I told my Best Friend the other day that I thought I’d write about growing up stupid. “We weren’t stupid,” said he, “we were just sheltered and naive.” He’s right. We had no idea that there were people and things in the world that would want to hurt us.
I was about 12 when a well-dressed man in downtown Yorkville (population about 900) insisted upon giving me a ride home. Recalling Mom’s dictate about never getting into a car with a strange man, I kept walking and refusing. I found out later that my would-be chauffeur was the Kendall County District Attorney. He would probably have been safe, but Momma said …
Neither my BF nor I knew anything about drugs. When news reported that drummer Gene Krupa ingested morphine, I had to ask Mom what that was. She explained that it was a drug used to kill pain, but, if used without discretion, could be addictive. I wasn’t sure what that meant either.
Our “drug” of rebellion was tobacco. A girl in my senior class used to leave school grounds on a dead run to get behind a tree and light a cigarette. We thought she was “fast” and avoided her whenever possible.
I don’t remember bullies either. We didn’t even tease Georgie Woolenweber whose mother went with him when he went out to ring doorbells on Halloween. We just ignored him.
I saw my first drunk on an eighth-grade school trip to Chicago. The bus let us off near our destination — Hull House — and we walked down Maxwell Street with all its sidewalk merchants. A drunk had established himself under one of the vendors’ tables shouting and grabbing at ankles. I was terrified. Miss Strauss explained that he was more to be pitied than censored, but I was scared.
My BF played baseball with the “First Street Tigers”, usually vs. the “Madison Street Bears” in his hometown. The game broke up if the kid who owned the baseball got mad and went home, so the others went down to the Rock River where some of the thousands of unemployed during the Great Depression were camped under the railroad bridge. We didn’t fear these men. My BF’s mother, like mine, fed those who showed up at the back door offering to work for a hot meal.
OK, maybe not stupid — maybe just naive — but it was a comfortable way to grow up. I’m thankful to be alive to remember and enjoy a care-free childhood.
Liz Ciancone is a retired Tribune-Star reporter. Send e-mail to opinion@tribstar.com.
Liz Ciancone
LIZ CIANCONE: Small-town kids were naive, but not stupid
- Liz Ciancone
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LIZ CIANCONE: She wasn’t hooked by the fishing hobby
I’m told that eveyone should have a hobby. If “hobby” means collecting something like stamps or coins, I don’t have one.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Many happy thoughts to go around on Mothers’ Day
I know this is going to sound goofy, but Mothers’ Day never passes that I don’t think of my Uncle Jim.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Drive down memory lane with vintage cars
I got to the sports center the other morning and found Ben, Diane and Ron in a serious discussion about cars — vintage cars.
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LIZ CIANCONE: What to make of that mild winter
I’m old enough to have seen some interesting fluctuations in weather, but this year has taken the gold-plated trophy.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Eating and dining can have their own rhythm
I put down my fork after supper the other evening and remembered our family suppers when I was a kid.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Holidays don't mean what they used to
It’s funny how your perspective on holidays changes as you grow older. I thought of that the other morning as we are about to start the countdown to Memorial Day.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Who do we think we're foolin' over time dance?
It seems like only yesterday we’d head for the Family Sports Center at an early hour. The sky in the east was a lighter shade of gray. We could see kids waiting for the school bus a block or more ahead. By the time we got to Hulman Field, there was actually a bit of pink in the sky.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Pastor Pat may want to re-read his Bible
I’ve done my share of Monday-morning quarterbacking. I guess most of us don’t take Sunday losses well. We seem to figure that if only we were coaching, our team would have won the game.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Cubs fans never give up hope for a winner
Ho hum! Another spring, another nail-biter for Cubs fans.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Earliest memories of time and place
Over lunch the other day, my Best Friend and I were discussing our earliest memories. Neither of us could actually attach an age to our earliest. He informed me that while you could remember incidents, you must develop what he called “cognitive awareness” before you could associate the memory with a specific age.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Business taking the fun out of athletics
Remember when college sports were actually games? A good, friendly rivalry added spice to the Saturday afternoon festivities when I was in college.
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LIZ CIANCONE: And why didn’t they call him ‘Kernel’?
A brief article recently in the Chicago Tribune reminded me of a noble experiment which flopped.
The late Col. Robert McCormick, owner of the “Trib,” launched a crusade against what he said was the “unspeakable offence” of English spelling. I was still in grade school, struggling with spelling on a daily basis, so I thought it was a splendid idea. The idea never caught on and after 40 years, the colonel and the Trib threw in the towel.
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LIZ CIANCONE: The most special birthday cake of all
Our family birthdays are well staggered throughout the year, so we try to make them special.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Always fond of those silent types — of movies
I’m not a big movie fan, but a few days ago Number Two son said he almost had to have me sedated and hauled off to a movie. He insisted that I’d enjoy it.
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LIZ CIANCONE: A little bit of cursive comes in handy
Good grief. What next?
I read recently that there is a movement underfoot to cease teaching cursive writing in the public schools. I understand that this is merely a suggestion and is optional, but still …
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LIZ CIANCONE: Give pets the gift of a better, longer life
It’s amazing how many of us at the Family Sports Center are involved with pets. But I recently became aware of how involved some of us have become.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Super Bowl festivities mostly for super rich
I hate being in a minority, but I guess I am. I am considerably less than thrilled over having the Super Bowl altogether too close to my back yard.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Catalog this mail as junk
On or about Dec. 1, I picked up the mail to find three Christmas cards along with an unusual spate of catalogs. The cards reminded me that mine were still in the bottom drawer of the desk waiting to be addressed. I appreciated that.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Up close and personal with Da Bears' Mike Ditka
Mark Bennett’s delightful story of how his son acquired Barry Larkin’s autograph reminded me of how Number Two son scored the signature of Mike Ditka.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Small-town kids were naive, but not stupid
I told my Best Friend the other day that I thought I’d write about growing up stupid. “We weren’t stupid,” said he, “we were just sheltered and naive.” He’s right. We had no idea that there were people and things in the world that would want to hurt us.
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LIZ CIANCONE: She’s all for spacing out those holidays
That swooshing sound you heard may not have been the wind. It was me! I was breathing a sigh of relief that the holidays are over until the next time.
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MS. TAKES: Some look forward to spring and garage sales
We are officially into winter and just days after the longest day of the year. We can begin counting the days until spring and can look forward to waking up to a bit of sun.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Let gifts to lawmakers help cut the deficit
In the holiday spirit of giving, I’d like to pass along to Congress a tip I ran across in my reading. If adopted, it would enable the competing parties in Washington, D.C. to enhance federal income without raising taxes or reducing social programs.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Pujols’ gift list overflows — for now, at least
It’s going to be a Merry Christmas for the Albert Pujols family this year!
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LIZ CIANCONE: How much 'twinkle' do we need for holidays?
I had an especially dear friend who went into a blue funk in Christmas season. She once threatened to spell out “Bah, Humbug!” in twinkle lights on her lawn.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Work's not a 'right', it's a necessity
I understand the Indiana Legislature intends to work to produce a “right to work” bill this coming session.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Holidays bring on baking duties
Somehow, in the vast scheme of things, I have ended up point person for holiday baking.
I know how it happened. Mom was a great cook. I’d give almost anything if I had found her recipe for raisin sugar cookies or the chocolate-orange cake. She turned out coffee cakes, sweet rolls, bread, butterfly rolls and sweet surprises. We always had dessert.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Keeping track of a tattered underworld
Mom always told me to be sure I never left the house with torn or dirty underwear. She usually added a warning about being hit by a truck or a bus, or some other catastrophe befalling, so that I’d be carted off to the hospital where my tattered underwear would become a matter of public record and private shame.
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LIZ CIANCONE: So far, this is a poor excuse for debate
I don’t know about you, but I’ve seen enough “debates” to last the rest of my natural life.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Sounds of silence are now hard to find
Is there anyplace left where there is no noise — other than the comforting noises of nature?
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