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When We Was Kids In Chicago

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



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