I Long For The Old Daze..

Hello Everybody!

Been a while since I posted to my blog, but I am working hard to overcome that problem, like many others, these days.

For some reason, I am feeling somewhat sad and melancholy, today.

My thoughts have been on the past, mostly. My formative years in the Boys Home in particular.

Growing Up in Foster Homes was rough in those days, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel when I arrived at Lawrence Hall, Home for Boys. The year was 1965 and I was being delivered there because I was an angry youth (about 13 years old).

It was my first time living in such a big building. There were three floors and the basement, and this wasn't just a place to sleep, it was a place of adventure and fun. Out back there was a huge yard (5 acres, I think) and a large pool to splash in during the summer.

That great old building is gone now, and along with it the wonderful people who I used to look up to. Ms. Tansy Johnson, who I had I slight crush on, Mr. Davis, the Boxer, who always managed to control us by out-boxing us all (Boxing was the thing back then); Mr. Little, a huge gorilla-like man who used to wake up everybody by snatching one foot and half-dragging us out of bed. There were others , but these I remember the most. I miss them.

Everyday, we'd run downstairs to the Cafeteria and joke with each other as we ate. I remember they used to feed us well.

The neighborhood was on the mid- north side of Chicago, which was in the throes of desegregation at the time, and going to school was full of it's own challenges. I was always made to be aware of my color by the kids and some of the adults in the area, but it didn't seem to impact me a great deal.

I had two rooms during my stay there, one one the front of the building and the other at the back. I remember watching with puzzlement as the old folks from around the neighborhood would dig up the weeds in the backyard for what was called “Poke Salad”.

In the front was an awesome building that is still there, part of the Water Reclamation works. There was something mystical and serene about that building. Clean and Mysterious. Next to it was the Chicago River.

When they torn down the grand old building, a part of my heart was damaged forever. I guess I have been making up for it's lost by living in this Nursing Home, which is similar, in many ways, to Lawrence Hall.