I started this blog after my youngest encouraged me to do so. It is evolving into a series of remembrances of my childhood that I hope describe life in the mid-20th century Chicago. Little did I realize when I began this journey how old it would make me feel. For although these memories are, and have, been apart of my psyche for more than XX years, until I started to record them they were just that, memories. Once written, though, the memories come to life and serve to remind me how drastically different the world was for us back then.
Electronic devices are now an intregel part of our lives, world travel is commonplace, instant communication expected. In the quick pace of today, we forget the simplicity of yesterday. At least I did.
Since retiring I’ve been fortunate to have traveled to faraway places. By contrast, my life back then didn’t go much further than the boundaries of my Catholic parish. As I grew a little older it encompassed some, but not all, of the south side. The north side of Chicago was still another planet even in my teens. When I started high school at Mother McAuley, which was maybe eight – ten miles from home, I felt as if I was in another state.
And while today I can get news instantly on my iPhone from anywhere I happen to be, back then our news came in the twice-a-day delivery of the newspapers or on the radio. Televisions in homes was a novelty and even if you had one, all broadcasting stopped after the 10pm news. My grandpa Kelly died in 1954, when I was nine years old, and we still didn’t have one. We watched the 7 inch tv in his apartment. All the kids on the block thought how lucky my brother Jackie and I were to be able to watch the Long Ranger on his TV every Saturday at noon.
Whether, as some argue, it was better back then, I will leave to each person’s own judgement. What I can say it that the world as I knew it was a whole lot different in the mid-1950’s and a world I wish I could visit once again. Would I want to stay there? I don’t know. I don’t think so. But I sure would like to have the powers to travel back in time to experience it one last time.
I also would like this blog serve to share with my children and grandchildren an understanding of those who came before them. Life was not only a lot different, it was a lot more difficult back then – – – especially for those who came before me: my parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles.
It would be nice for those living and succeeding in today’s world, to understand those who, many years ago, worked long hours in difficult jobs and in many cases experienced unfair discrimination. . . but preserving so that the generations to come could have a better life.
And don’t kid yourself: that is exactly what most of our ancestors worked for: us.
Perhaps someday even my great-grandchildren will find some interesting nuggets of information on these pages.
So this blog is dedicated to my grandparents Hannah and Patrick Kelly, Mary Ann and William Murphy and my parents Eileen and Art Murphy
And all others who worked so hard so that I now have the luxury of a retirement spent with friends and family, traveling the world, playing with electronic devices, and sitting in air-conditioned comfort as I take time to scribble these few thoughts.
Growing up in Chicago in the '50's 