the triumphant return of ILMEGU

Years ago I worked as an advocate at a social service agency. It was inspiring, heart-breaking work and I loved my co-workers. We answered crisis hotline calls and somehow it became normal to stop mid-conversation and counsel women in serious need. One of the conversations that we repeatedly engaged in during downtime revolved around a license plate on a neighborhood car. It read, "ILMEGU." For two years, we talked about ILMEGU. We wondered about him. We guessed at the meaning of this license plate.

Fast forward eight years. Claire has been enrolled in Soccer Tots for a few weeks now and imagine my surprise when parked next to me is a shiny blue minivan with that enigmatic license plate. ILMEGU, who are you? What are you trying to say? Why have I still not been able to crack your code these EIGHT YEARS later?

I am desperate, folks. If anyone has an idea what ILMEGU means, please, take a guess. Believe me, it can't be worse than what we imagined it to mean.

A prize to the person who correctly identifies ILMEGU. What is the prize, you ask? That, my friends is a mystery as old and exciting as ILMEGU himself. And, because I am shameless, I will wait in my car for the driver of this illusive blue minivan, and crack the code of ILMEGU once and for all.