I Remember Jimmy, Mary, and Johnny, But Most of All I remember Mama

My Mother Margaret. The Catholic Church believes that it is they who decide who are to become saints. I think they are wrong. I think God decides that Himself. You don't become a saint. You are a saint or you're not. My mother was a saint in my lifetime and I believe that God has given her that position in heaven. She lived Jesus's words. She forgave. She helped the needy. She did not have treasures on earth. She turned the other cheek and was not jealous, selfish, greedy, or cruel. Minutes before my grandmother died, she told my mother that she could see Jesus at the foot of her bed. My mother believed it to be true. She had faith, but she did not follow organized religion possibly because nuns were so mean to her and other children in their care when my mother spent her teenage years in an orphanage. There is goodness in her face. Look for yourself. This picture is in front of Mrs. Jones's house. Mrs. Jones liked me; I always thought she would leave me something in her will. She didn't.



Jimmy and me on my father's car. Nice shoes Jimmy. Those shoes are popular today. Back then hats had ear flaps and car windshields were split. The technology to make large curved glass had not been developed yet. The third house, the one above the roof of the car, is the house in front of our little bungalow hiding in the back with all the garages. Millie and her family lived in the front. My landlord, the Gustafsons, lived behind her. Many of the old garages were once horse sheds. Even in the late fifties, there were horse drawn wagons working in Chicago. Wagons would come in the alleys collecting rags and iron. A man would come around sharpening knives. We used to hang off the backs of these wagons as they went down the alleys.




My mother and my Grandmother Freida. This picture was taken with my Yashica twin lens camera before it was stolen when our house on North Avenue was robbed. My grandmother had colorful names for people. She called my Uncle Carl Balloonhead. She called ladies she didn't like either a Bitch on Wheels or Battle ax. Often when she was visiting, we would discover a large pair of her pink underpants drying out in the bathroom. This picture was taken in Humbolt Park. I can see what I think is the public library on California Avenue. I borrowed a lot of books from that library. My mother said I liked to pick out books with blue colors. She said I never read them.




This is the corner of North Avenue and Artesian Street. The store in the building behind me is Advance Hardware Store. At Christmas they would have Lionel trains in their window display. I used to go in there and get a free Lionel catalog. I once lived two stories above the hardware store. If you look behind me you can see stairs that went down to a basement where store deliveries are taken. That bar going across reminds me of the time Jimmy O' Boyle was hanging from it. It was quite a drop down. We were about seven. I was standing with Jimmy's brother Tommy when some meaner older kids came along. They had a stick or something and they started beating on Jimmy's fingers to get him to fall off. Tommy took off like Superman and grabbed that kid around the throat. I mean it was like he was flying horizontal  through the air. That was the bravest thing I ever saw. The boys ran off and Jimmy wasn't hurt. Jimmy and Tommy never had a father that they knew about.




A little dip in Lake Zurich. One time I came out of this lake with a leech on me. A guy got it to drop off by burning it with the tip of his cigarette. It was fun to go to this lake to swim, fish, and picnic.




My sister Ann. That is Burns and me in the background. My sister got married and worked and put her husband through medical school. When he became a doctor he left her. She worked again and put her second husband through school. He earned his PhD in Agricultural Engineering and he taught at the University of Tennessee. He is probably retired now. Ann did not want to stay in touch.




My half sister Martha. Like Ann, she too does not like to keep in touch. I tried Mary is still trying.




My dad on the second bike he bought Jimmy. My dad never bought me a bike, or a peddle car, but he did buy me a Radio Flyer wagon so I could deliver my morning newspapers. Jimmy was the baby and he got special attention. He didn't ask for it. He just was given more attention. The family had a Christmas tree and right beside it was a small decorated tree just for Jimbo. When my mother made a pumpkin pie, she made a small pumpkin pie just for Jimbo. In spite of this, Mary and I loved Jimmy and we didn't begrudge his little "extras." Seeing the wash on the clothes line brings back memories. My mother had a Speed Queen washing machine; when the machine was on, it sounded a lot like a Xerox machine. My mother told me stories about how women used to get their hair caught in the wringer and they didn't have a safety release. Ouch!