another child on the way. Life was good. ... Until now.

I think what I'll always remember and love Mike most for, really though, happened when my oldest daughter Tedi, now 21, was 2 years old. I was all alone when Tedi passed out due to a high fever. She went limp, and I ran hysterically to the McKennas' house, where Pam immediately performed mouth-to-mouth on Tedi, and Mike tried his best to calm me, poor guy, as I was a complete basket case. The two of them then rode in the police wagon that doubled as an ambulance with me to St. Francis Hospital in Evanston, where they took control of the situation and stayed with me until my husband arrived. Good thing, because I was useless. And the funny thing is, later, Tedi became a baby-sitter to one of Mike's grandkids, just as occasionally Mike's kids had baby-sat for me.

Mike moved out of the town houses a few years ago, and I hadn't seen him as much, obviously. But he'll be sorely missed by all who knew him around this neck of the woods, no doubt about that.