RRC Archives

A time when Penicillin would take care of all a persons poor judgements.

Just to put out some comparisons, growing up in an apartment in Chicago in the 70's and early 80's:

dipsi wrote:My grandparents Howard didn't have a TV or phone until I was 9.

We somehow survived with ONE TV! For the whole family! Crazy, I know. And only 3 phones, all of them teathered to the wall with a 'cord' - neither my sister or I ever got a phone in our rooms, let alone our own phone lines! We were soooooo deprived!

Grandma would yell, "Airplane!" and we would all run outside to squint and try to actually see it!

We were a bit south of one of the flight paths into O'Hare, then (maybe still?) the busiest airport in the world - so we got our share of planes overhead - but still high enough that they weren't loud. What we could hear was the cheers when there was a home run at Wrigley Field. In those days, there were no lights at Wrigley - day games only!

When Grandma said, "An idle mind is the Devil's playground," you knew a hoe was going in your hand.

Being an apartment building, there was a janitor (or three) to do the mowing and landscaping. It was a 'treat' to 'get to' mow the lawn at my grandparents' house!

I didn't know at the time, but Grandpa's road was so rough, we were early mountain bikers. We rode barefoot.

We were right off of the lake front park, so we could ride our bikes a few miles to the north and a few miles to the south down to the Loop and beyond. But this was the 'time before Kryptonite locks', so the old chain and padlock didn't mean your bike would still be there if you rode somewhere and left it for long. If we were going somewhere, we'd hop the bus or El train - the best was if you got a paper transfer that the bus driver was too lazy to punch the time on! All day bus pass! Then there were the machinations involved in getting on the bus, having the driver check your transfer, then passing it back to your friend so he could get on for free!

Starting in Fourth or Fifth grade I took the bus to school. Not a yellow school bus - I walked a couple of blocks to Broadway, got the 36, took that a few blocks to the turnaround for the 8 Halsted, and transfered. Coming home, I would ususally skip the transfer back to the 36 and walk the rest of the way past the 'transients welcome!' hotel with half-hourly rates, past the pawn shop and past the bars that I would later come to understand were part of the seedy side of 'boy's town'. These weren't the gay bars with the blaring disco filled with young guys who spent all their time working out - these were the self-loathing gay bars... Like lead paint and mom smoking while pregnant, between Catholic grammar and high school and living in Chicago's gay neighborhood, I somehow survived unmolested...

We washed our cars, fished, and swam in the creek. Though we held our breath and tried and tried, we never did reach the bottom of the swimming hole. It was below the site of an old mill.

As for cars, being in the city, even in high school, almost none of us had drivers licenses, let alone cars of our own. I got my license when I was 18 I think, so I could occassionally borrow my parents' car (yes, only one car for the whole family! Crazy!) One of my friends finally got his license in his late 20s, and one still doesn't have a license.

Being near the lake, we'd go swimming, but not that often. (Nothing as fun as the alewife die-off each summer!) As we got older, we never went to the beach with the lifeguards on duty - nope, we'd jump in along the 'giant blocks of limestone' breakwater areas with the 'no swimming' stencils spraypainted on the stones. I guess we all should have drowned...

On certain nights, if the atmosphere was just right, you could actually hear the big trucks out on the highway as you drifted off to sleep in a big feather bed. The bed was full of children, and my tummy was full of groundhog and buscuits.

I got the big city fun of sirens and the occasional gunshots to lull me to sleep...

I'm jokingly pointing out some of the bad parts of growing up in the city, but, at least for me, I wouldn't trade it for the 'idylic' rural/small town/suburban childhood.

Hey Di, remeber going out to the cistern and cranking on that handle for 5 minutes to get water?
My brother and I nearly burned down the outhouse once,playing with matches.Who knew TP burned so fast? we knew dad was gonna belt us if it did burn down tho.

tomdarch wrote:

I'm jokingly pointing out some of the bad parts of growing up in the city, but, at least for me, I wouldn't trade it for the 'idylic' rural/small town/suburban childhood.

I know where you are coming from, Tom. A few years of my childhood were spent in LA. I think I had the best of both worlds. The farms were happier times since my parents were alcoholics, and there was no booze and plenty of food on the farm!

ynot wrote:

Hey Di, remeber going out to the cistern and cranking on that handle for 5 minutes to get water?
My brother and I nearly burned down the outhouse once,playing with matches.Who knew TP burned so fast? we knew dad was gonna belt us if it did burn down tho.

Ah, yes! You had to prime the pump or you would crank all day! We also had the long, tubular bucket to drop down into the well. We heated our water with a little-bitty, three-legged coal stove.

I used to hide in the outhouse to keep from getting a spanking. If I waited long enough, my mother would forget about me. Since we had a two-holer, I could let accomplices in and out to relieve themselves. I'd hear her out there muttering my demise, but she never did look for me in the outhouse. Never set it on fire, but we did blow up Grandma's mailbox with a cherry bomb. Mail and newspaper and stuff all over the place! Bwa ha ha ha! What fun!

dipsi wrote:tomdarch wrote:

I'm jokingly pointing out some of the bad parts of growing up in the city, but, at least for me, I wouldn't trade it for the 'idylic' rural/small town/suburban childhood.

I know where you are coming from, Tom. A few years of my childhood were spent in LA. I think I had the best of both worlds. The farms were happier times since my parents were alcoholics, and there was no booze and plenty of food on the farm!

Wow - that is quite a contrast!

That reminds me of my great aunt. She grew up in Chicago in the 20s and 30s - riding the El, ice skating in the parks, going to the museums and at least window shopping at Marshall Field's. After WWII, she met a tall, rugged soldier just back from Europe, fell in love, got married and moved from Chicago to his home - a log cabin on a hilly, rocky farm in northern Arkansas. No running water, an outhouse, minimal electricty and plenty of farm work. It blows my mind to think of the contrast - kind of like 'Green Acres' but way, way more 'rural' than anything on that show!

As a result, my dad got to have some of that 'best of both worlds' - growing up in ethnic, blue-collar Chicago and spending summers on Uncle Herman and Aunt Betty's farm in Arkansas with the horses, swimming hole (with cotton mouths!) and farm work. (Almost 'best' of both - he was going down there during July and August with no AC! Ugh!)

I'm a wuss, I'll never understand the thinking behind the "two-holer". There's one in back of my house wasting away at the edge of the woods in case anyone is interested in early Americana. Does anyone remember Sitty Hall in the early 80's gorge? It was at that place with the pond in front of it now off 77, they sold Pearsal's book and a few biners and tape along with beanie-weinies. You could usually see from the street whether a stop for the facilities was worth it or not since it was up on blocks. gah

The pizza for the day came from "EATS" in Stanton on the ride home.

My great grandparents never had in-door plumbing. They lived on a farm in rural KY and raised eleven kids without it.

And we think climbers are tough..BAH!