Halloween

Halloween for the Tolleys was a well-coordinated effort to amass as much candy as possible before sunset. General Patton couldn't have had a better plan.

We would rush home from school, change into our costumes, and hit the streets. We would start at the Wallow's house to our left, and keep going, till we hit the busy street (Pulaski). Then we would cross the street and continue collecting loot until we reached the coal yard at the end of our block before heading home.

To change costumes and do it again. Same route, different costumes. You would think it was hard to fool the neighbors on the second time around, but we were in Chicago and it was always cold on Halloween. The were no princess costumes, unless you were a Russian princess. All of our costumes involved masks and gloves, except for the classic "bag of leaves" costume, in which you stepped into a trash bag, filled the bag with leaves from the yard, and tied it at your neck. Taadaa! Bag of leaves. All the classics, like "bum" and "ghost" could easily be adapted to Chicago's harsh climate while offering a legitimate disguise for further candy pillaging.

So it was pretty easy to repeat the candy trek another time. Or more. By the end of the evening, we had pillowcases filled with the stuff. Everything from gumballs to little mini  Baby Ruth's. 

You could tell a lot about your neighbors by the candy that they gave out on Halloween.  There were the old people, who gave out coffee flavored lozenges and Werthers hard candies. Sometimes you had a bank employee who lived nearby. They gave out bank candy, those little mints that you got when you made a deposit at the bank. And nobody could figure out the people who gave out peanut butter flavored MaryJanes. Sometimes you got a penny or two from people who had run out of candy. But the prize neighbor was the one with chocolate, and you never knew who that would be.

But all of it had to go through the final judge, Mom. Your Grandma would have to inspect every bag for razor blades or nails stuck in the candy by Mister Stranger Danger. You would think that we would have noticed a nail hiding in a Snickers bar, but Grandma had to make sure. After she was done, she would end up keeping a few pieces of candy for herself, just to keep us safe. Was it a coincidence that they were always her favorites?

Then, it was time to negotiate. All of us sat around with our bags of candy, trading skittles for lemon heads, and jawbreakers for charms pops. Candy became currency in the land of sugar high, and chocolate was the goal. Whether it was a Hershey's bar or a KitKat didn't matter. It was chocolate, and chocolate was power. When you had chocolate, you could pay brothers and sisters to do your chores. 

Halloween will always be a happy memory in my mind. It was a time for creativity and footwork shared with my brothers and sister and I wouldn't change it for the world.

Card Club

My parents didn't have much of a social life when we kids were young. Most of their going out involved shopping or going to some school related event like parent teacher meetings or band concerts. 

But what they did have was card club. 

4 neighbor couples who got together once a month to play cards and do adult things without kids. 

Every month, the game would rotate to a different house. Being kids, we didn't understand this. All we knew is that at random times we would be told that  "card club" was coming. For the longest time I thought card club was a person, like Grandma. But it was worse....card club was company. And there were certain things expected of you when company came over. Like being quiet and not doing anything that would make your mom want to strangle you.

For kids, card club was like a holiday without the presents. Or kids. And we could not understand that at all. The house was clean and there were all kinds of fancy treats in the kitchen that we weren't allowed to touch. To this day, I have a hard time eating bavarian cream puffs because I can still hear my mom yelling, "don't touch that! It's for card club."

So the neighbors would all come over, and they would be wearing nice clothes. Not church clothes, but nicer than the usual yard work and housecleaning clothes that we were used to seeing them in. They were glamorous. 

And the house would be beautiful! Children threatened with being sent to Grandmas to live would clean or hide any offending messes. Piles of toys by the couch were replaced with bowls of chips and dip. Such variety! Brand name ruffled chips and tortillas replaced our usual generic snacks on card club night. There would be no day old cheese curls in a bowl with a plastic soldier on the bottom for these people. And French onion dip! Imagine that! This was party food that we as kids could only imagine.

We didn't know what actually happened at card club, because it was only for adults, so after we said our hellos, we were sent to bed. Of course, I would love to say that our exiting the scene was something like the Von Trapp children going to bed in The Sound of Music, but it wasn't. They had a well-choreographed song and dance, while we were more like Grandma trying to give 4 cats a bath in a locked shower stall. We all tried to be charming/entertaining/useful in order to stay up late. If this didn't work, you could always try showing off your report cards/art work/bruises or anything else that might engage your audience. We were all experts at thinking of things to ask for 

or "remembering" things we had to tell our parents before we went to sleep.

On a side note, Aunt Carrie once had an epic battle with Grandma to stay up late. After she ran through the usual  I need a glass of water/I'm too hot/I'm too cold excuses, she came up with being worried that she had extra skin on the top of her knuckles. Even with that disfigurement, she still had to go to bed. Grandma was tough.

After being shuffled off to bed for the one millionth final time that evening, card club was over. Unless your bedroom was next to the kitchen where cards were being played. Then you stayed up most of the night with your ear to the door, hoping you might hear something interesting, like a dirty joke. I remember hearing jokes one night (you could always tell when the adults we going to tell dirty jokes, because the talk would get really quiet, and Grandpa would always check the bedroom to see if we were asleep.) all I remember was the punch line, something about,"Wait! I've got a set of luggage too!" To this day, I still haven't figured out the rest of the joke.

The next morning is when card club began for us kids. Thats when we would wake to find bowls of fancy potato chip crumbs and stale pretzels left over from the night before. This was an opportunity to try those fancy snacks with the leftover French onion dip, or maybe even salsa, if you were lucky. As a kid, one could also make a killing on the number of pennies that could be found on the floor near the card table.

Card club stopped, but the four neighbor couples remained friends. They have since gone on many vacations together, probably still trying to have some adult time without the kids. I hope everyone has fond memories of those days. I also hope that someday someone remembers the rest of that joke.

The Keychain

One year, Aunt Chris got a fancy keychain as part of her Christmas present from a dentist she worked for. It was a lovely silver keychain, silver serpentine shaped like a teardrop. Aunt Chris must have had plenty of key chains at that time, because it became the grand prize in a Santa bingo tournament, which I won. 

The keychain was discovered in Grandmas couch a few days after the party. Now, I insist that it fell out of my pocket that night, and I just didn't notice it missing. Others insist that I put it in the couch cushions on purpose. Either way, the keychain was discovered and it was returned to me. Thus began the saga of the keychain. 

Uncle John, Uncle Jim and I returned the keychain to each other many times over the next couple of years. One time, the keychain ended up in Uncle Jim's suitcase on his honeymoon. Another time, Grandpa had it arranged so that Uncle John got the keys to this new house on the keychain. 

No one knows where the keychain is now. I believe that someone hid it so well that it was never found again. But who knows? It might turn up again....maybe in your stuff?

Camping. Tolley style.

Oh, where to begin? Everything about our camping trips was like a Three Stooges comedy bit, and you know how much Tolleys love comedy. Every trip was different, but every trip shared some similarities...

Like getting lost. We always had a map, but we always missed the exit we needed. That's where the phrase, "see America unintentionally" came from. Grandpa wasn't afraid to ask for directions, but sometimes it took awhile to find somebody to help us.

And then the dog would yak. We could drive for miles, but as soon as we slowed down and made that last turn into the campground the dog would lose it. All over the back of the station wagon.

Our camping spot was always located in the lowest elevation of the campground. What does that mean? it means that if it should rain, we would be sleeping in a puddle of water. How do I know this? Because it always rained when the Tolleys went camping. The rain didn't stop us from having fun, though. Thanks to Grandmas craftiness, she would make us raincoats out of trash bags and send us outside to play.

One of these times it was raining so bad that the dog dish floated by the camper. Grandma decided that it was too much to play outside, so we came inside the camper to wait out the storm. All six of us. And Uncle Jim's joke book. In a popup camper.

Now, Uncle Jim was pretty little. In fact, I believe that this was the first trip that he was allowed to pack his suitcase. And what he packed for 3 days of outdoors fun was three socks and his "1,001 Jokes" book. That was all. 

So, imagine all of us wet kids and dog hyped up on kool aid and zinging off the walls of the tiny camper while Grandma and Grandpa tried to catch up on some reading. And out comes the joke book.

Now this book contained 1,001 of the worlds worst jokes and Uncle Jim proceeded to tell them all. The one that I remember best is:

Man:  Doctor! I bit my ear!

Doctor:  How did you do that?

Man: I stood on a chair.

And it continued to rain. At some point, Uncle Jim ran out of jokes and started making them up. Then changing the answers when we guessed them Pretty soon it went something like this:

Jim: What did one man say to another?

John: Hi (a previously correct answer)

Jim: No

Laura: Bye (another previously correct   

                        answer)

Jim: No

Carrie: What time is it? (a good guess)

Jim: No

Everybody shouting: WHAT DID ONE 

          MAN SAY TO ANOTHER?

Jim: Nothing. They didn't know each other.

At this point, Grandma and Grandpa left our increasingly way too small camper and went to read in the car. I don't believe that they came back till the rain and our sugar buzzes stopped. 3 days later.

John and Betty's Shoes

Everyone knows how good Grandma Tolley is at finding deals and saving money. Her skills are legendary, and that's where the term"to pull a Gloria" comes from. When you save even more on a great deal in the first place, that's pulling a Gloria.

One of Grandma's bargain places was a place called John and Betty's. I don't know if it was really even a store...it was in someone's garage. And the garage was full, from top to bottom, with ever-changing stuff. Extra merchandise and big items like refrigerators were stored in other nearby garages. I don't know where all the merchandise came from, maybe it "fell of the back of a truck," but I don't know. And you never knew what would be there...boxes of socks, mattresses, televisions, whatever. It was the beginning of Big Lots. 

That garage was always crowded. There were always some really old people yelling at younger kids to get something from another garage for somebody. For example, your mom wants to buy a lamp. She doesn't see what she likes, so she tells an old lady there what she's looking for. The old lady yells, "Johnny! We got any more of those gold lamps down the street?" and some 30 year old guy named Johnny would go running down the alley to see what they had left. Sometimes people would have to go with Johnny (I remember everyone being named Johnny) to look at carpet samples or big things in the other garage. I never got to go to the other garage myself, but I always imagined it to be some magical place where you could find everything you ever wanted.

John and Betty's was the ideal challenge for Grandmas shopping skills....find a bargain of all bargains in a Tetris-like maze of stuff. And Grandma was good. Thats how she found my gym shoes.

There was always a pile of old lady or little kids shoes, I think because they wore the same sizes.  Other people bought their shoes at real stores that featured styles other than Italy, 1937. But kids couldn't  complain, and tiny old ladies were lucky to find anything in their size. 

Underneath that pile of old lady shoes was a pair of gym shoes that would change my life. White leather, with red patent leather heels and toes, the sides sported blue stripes with little stars cut out of them. This was 1976, the year of our bicentennial, and styles featuring America were pretty popular. Even so, these shoes were spectacular. Drag queens would have found them flashy, but circus clowns could have worn them, or perhaps the Harlem Globetrotters? And not only were they in my size, but Grandma found two pairs of them! I was so lucky.

I remember my friends teasing me about them. Alot. To make matters worse, My friends parents didn't shop at John and Betty's, so no one else had the same style of shoes. Being a fashion-conscious 7th grader who didn't like being laughed at, I tried to make them a fashion statement. Unfortunately, I think the only stament I was making was, "Hello. I am new to your country. I know nothing of your fashion or customs."

What I really remember is wearing them to a 7th grade basketball game. I played forward for the team, as well as going after any jump balls because I was tall. We were all set up for one of these jump balls when the referee noticed my shoes. He started laughing and delayed the game for a few seconds while he composed himself.

That was it. While I was never really any good at it, my enthusiasm for playing basketball quickly fizzled. I played till the end of the year, but that was the end of my sporting career. And my need for those shoes.

I don't know whatever happened to those shoes. Or John and Betty's, for that matter. Perhaps it's just as well. 

Poo Poo Poo Poo

Did you ever see the movie, "My Big Fat Greek Wedding?" The boyfriend is trying to fit in with his soon to be Greek brothers in law, and they are big jokers. In one scene, the boyfriend asks for some help making a wedding toast in Greek. Instead of telling the family that 'he is happy to be a part of the family,' he ends up telling them that 'he has 3 balls,' thanks to the help of the brothers. It was pretty funny.

Your Uncle Jim, as you well know, has that same sense of humor. Remember that.

One summer vacation from Western Illinois University, your dad lived with us in Chicago so he could get a job. As you know, there aren't a lot of jobs in Jerseyville. 

So your dad comes home from work one day, and runs into Uncle Jim letting the dog out. Uncle Jim says, "Oh hey, can you do me a favor? Peggy ,(the dog), needs to go outside. Because she was a kennel bred dog, the only way she will poop is if somebody walks behind her and says 'poo, poo, poo, poo' whenever she stops and sniffs the ground. Will you do it this time? I would, but I'm late for work."

Your dad says, "okay," and starts following the dog as she wanders around the yard. Uncle Jim is standing in the doorway, watching him say poo, poo, poo, poo every couple of steps, and Peggy the dog is looking kind of confused and embarrassed. That's when I come home.

Uncle Jim is looking out the back door, and I walk up to him to see what's up. I see your dad, talking to the dogs butt, and Peggy, still looking confused. Poo, poo, poo, poo, walk a few steps, repeat. Now I was confused.

"What is he doing?" I ask.

"I don't know," says Uncle Jim. " I just walked in. I've been watching him for a minute or so, and I've never seen anything like this before."

It was quickly determined that this was all a joke. And being Tolleys, we refuse to let any good joke die. To this day, we still laugh about the best brother in law joke ever.

Shiny Coat

One time when you were pretty little, we took a trip to Chicago to see Grandma and Grandpa Tolley. While we were there, you needed to take a bath. Baths at Grandmas house were nice because she always had a variety of soaps, body washes, lotions and other nice stuff. You were big enough to take a bath by yourself, so after making sure that you had everything that you needed, I left you alone to take your bath.

A little bit later, you came out of the bathroom all warm and cuddly, clean, and smelling like a pretty little girl.

"You smell nice, what shampoo did you end up using?" asked Grandma. 

"Oh," you said. "The one with the picture of the dog on it."

Turns out that Grandma had given their dog, Duffy, a bath that afternoon, and she had left the dog shampoo in the bathroom. She didn't say anything, but your hair was very shiny and bouncy. Also, you didn't get any fleas all weekend.

Staying Up Late

Grandpa Tolley worked late when we were little, and most nights we had to be in bed before he got home.  I guess Grandma and Grandpa had decided that all of us being up late would not be the quality time we all wanted, so every night, one of us would get to stay up late to spend some time with Grandpa while everyone else went to bed.  It was so cool to be up alone with the adults, like you were one of them and not one of the jealous others, trying to get to stay up late, too.

I don't know long we did this, but one night in particular stands out for me. It was the night that Grandpa Tolley taught me how to tell time. 

Now, I was pretty little, maybe first grade? Definitely before second grade, because we all got watches for first communion and we could all tell time. On a side note, When Uncle Jim made his first communion, he was chosen to go down the aisle and shake hands with everyone during the sign of peace. He was so proud of his new watch that he pushed back the jacket sleeve on his hand shaking arm so that the handshakers could admire and or perhaps comment on his new watch.

Anyways, on my big night with Grandpa, he took me to his workbench in the basement. I always loved that big black workbench because it had like a million drawers full of all kinds of stuff. With the help of a paper plate and a fastener that came out of that workbench,  Grandpa had made me a clock with arms that moved. I was so impressed that my Dad made this and it wasn't just a drawing. I was convinced that he could build anything, like houses and spaceships and stuff. And it was because he had all kinds of  nails and screws, and he knew where to find them.

Grandpa then showed me how to tell time. It was easy because the arms on the clock moved. He must have done a good job, because I've never had any problems reading a clock since then. 

I don't remember staying up late any other night. What I do remember is my Dad being awesome.

The Biggest and the Best

One time, Grandma Tolley and Uncle Jim were at the zoo. They, as well as a whole bunch of other folks were looking at an exhibit of some of the world's biggest cockroaches. Always the comedian, Uncle Jim took advantage of the situation. In a loud voice, He says, "that's nothing. We've got bigger ones than that at home!" Everyone turned to look at Grandma, because Uncle Jim, who had been standing next to Grandma, was gone.

Dancers in the Family

While it can certainly be said that Tolleys are performers, we have had several dancers in the family. Uncle John danced in several school musicals, but Aunt Carrie actually took dance lessons. She performed onstage at McCormick Place in downtown Chicago. Perhaps if you ask her, she will tap dance to Sinatra's "Love and Marriage," like she did back in the day. I remember thinking that her little pink and white costume was very glamorous. Of course you had a couple of glamorous dancing costumes yourself. I will never forget the day your dance troupe was performing at the grand opening of the new Metrolink station. On our way to catch the train, we ran into a prostitute who told you that she liked your sparkly pants. You can all trace your talents to Grandpa Tolley, the original family dancer. Back when he was a teenager, he danced on TV with a group called the Polka Teens. I'll bet they also had glamorous outfits because this was like an early MTV. I keep hoping someone posts an old movie of the Teens on YouTube. So far, no luck.  It is rumored that Grandma Tolley had something to do with the breakup of The Polka Teens. Teenage bombshell that she was, it seems that she lured Grandpa away from dancing with the Teens. So maybe all the Tolleys have a little bit of dancer in us. That would explain why some of us like sequins so much.

Tolley Wrapping Paper

Every Christmas, the Tolleys gather around a bunch of newspaper-wrapped gifts to celebrate the holiday season. In the past, the presents had numbers on them instead of names, but Grandma would routinely lose the list that matched the present numbers with the kids. As we got older and moved away from home,  grandma started putting our names on the presents. But the tradition of wrapping paper made of newspaper continued. Why did we start using newspaper for wrapping paper? Because Tolley kids couldn’t leave well enough alone. Whenever there was a present under the Christmas tree, each of us would imagine that the present was for us. Someone would eventually lose control and start picking at a corner of the wrapping paper to get a peek at the box beneath it, and pretty soon, all the presents had little corners torn, like everything was wrapped by a dog. So Grandma started using newspaper to wrap presents because it got to be pretty expensive rewrapping  all the torn packages after us kids were through. I’m sure she will tell you that she still uses the newspaper to wrap presents because it’s cheap, but deep down inside, I think that she is remembering us little kids. Then again, maybe I’m wrong. I was never right at guessing the presents, either. I'll  have you know that I never lost the list!!  The first layer of newspaper was sealed with duc tape and the second layer applied to help prevent snooping. Mom

Punkin's Last Stand

Punkin was the world's meanest cat. She hated everybody, and this only got worse as she got older. She was an alley cat who kind of adopted us and slept in a box in our garage. One Chicago winter night, Grandpa came home from work and saw her in the little cold box. Being a big softie, he brought her into the house "because it was so cold," and she stayed forever. This was when we lived at 59th & Lawndale. Punkin later moved with Grandma and Grandpa to the house on Millard Ave. Punkin only liked one person at a time. She was my cat from 2nd grade till I went to college, then she kind of decided that she liked Uncle Jim and became his cat. She kind of knew when you needed a cat and when you needed to be left alone.  As she got older, she started to age. Her eyesight started to go, and I think she had some arthritis because she had a hard time moving around. Her hair got all clumpy and she kinda smelled.  So one day, this mean and ugly cat was relaxing on a kitchen chair at Grandma's house on Millard Ave. when Sid, the young german sheperd saw her there. Now Sid wasn't very bright. Grandpa Tolley brought him home from the police department because Sid couldn't cut it as a police dog. (They say he had bad hips, but I think there might have beeen a little bit more to it than that.)  Sid comes bounding into the room, as was his style. Seeing Punkin on the chair, I guess he figured he would say hello, maybe play a bit. Because Sid's head was at chair level, it was easy for him to poke Punkin with his nose. That was a mistake. Punkin clawed Sid's nose, and in the process, got her claw stuck in his nose. Poor Sid was yelping and backing away, with a spitting cat stuck to his nose.  Punkin picked that moment to die. The spitting stopped and she became a deadweight on the dog's nose. Everything got worked out, and Uncle Jim gave Punkin the grand funeral that she deserved. He buried her in a beer carton at Sundown Meadows, a popular lake for parties.

Oh Christmas Tree

The Tolleys had a ratty looking artificial Christmas tree to symbolize the festivities of the season, and the festivities began with putting up the tree. Now, I have nothing against artificial trees. They don't have that piney smell, but they don't rot, either. Or so you would think. Our tree was ancient. When fully erected and poofed, it never looked like the picture on the box. No matter, the picture on the box was long gone, much like the instructions for putting the tree together. There was a general plan of inserting branches into the center "trunk" of the tree, and that was pretty much it. At one time, each branch had a color painted on its end to help you put the tree together, but over the years, the paint had all flaked off. Every year we would scrutinize the branch ends like we were on an episode of CSI, yet still we had our doubts. You would think that the size of the branches would give us a clue, but our yearly rush to take down the tree and put out Easter eggs had made us squish all the branches together to fit in the decaying box until next year. Everything was a little bendy, but with an "artistic" view of trees and some squinting, our tree was passable as a tree. Now it was time for the ornaments. Remember the scene in Charlie Brown's Christmas where the kids all get together around the skimpy Christmas tree? With the help of holiday magic, their busy little hands transform a sad little tree into a thing of beauty? That never happened for us. Our ornaments consisted mostly of things us kids had made in school, brownies or cub scouts. Lots of faded construction paper, sequins and macaroni. Grandma had a couple of nice ornaments, but over the years they started to look as "well-loved" as the other ornaments. Styrofoam gingerbread had bites taken out of it and glitter was spread to other ornaments, making everything look like it came from a holiday rave. And dangerous. Our ornaments were dangerous. We had metal can lids decorated with ribbon and Christmas card pictures. One cut from one of those and you risked both botulism AND tetanus. That's why adults today secretly make fun of safety scissors and bike helmets. We think kids today are weak. And after all our hard work, Punkin would climb in the tree and we would lose half of any glass ornaments on it when the tree hit the ground.  After we rescued the cat and tied the tree to the wall, we stood back and admired our  tree. Clumps of ornaments where some kid had gotten bored and put them all in one spot competed with the (sometimes) twinkling lights reflecting off of the broken ornaments on the floor.  The tree may not have been beautiful, but the memories are. Hi Kid,   You should includ the story of how we came about that tree in the first place. We had a real tree that was very dry. Your Mother was out last minute shopping on Chridtmas Eve. There was a sale at JCP's so she bought the tree. When she got it home I took the old or real tree down. While you kids and your Mother were decorating the new tree I carried the old tree to the alley and set it on fire. Some of the neighbors asked what the heck I was doing. I told them that you kids had been bad during the year so  Santa was not coming. Love, Dad

The Banana Monster

Our house on 59th Place had an old, scary, stinky basement. We never played there  or used the space for much of anything, although it would have been a good place to play medieval prison.  When Grandpa and Grandma decided to remodel the basement, they had to have the floor broken and the stairs taken out in order to pour a new concrete floor. Now the basement really looked scary, with a dirt floor, a bare lightbulb for light and a ladder leading up to the kitchen.  This is where the Banana monster lived. And of course, Uncle John was involved. Shortly after the basement was torn up, Uncle John started telling the story of the Banana monster. It seems that the monster lived in the basement and waited for children who went downstairs to get the laundry. We were terrorized for weeks, because it was some time before all of Grandpa's police friends could get the day off to help pour the new floor. We shuddered every time Grandma asked someone to help get the laundry, because it was so dark down there and Uncle John had told us such horrible things about the Banana monster. But one day we decided that we had had enough of the Banana monster. We worked it out so that Grandma insisted Uncle John go in the basement. I was already down there, wearing a yellow blanket and waiting. I think that Uncle John must have believed his own stories because when he saw me coming towards him and looking like a big yellow banana ghost, his eyes got really big and he let out a big scream. And that was the end of the Banana monster. Uncle John never talked about it again.

Swing Sets and Stuff

Growing up on the south side of Chicago, we didn't have much of a backyard, but we used what we had. At various times, we had a pool, lawn furniture, and my all time favorite, the swing set.  The swing set was standard issue swing set material; a monkey bar ladder type thing with 2 swings, a set of rings and a trapeze. It took up most of the yard and left a big dirt spot where us kids had trampled all the grass.  Now the swing set was standard issue, but our imaginations were much bigger than that. With a little help, It became a circus tent, a pirate ship or a rocket. We were quite fond of tying sheets or ropes to the swing set in order to make boat sails or make a ladder to escape from jail. We all got fake names when we played on the swing set. I was Laura Lynn the Fin Toadstool, Uncle John was Jonathan Livingston Postage Stamp (after the book Jonathan Livingston Seagull, very popular at the time), Aunt Carrie was Caroline Mundeline Clothesline, Uncle Jim was Slim Jim Bowling Pin, and my best friend next door neighbor, Kathy Wallow, was Kathryn Von WallowWhopper.To this day, Kathy and I still use these names. Much like other Tolley adventures, the end of the swing set came about in a dramatic manner. We had discovered that if you hung a painter's drop cloth between the monkey bars, you could swing people. Far. Like into the next yard. Of course the day came when  a neighbor was hurled across the yard, landing face first on the sidewalk. A couple of stitches later and we were closed for business. Something about homeowners insurance.  We moved on to other dangerous games, but thinking about the swingset always makes me smile.

Tutus In Heaven

One morning when you were very little, you asked me how we would find each other in heaven.  "Oh, Honey, of course we will find each other. Mommies can always find their babies, wherever they are." "I don't know," you said. "Wouldn't it be a lot easier if you just wore a tutu?"

Your Mom Has a Vision

Your Aunt Carrie and I went to Maria High School on the south side of Chicago. It was about 2 miles from home, but on the city bus line. So, like every other Catholic school kid, we rode the city bus to school. Sometimes the bus got really crowded, and the driver would just pass the stop you were waiting at because there was no freaking way he was fitting another teenager with a trombone case onto his bus. It was especially bad in the winter when you had to wait for the bus in your school uniform because we weren't allowed to wear those unladylike blue jeans to school. So, there you would be, freezing on the corner, and the bus would just whiz by, filled with lucky kids who had gotten on a stop or two earlier. Those kids would look at you, like they were better than you. And they were. They were on a warm but crowded bus on their way to school, and you were stuck in the cold waiting for the next one. You could just imagine them saying, "Sucks to be yooooouuuuuuuu...." as they rode past. Great way to start the day. It was only a matter of time before I became a member of The Missed Bus Club. After missing mine one morning I joined the ranks of other tardees and made my way to the office for some sort of special dispensation that allowed us admission to our classes.  Now, I had been in many first periods where people walked in late. It was almost always the bus and everyone knew it. So, the stragglers would go to their class, hand their special admission slip to the teacher, and sit down. There wouldn't even be a break in the lecture.  On this day, I quietly entered my sociology class like all the other miscreants I had seen do in the past. But something was different. Instead of just putting out her hand for my golden ticket, my teacher stopped class and asked me why I was late. What? Why was she doing this to me? Everyone knew it was the bus...was I supposed to be an example? I figured she must have thought there was a fantastic reason for me to be late. So I gave her one. "Well," I started," are you familiar with the corner of 59th and California?" At this point, the look on here face told me that she had expected me give the standard bus answer, but I was too invested in my story to let it go. "The corner of 59th and California is very busy this time of the morning. Lo and behold, right in the middle of the intersection appeared a vision of St. Casimir. He was surrounded by lights and glorious music...well, all traffic was screwed up from that point on, and my bus just got here." My teacher just sat there. She took my pass and didn't say a word. Class went on as usual. I thought that this was the end of the matter until I was getting my books out of my locker later in the day. An adulty  voice behind me said,  "I hear you saw a vision today."  Out of the corner of my eye I saw the familiar folds of a nun's habit and I knew I was busted.  See, the nuns who policed our education were the Sisters of St. Casimir, a religious order from Lithuania. I cannot remember the name of their founding city, and it has probably changed names several times since then. This place was a war torn area that turned out tough little nuns (who, in my mind, were no strangers to the tortures of war.) Mother Maria Kaupas was the founder of the order. In fact, my senior year, we presented a musical adaptation of her life for the stage, entitled: To Kaze, With Love." It was kind of like Fiddler on the Roof, with all the harshness of life, but without the chance of love. And St. Casimir made everything better. Being the president of the drama club that year, I was hoping for West Side Story, but I was voted down by anyone of any importance. We took our nuns seriously. The fact that I still remember all this shows how important it was to the nuns. So, in a slight panic, I turned around to see my inquisitor. It was Sister Kathleen, the senior art teacher. I didn't even have her for classes, but it seems that she knew me. She was young and smiling broadly. Turns out that the story of my vision had made it to the teachers lunch table. I started describing the lights and glorious music, but she just smiled and patted me on the arm.  Once again, the miracle of St. Casimir came through for a person in need.

Popsicles

Uncle John woke up hungry one night, and decided to get a popsicle. Being a nice kid, he decided to bring everyone else a popsicle too. Seeing as everyone else was still sleeping, Uncle John left the popsicles on their pillows, next to their heads.  In the morning, everyone woke up with popsicle sticks stuck to their hair and sticky pillows. Nobody knew what happened until Uncle John woke up.

Goldfish

St. Nick’s school carnival was like every other parish carnival on the South Side of Chicago. You had a couple of rides on the corner of the parking lot, a beer garden, home made cakes, and carnival games.  And, like all school carnivals, you could win a fish if you threw a ping pong ball into the little guy’s bowl. The fish never lived too long, partly because of the brain damage from being hit on the head with a ping pong ball, and partly because kids either forget to feed them or they dump a whole box of food into the little bowl.

One year Uncle Jim won a fish. He was very proud of his fish, and vowed to take good care of it. instead of keeping it in the little bowl from the carnival, the fish was now moved to a 5 gallon glass water jug that sat pretty much in the middle of the kitchen.  You could barely see the tiny fish in this big jug, but Uncle Jim paid very close attention to it. Now, Tolleys being Tolleys can’t leave any open opportunity for a joke.  I really can’t remember who actually did it, (probably either me or Uncle John) but somebody bought another goldfish from the store and put it in the jug while Uncle Jim was at school. Imagine his surprise when he came home to find that his fish had a baby! Well! We didn’t even know she was a girl. This was all quite amazing. I think a couple more babies appeared before someone rolled a bowling ball into the glass jug, which broke into a million pieces and soaked the carpeting in the kitchen for days.

Carrots

Aunt Carrie was known to hate carrots. Alot. She would sit there, push them around her plate and pretty much try every way she could think of th leave the table. Grandma always told her that she couldn't leave the table and play outside until the carrots were gone, but that didn't seem to make things easier for Aunt Carrie. One day, she had had enough. Being the last one sitting at the table, it was quite dramatic when Aunt Carrie put all her carrots on her fork and said, "Goodbye outside, hello bedroom." And she flung the carrots off her fork directly at grandma.  Needless to say, Aunt Carrie did not go outside that night. I'm sure the carrot battle continued after this, but this was the biggest and best one.