After a few days at Holy Cross, I was brought to my new home, in the Heart of Chicago, if you know you know. Many people did/do not know about this neighborhood where I am from. Technically, it’s a couple miles south, and a couple miles west; some call it Pilsen. Some say “you’re from the south side”… some say “you’re from the west side”; neither one of those statements would be untrue… I was south of Madison, I was west of State. Plus, I was born in a hospital on the south side, like Moby says, so… But yeah, my response would always be “I’m from the Heart of Chicago”. Like I said, if you know, you know.
When I was first born, as the first born, my mom, dad, and I lived upstairs from my grandparents, my mom’s parents… actually, grandparent by that time. I missed meeting my maternal grandfather by about a year and a half; that kind of sucks. I would have at least liked to meet him, for him to have held me, his first grandchild, one time, even if I didn’t remember it. It’s kind of sad thinking about it that way… I’m sure my mom was upset over this; never really talked about it though. In fact, I can’t think of one time this has ever come up, although I’m sure it did. My grandfather died of a stroke in early 1975.
My mother’s family was from the neighborhood. There were pictures of my grandmother and her siblings on horseback, on dirt roads, around 18th and Racine. They had lived in the house I grew up in, and the house next door for many years; my mother’s cousins lived next door. Growing up, my grandmother’s sister still lived down the block from us; she was awesome. After a while, I’m sure my dad would remember, we flip flopped with my grandmother, and moved downstairs, while she moved upstairs; maybe it was when my siblings came along, and more room was needed, although both floors were of similar size…
It wasn’t a big house by any means. Well, there was the basement, 1st floor, 2nd floor, and attic; there was a nice sized backyard that was the site of many great memories over the years. There was also a 2-car garage. Yes, we lived on the 1st floor for my entire childhood; there were 2 bedrooms. So, as my siblings came along, we all ended up in one of the bedrooms together; it was that way until I was into my teenage years. I didn’t mind. Obviously, as a baby/toddler, not a whole lot of things that I can remember; the most important part of that time of my life was the love shown to me. Maybe I can’t recall specific instances, but I don’t really need to… I know. In fact, the first memory I can recall was actually the birth of one of my siblings. I don’t recall when my brother joined me on this earth, about 2.5 years later, but the following year, when our sister came along… that sticks out. I remember downstairs in the basement painting a “welcome home” sign in pink, as we awaited the arrival of little sis. This is the first thing I can remember on this journey; I was exactly 3.5 years old.
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