We were too little to reach the door bell and not strong enough to knock on the door or anything, so we would go two houses down to our cousins' house -- to the back door -- and yeal,
"Yo Renayyyy. Yo Lynette!!"
Or they would come to our back door and yell,
"You Kath-el-leen!! Yo Jenniferrrrrr!!"
(In Chicago Kathleen is a three syllable word sometimes.)
Our parents built houses on the south side of Chicago and we moved into ours a month before our sister Jenny was born on August 1, 1954. I was the oldest of the girl cousins/sisters and our cousins John and Tom were the oldest boys. Our Uncle John was Mom's older brother -- the eldest of four siblings, the first two boys and the second two our Mom and her sister.
We lived on the block until the summer of 1961 when we moved to a little lake community about 45 miles northwest of Chicago.
There were ten houses on the block and ours was the second. The block ended in a field with a lot of junk in it and then a gas station. The furthest south street was 127th right there -- then the Big Bend of the Little Calumet River and when we were a bit older the steel mills a bit further south.
Our world was mostly either the back yards or the basements of our block. Our grammar school was about 7 blocks away and we walked there and back twice a day. We came home for lunch and our cousins and we were the only kids who went to public school. The rest of the houses on the block belonged to families who were Roman Catholic, so those kids had a lot more vacations and saints days and stuff.
They made fun of us when we would trudge home for lunch and when we were still in school and they were already out for the summer or for some holiday.
All the houses on the block were red or blond brick. Each block was a tenth of a mile long and each block had ten houses on it.
At our next door neighbors the dad was a fireman and I wanted to be one, too. on the south side of our house the Connollys lived and their daughter Sharon was our first babysitter. She called me "Pumpkin." Other families included the Coogans, the Crows, the Riles . . . at dinner time Dad would ask us to tell him the names of all the neighbors.
Sometimes we would ring door bells and run away . . . Mrs Crow liked that least of all.
West Pullman Park and West Pullman Methodist Church were in our neighborhood and by the time we were in second grade we could go there by ourselves. There was also a fruit stand a block or so east of our house on 127th St. If we found or could talk our moms out of any coins, we walked or rode our bikes there.
We took piano lessons a few blocks away when we started first grade. By then we also had permission to ride bikes or roller skate all around the block as long as we didn't cr0ss any streets.
The gas station at the end of the block sold gas for 15 cents . . . 16 cents . . . 19 cents and a guy would come out and pump it . . . wash the windshield . . . check the oil . . . you know all that.
When our grandmother passed away in 1994 a man standing on the other side of her grace looked at me and asked, "Nancy?"
I replied, "No, Mr. Coogan. I'm Kathleen."
Pretty good for not having seen him since 1961 or so, eh?
Yo Renayyyyyyy! Yo Lynnnetttttt!
Can you come out to play?
"Yo Renayyyy. Yo Lynette!!"
Or they would come to our back door and yell,
"You Kath-el-leen!! Yo Jenniferrrrrr!!"
(In Chicago Kathleen is a three syllable word sometimes.)
Our parents built houses on the south side of Chicago and we moved into ours a month before our sister Jenny was born on August 1, 1954. I was the oldest of the girl cousins/sisters and our cousins John and Tom were the oldest boys. Our Uncle John was Mom's older brother -- the eldest of four siblings, the first two boys and the second two our Mom and her sister.
We lived on the block until the summer of 1961 when we moved to a little lake community about 45 miles northwest of Chicago.
There were ten houses on the block and ours was the second. The block ended in a field with a lot of junk in it and then a gas station. The furthest south street was 127th right there -- then the Big Bend of the Little Calumet River and when we were a bit older the steel mills a bit further south.
Our world was mostly either the back yards or the basements of our block. Our grammar school was about 7 blocks away and we walked there and back twice a day. We came home for lunch and our cousins and we were the only kids who went to public school. The rest of the houses on the block belonged to families who were Roman Catholic, so those kids had a lot more vacations and saints days and stuff.
They made fun of us when we would trudge home for lunch and when we were still in school and they were already out for the summer or for some holiday.
All the houses on the block were red or blond brick. Each block was a tenth of a mile long and each block had ten houses on it.
At our next door neighbors the dad was a fireman and I wanted to be one, too. on the south side of our house the Connollys lived and their daughter Sharon was our first babysitter. She called me "Pumpkin." Other families included the Coogans, the Crows, the Riles . . . at dinner time Dad would ask us to tell him the names of all the neighbors.
Sometimes we would ring door bells and run away . . . Mrs Crow liked that least of all.
West Pullman Park and West Pullman Methodist Church were in our neighborhood and by the time we were in second grade we could go there by ourselves. There was also a fruit stand a block or so east of our house on 127th St. If we found or could talk our moms out of any coins, we walked or rode our bikes there.
We took piano lessons a few blocks away when we started first grade. By then we also had permission to ride bikes or roller skate all around the block as long as we didn't cr0ss any streets.
The gas station at the end of the block sold gas for 15 cents . . . 16 cents . . . 19 cents and a guy would come out and pump it . . . wash the windshield . . . check the oil . . . you know all that.
When our grandmother passed away in 1994 a man standing on the other side of her grace looked at me and asked, "Nancy?"
I replied, "No, Mr. Coogan. I'm Kathleen."
Pretty good for not having seen him since 1961 or so, eh?
Yo Renayyyyyyy! Yo Lynnnetttttt!
Can you come out to play?
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