| Radio was the big communicator, back when I | | | | We learned young, that after long hours of the |
| was a kid. Whole families huddled around the | | | | thumping noise. People were inclined to buy you |
| speaker of that hulk. Our minds, working like a | | | | some candy, just to make the noise stop for |
| cotton picker on a hot summer day. We had | | | | awhile. We weren't too dumb. |
| imagination. Vivid, plentiful thoughts, moving | | | | Fighting in Chicago was a prerequisite to boyhood. |
| throughout the story which was being broadcast. | | | | When we would walk down the streets, past the |
| The characters, were like people we somehow | | | | alleys, fear was constant, as all the really bad |
| knew. People who lived right down the street | | | | boys lurked down that alley way. No place for the |
| from us, in the three story apartment building. | | | | faint of heart. We all thought we were tough |
| That apartment building, was a warehouse of | | | | guys back then. Maybe we really were? |
| eclectic personalities, popping from every floor, | | | | No drugs back then, at least, none of us every |
| and every door. | | | | heard about them. Our parents made vague |
| Old cars, now relics of the past. New, when we | | | | references to drugs, in retrospect, but, really, |
| were young. Cool cars too, metal so thick, you | | | | they didn't even know what they were. Although, |
| could hurt your hand just bumping into it. Lasted a | | | | Pops knew what beer was. He knew all about |
| long time, and made moving about the big city of | | | | that. All the World War 2 guys drank beer. |
| Chicago much easier than taking the trolley, bus | | | | Because, they really were tough guys. We didn't |
| or "EL", short for elevated train. | | | | know that you could be tough, and not drink, and |
| Oh yes, want to get the scare of a lifetime, ride | | | | smoke cigarettes. |
| the "EL" around one of those sharp corners, thirty | | | | Life in the alleys of Chicago, was not only for |
| feet off the ground. Steel wheels grinding against | | | | tough guys. It was an avenue for commerce as |
| steel tracks, making sounds so shrill,the devil | | | | well. The coal man came with the truck, and |
| himself, would cringe. I know my Mom's hands | | | | shovelled coal down a shute into your basement, |
| were crimped for a week, when I would grip her | | | | to keep your furnace going. Thats right coal. Black |
| hand so tight around those curves. | | | | smoke billowing from everyone's buildings. |
| People wearing clothes that made them all look | | | | Men selling rags, singing a song that was well |
| like gangsters. Suits way to large, cuffs on shirts | | | | known to us. "Rags, Rags, everyone needs rags, |
| that could hide a deck of cards, and a pair of dice. | | | | Ragman coming, come and gettem" Gosh, they |
| Litter blowing everywhere, down windy streets, | | | | sold everything in those alleys. |
| sweeping dicarded cigarette packages, and paper, | | | | Milkmen, with horse drawn carts. Oh now, we |
| and dirt, like a hurricane unleashed. It is the Windy | | | | loved those horses. They were huge with covers |
| City, after all. | | | | over their eyes. As kids we didn't know what |
| Another memory comes to mind now, tennis balls | | | | those were. We really didn't care as long as we |
| being bounced off the lowest step of building's | | | | could pet the horses. |
| porches. Thump, thump, and crowds of kids | | | | The milkman was kindly, and chipped off chunks |
| leaping over one another, trying to catch the ball, | | | | of ice, from the big blocks in the wagon, which |
| as it bounced high into the air. No kid would even | | | | kept the milk cold. We absolutely loved that. Ice, |
| care to watch that now, much less participate. | | | | who would think that a little thing like that would |
| We did it for hours. Boredom played tricks on the | | | | be so important to little kids. I will always be |
| mind. | | | | gratefull to that man for his kindness. |
| Did I mention, the best steps to bounce a ball on, | | | | Scissor and knife sharpeners. They all had a song. |
| were the steps of Peterson's store. To us, it was | | | | Singing loudly, I admired them so. They were the |
| the candy depot. Apothecary jars, filled with | | | | best kind of entepreneurs. Business men, who set |
| candy of every description. Hands full of candy | | | | their own pace, in a world of frantic motion. |
| for pennies. Kids drool when I tell them how much | | | | There is so much more to those days. So many |
| candy, they could have bought back then with | | | | memories that were the best kind of life |
| two dollars. | | | | experiences, back when we was kids in Chicago. |