She saved me!
I'm back. Thank you's to all who cared and prayed!
Watch for a new entry coming soon.

Summer Camp
Now Playing: A Dream Come True
You can live without it, but if you miss Summer Camp you've missed a lot. It started out in the Fall when it was announced that next year we'll be old enough and experienced enough to go to Camp for two weeks. The cost would be $80.00 all meals included. No this isn't this year 2005; it's 1963.

In order to go we would all have to save money/earn money. One way was by selling raffle tickets for a Thanksgiving turkey. Ten cents a ticket, twelve on one page for $1.00. We got to keep half in our Camp Bank.
I made over $40.00 and had just $40.00 to go, I thought. The holidays came and went. We were supposed to go to camp the last two weeks in June. I made more money running errands and even tried to get a job, to no avail. No one wanted to hire a 12 year old. I had about $60.00 and things weren't looking too good.

I come from a family of 4 boys and a girl. My folks had just bought the house we were living in and were struggling. Both parents worked to make ends meet. There wouldn't be much money coming from home and I was worried I'd never see camp. They could hardly afford to buy us shoes. As I recall; I had walked around much of the Spring with a flip flop. Oh, not the sandal, but shoes that had the sole come loose so that when I walked the whole sole would flop when I walked. I would get it glued at the local shoemaker's store, but it never held.

This is probably the first time I came to appreciate the generosity of my neighbors. Our leader of summer camp knew that several kids wouldn't be able to come up with the money so he went out and recruited "Sponsors."
My sponsor actually paid for my whole summer camp and I had the money I earned/saved to spend. How great is that! My sponsor was the VFW Post from Portage Park-Chicago who also had a ladies' auxiliary. About monthly; at our meetings the ladies would always have a sweet table filled with cookies and brownies, FOR FREE! I always managed to take one or two home to Mom who would always save it and take it to work to eat at lunch.

The big day arrived. Downtown we went, a huge duffel bag in tow filled with clean underwear and tee shirts inscribed with my last name in indelible India Ink. There it was; Union Station where upon arriving encountered a throng of over 500 boys all going to the same camp. The train ride itself was an experience; as for me it was my first time ever on a train. It had drinking fountains and paper cups at either end of the car and even a bathroom.
I learned how to "pop" a paper cup by turning it over on the floor and stomping it with my heel. On the train we would sing "camp" songs and soon also learned there were other songs besides "Row Row Your Boat" and "100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall"

Our duffels were sorted by camp, I suppose there were 5 camps altogether; two at one lake and three on another. We always went to Camp West and as I soon found out our arch rivals were across the lake at Camp Stuart. Plans were made on the train, alliances formed and little did we realize; new friends, true friends that will never be forgotten.

Arriving at the area of the Camp we were lead over dunes and around pine trees; thru a marshy clay swamp about 2-3 miles from the train to Camp West! Our site was up on a hill. Our tents were already there; all set-up and even had a wooden floor. A truck brought our duffels which we didn't bother to unpack. Dinner was in half an hour at the mess hall. Just enough time to take a leak. Well some of us did. The toilets or Kybos as they were called were of the outdoor type and reeked. There were those who elected to "hold it."

We would wait outside the mess hall for the bell and then go inside to find our assigned places. We would sit in the same place almost everyday. We had 10 people to a table, two leaders at either end with 4 kids on either side. One "volunteer" would serve the food (bring it family style to the table). Two "volunteers" would do the cleanup including washing dishes, table and floor.

Dry and thirsty the first thing on the table was 'bug juice' "Hey, I'm not drinking that! What is it anyway?" These were the moans and groans all around the table. It turns out it's just Kool-Aid and let me tell you bug juice or not, it was ice cold and gooood! I don't know how the staff ever did it. Three meals a day, breakfast, lunch and dinner on time and so good, I mean; very good. It wasn't just because we were hungry. I never saw any food wasted.

After dinner it was announced that the Camp Store would be open for one hour. We decided it was time to stock up on pop and candy. Well, it seems like a good idea at the time. The pop went warm inside of an hour and the candy melted in your pocket. Stocking up really wasn't such a good idea. The store also sold craft materials that we could buy and have our leader show us how to make things like a lanyard that could hold a whistle by simply braiding. Since I didn't have a whistle I made an "Indian Bracelet." This looked much like the friendship bracelets of today only much more colorful. The store had everything, binoculars, knifes, shoelaces, the Camp Patch, and they paid a deposit on empty bottles of pop. We spent a lot of time collecting bottles and chasing frogs. This all stopped abruptly when one day while looking for bottles and frogs we came across a huge hissing black snake that scared the hell out of us. We were assured by our leader that the snake was harmless, a black racer, but they never hiss. Hey, did you hear me, this snake hissed! So we knew it wasn't a black racer and we
weren't about to find out what it was either.

Back at camp we learned how to clean the Kybo by pumping up, carrying and pouring two buckets of water down each hole and one or two on the floor while sweeping away the mud and sand. This had to be done each morning and evening by volunteers. Oh, yes, if no one volunteered, as was usually the case the leader would volunteer you. We soon found out that it was better to work with your close friends on these tasks than acquaintances who had formed alliances not including you. Otherwise, you would end up doing the whole job by yourself with them sitting around watching and if you protested you could end up with a red belly. Now a red belly is when you get held down by one or more kids while another starts to slap your tummy while wetting it with water or spit. After a few slaps you had a pink belly; with a red belly soon to follow. I always thought this a little sadistic; even then it just didn't seem right.

As night drew close we were ready to go to the huge welcoming campfire. The fire itself was humongous; reaching taller than most of the trees, but far enough away as not to cause a problem. You wouldn't roast marshmallows in this fire. If you got too close it would singe your eyebrows. Four huge logs at the base with four more on top and so on. The inside square filled with timber. Sparks flying. First up; authentic Indian Dancers in full costume and make-up. You think I wasn't scared? Next and even though there must have been 300 kids, We each would give our names and if we weren't scared to death of being singled out, tell a little more about ourselves. This being done we would learn camp songs. I guess my favorite is "She Waded in the Water" with "I See A Bear" a close second. "I See A Bear" was good because it had action. You would form a line of say eight or nine and the first person would say "I See A Bear" the second would say, "Where?" The first would say "Over There!" and point to the left or right. This would be repeated until each person had their left and right arms pointing in both directions, that is, until last person in line. After saying the last "Over There" by the person, now in a sitting position; would tilt over and knock over the entire line (who were already pretty tired and off balance).

"She Waded in the Water," was a teaser. Remember the age here is between 11-15 year old boys. It went
"She waded in the water til she got her toes all wet. (repeat) (repeat again)
"But she didn't get her (clap, clap) wet yet."

"She waded in the water and she got her toes all wet."
"She waded in the water and she got her ankles wet." (repeat)
"But she didn't get her (clap, clap) wet yet."

This goes on up the legs until, "She waded in the water and she finally got it wet." (repeat much slower)
Yes, she waded in the water and she finally got her bathing suit wet, YET!

Now if any of this sounds familiar, YOU went to camp. If it doesn't, YOU SHOULD HAVE! So how about
becoming a sponsor and send a kid to camp. There are many ways and places on the internet. Just do a simple search "send a kid to camp" and enter your area like Illinois to narrow it down. You will make some child's dream come true!

The Big Blue Marble-Playing For Keeps-Earth Day April 22, 2005
Since 1970 we've been celebrating Earth Day. For those of you who may not know exactly what Earth Day is all about, in short, I offer it deals with environmental issues...all over this Big Blue Marble.

http://www.nasa.gov/audience/forkids/home/F_Big_Blue_Marble_Storybook_Text.html

One day seems hardly enough to deal with all of these problems and of course it's not a one-day happening.

It's happening everyday in every country, county, city, town, neighborhood and street, avenue, parkway, lane and place. Everyday. The air we breathe. The water we drink. The very ground we live, work and play on. The key to understanding the problems and solutions is education. Education that gives back but is now in danger.

As a youngster in grammar school my friends and I would eagerly wait for spring having collected cat's eyes, clearies and even a dreaded "boulder"or two. I had saved my pennies and bought a new/used leather bag that fit neatly in my Levi's pocket at the corner candy store. I hated my new Levi's they were stiff and I had to roll up the cuffs. It took several washings for them to shrink to the correct pant length. School was over and we would meet at Jimmy's house. It was new and he had no grass. Just bare earth. Ideal for playing marbles.

We played two types of games. Ring and Pot. Ring was simply a large circle, maybe five feet or more in diameter, drawn in the dirt. Each would put two or three marbles at risk in the center each game. The first to start would shoot at another's marble and try to knock it out of the ring. Once someone hit a marble out of the ring it was theirs to keep.

Younger kids played for fun. Older kids always played for keeps. One turn each until all marbles were gone. Simple enough but there were always power players. These guys could shoot and hit a marble out of the ring in one shot. If you were lucky you had a "mib" which was actually a ball bearing. Metal and much heavier than the usual glass marbles. These mibs were killers. Since they were heavier they could, even if shot with a weak thumb, crash into a glass marble and knock it out of the ring with ease.

We played before and after school and even developed calluses on our fingers and thumbs. The game of pot was a hole dug in the ground about 4-5 inches deep. A line was drawn about 5 feet from the hole and the players lagged their shooters from the line to see who could get closest to the hole. The closest would shoot until they missed trying to knock someone into the pot. Once in the pot the marble was theirs to keep. A good thing to remember here is the "boulder". This was an oversize marble or mib, maybe ten times the size of a regular marble. It could be lagged and it wouldn't roll. You could really get close to the hole without going in. Once lagged you could legally switch to your shooter and clear the ground around the hole.

At the time we didn't know the value of the Big Blue Marble, or frankly even care. We took it for granted. The air, wind, rain, snow. The dirt on our knees; our hands and our face. The cold water from the drinking fountain. The trees, birds, flowers and bugs were all just there. Weren't they always?

Once Jimmy's parents planted grass we had to look for another spot. I'll tell you it wasn't easy finding a place where six to ten boys could play in the dirt making the noise that goes with a game of marbles. We ended up in the playground. We made new friends and
won and lost plenty of snake eyes, glassies and boulders.

This is the problem with the Big Blue Marble. There is no other place to go. If we don't take care of it. If we don't educate our children to appreciate it. ..their children won't have a place to play. Visit the Earth Day website: http//www.earthday.net/
Find out what you can do. Remember, we're playing for keeps.

Nostalgia!
Now Playing: A Trip Down Memory Lane. Sights and Sounds.
When I was growing up on the Northside of Chicago as a kid I remember many sights and sounds that have long since disappeared. Let me share a few with you and maybe you'll recall these sights and sounds.

There was the horse-drawn junk man. Now you must realize this is not his hay-day (pardon the pun) but actually the last couple of years that any one would hear, "Old Rags and Iron" or as we kids would say "Old Rags Alion." He was usually along driving his horse up and down the alleys looking for just about anything thrown away to pickup and put on his big dirty wagon. You could always tell he'd been by because of the road apples left behind.

There was also another horse-drawn wagon. The fruit and vegetable man. Now I don't know what happened to the junk man, but the fruit and veggie man became motorized and soon he was doing his route in a truck with the same old metal scale for weighing things, but much cleaner than that old wagon loaded with baskets of vegetables and apples, oranges in wooden crates. It was quite a surprise to see the change. I mean one week he had a horse-drawn wagon and the next a big truck! Progress!? It was this same man who a couple of years later actually opened his own "supermarket." This was only a few blocks away.

We would wait patiently for the veggie man because he would give us the empty orange crates. Believe me this was better than finding an empty quart pop bottle (worth 5 cents deposit at any store. The smaller 8 ounce pop bottles were only worth 2 cents). With this empty orange crate we used our imagination and created numerous playthings. The one that really stands out is the "Roller Skate Box." Let me try to describe this work of art.

You take the orange crate made of wood and found an old 2 x 4 piece of lumber and some nails. The 2 x 4 would be nailed to the box at the bottom to form kind of a scooter. Then you would take one old roller skate and if you remember these were operated with a roller skate key to fit your shoe and the skate would come apart into two sections. One section nailed at the front of the 2 x 4 and the other at the rear. Now this is more than just a scooter because you had the big orange crate that could carry numerous things (like old pop bottles). To the top of the crate we would attach "handles" which would give us some steering ability. If you had it, you could paint your new vehicle, but for the most part (except for "block parades") we were ready to go and go we did.

People could hear us coming down the sidewalk over a block away. Lucky thing we lived on side streets so we were able to ride on the "tar" which would be much quieter! But, of course, not quiet enough. I still to this day don't know how…after building and riding all day and coming home to dinner; listening to our favorite radio shows; going to sleep and waking up the next day our "scooters" would be gone! Lucky thing roller skates came in pairs and orange crates were plentiful!! (I guess as kids "we just didn't get it!) That was the Christmas I got my first bicycle. While true it was a girl's and had a "buddy" seat over the wide rear tire, it was still MY BIKE.

That didn't mean I knew how to ride it! Too bad Christmas comes in the Winter. I had to wait almost two months before learning how to ride. Just about everyone where I lived learned the same way, unless you were a sissy. The sissy's had training wheels and were a couple of years younger. WE learned the hard way.
You go into the back alley and lean up against a fence or telephone pole and push-off! Chances are you would go a couple of feet on two wheels and then down you go on your knees and rip go the Levi's. If you had to learn to ride in the summer as some of my friends you would end up with bloody knees. After a couple of days you were on your own and riding all over the neighborhood; exploring places we've never seen before. The bicycle, what a great invention; next to my first car definitely the greatest!

Hey, does anyone out there remember?

She's One in a Million!
Now Playing: ...and my valentine!




It's Saturday and we are on our way to the Cornicopious Center which is a place for seniors and they are holding a meeting about winterizing your home or apartment, however that is not why we are going. We are taking the bus to get a bus pass (reduced fare for eligible seniors). The sun is shining and it is a beautiful day. The streets are crowded with people shopping and going to and fro perhaps getting ready for tomorrow's Super Bowl. We must transfer to another bus so we get off and wait for the traffic light to change. While waiting I feel something on the bottom of my topcoat. There it is again. What the? I look around and it's an elderly blind man tapping my coat with his cane.

I had seen him on our bus. We got off the back, while I guess he got off from the front. Anyway before I could open my mouth my wife is asking him where he wants to go! He says to the bank across the street (the opposite direction he is facing and the opposite direction we are going). My wife asks me to wait while she walks him across the busy intersection (it's six corners; Milwaukee Avenue, Irving Park Road and Cicero Avenue).

She walks him and I wait lighting up a cigarette. A disheveled man with dark hair, beard and dirty clothes asks me for a cigarette. I give him two and a lite. It takes some time for the traffic lights to change and my wife finally returns. But before she did I kept wondering to myself about this woman. How many other people would have taken this blind man's hand? There were many people around but it was only she that reached out. Now I ask you, isn't she one in a million!