[continued: Chicago]
We ventured outside of our neighborhood only to go to school at St. Rita’s. It seemed so far away back then as I would trudge in the snow, bundled in leggings, galoshes, heavy coat, mittens and hat. St. Rita’s not only offered warmth on those bitterly cold days but structure and a sense of security. The nuns wore habits and were respected. Religion, tradition and order were integral parts of learning. A sense of closeness and family bound us together. I clearly recall the day when Father Sweeney ventured from the rectory to the playground to visit with the children. He asked my name. I, being terribly shy at the time, blurted in rapid fire “Carol Jean O’Malley”. He in turn said “Barrel of Gin O’Reilly?” Despite my protestations, I was forever known to Father Sweeney as “Barrel of Gin O’Reilly.”
On Saturdays, my Mother would take me on the streetcar to Loomis Avenue where we would transfer to the “El” and spend our day at Marshall Field’s and Carson’s. She would reward me with a bismark from Field’s bakery. As with Pavlov’s dog, I soon caught on to the reward part of the trip and willingly accompanied her on those tedious shopping expeditions.
My return to the neighborhood after a 46 year absence, found many changes. The once Irish, Polish, Jewish stronghold was now home to the new immigrants with just as many hopes for their future as our parents had for us. While the ethnicity has changed, the buildings are still strong and sturdy and will welcome each new group of immigrants to their doors for many years to come. The shrubbery that defined the borders of properties when I was growing up, has been replaced on some dwellings with security fences. Although the main shopping area on 63rd Street has become somewhat shabby, people still push their children in strollers, still support their local stores and still smile to their neighbors. The feeling exists that I once knew. It is a feeling of community.
By: Caroll O'Malley-March
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