My first home was in an area of Chicago just north of Garfield Park. I lived at the corner of N. Chicago Avenue and N. Monticello Avenue and attended the local school, Ryerson Elementary, for the first part of my school life.
My only school memory, was getting in trouble during kindergarten. I remember nothing else about school in Chicago.
Last week we took the "L" to Oak Park and passed by the old neighborhood and could see what it looks like. I have been constantly advised that it is not a great neighborhood and that I’m better off not going back. Some time, I do think that I will disregard the advice and see what it looks like now. During the day, of course.
For some reason, probably a combination of old age and my young age at the time, I only have very spotty recollections of my life there. We lived in a three story apartment house that was so old, that it still had an ice box in the kitchen. The ice box had a door on the back porch, that was used by the ice man. He would put a block of ice in every day or so and that is how it kept cold.
The building itself, was a three story walk up with two apartments on each floor. It had a sun room and two bedrooms. I always thought that it was close to a slum building, even then. It was located behind the Alamo Theater and that made it convenient to see the Saturday morning movie. The Alamo Deli was on the next block. This was my families business. It had been owned by them for years and in fact, that is where my parents meet. Due to the store, we seldom really got out of the neighborhood.
I think that the building would probably be in the same condition now, if it was still was in existence.
I have checked Google and it looks like a gym has been built on the site where I lived and on Chicago Avenue, that entire block has been replaced with a charter school and a health center. I guess that is better than a theater and a deli. Good thing the fact that the buildings don't exist, can't take away the memories of a better time.
When we get together with family, we all have good memories of growing up. In my case I do remember some moments. One is my father carrying me to the sleeping porch so that I would be more comfortable during the summer I had a very big cast on my leg and could not walk at all. Of course it was a very hot July 4th that year and I was given sparklers to help celebrate the holiday. I caught my jeans on fire and ended up with a third degree burn on my other foot. Well you need a matched set. I remember being chased by my cousin and ending up pushing the front door of the apartment building. Since it was a divided glass door and not safety glass I cut my arm when it went through the glass section and I pulled the arm out before the glass had fallen out, so I got cut again.
Then there was the time that my brother and I were in a very large wagon and it got hit by a garbage truck. The wagon was damaged and the company wanted the family to pay for damage to the truck? We had rolled out into an alley and the truck struck us. I don’t remember if we paid for the repairs, instead of suing them for money that we could have used to pay for college for both of us.
Well this is how it works: if you don’t want to remember growing up, don’t go anywhere near were you lived when you grew up.
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