3# More of my childhood.

My Grandparents on the Meter side (formerly Van Meter or so I was told) came over from Holland and settled in Roseland. Which was a section of Chicago which had been settled by people from the Dutch heritage.  Their Dutch religion was very strict.  My Daddy used to tell us that they were not even allowed to read the cartoon section of the newspaper on Sundays.  Which in our day was always a special past-time! Dancing was also strictly forbidden.  Of course, they had no use for the Catholic faith!  His family forbade my Dad to marry mother , who was Catholic. 

I remember only a few times visiting at their home in Roseland. They did have a lovely but modest , old farmhouse. I loved the yard!  Being raised  in the city. We never had a yard. Grandma kept the Living room always clean but shut off from the rest of the house - to be used only for special company.  Grampa used to tease me about being so skinny and tell me to eat some more to fill the hole in my stomach!  My parents  relationship was always strained with them; so when my Daddy was killed in that dreadful accident at the young age of 39; we seldom, if ever, heard from them again.  I do remember one time - many years later when my Grandma Meter came to our house on Halsted street.  She got there on the streetcar and that was a long way for her to travel- that way.  My Daddy was the oldest of 8 children- 4 girls and 4 boys. My Dad was William Samuel - named after his Father and Grandma was Jacoba..  They died in a Dutch home  for the elderly and are buried in Mt. Hope Cemetery in Chicago where my Dad is also  buried. 

I was Christened in the Episcopalian church because my Mama and Daddy were not affiliated in ANY church. Since my Mother could no longer practice her religion and my Daddy had long ago given up his- they just sent us to whatever church nearby that would have us.  Mostly we went to Sunday School and I am grateful for that because other than that - there was not much said about God in our house.  Of course, Mama always saw to it that we said  the Our Father at night. 

   One of my fondest memories about my mama is her singing.  She sang around the house all the time.  Always at night she would sing songs to me until I fell asleep.  As you know , I have tried very hard to pass that tradition on to all of my children.  Some of my favorites. are Gerooshi, The Passing Policeman. and two Little Chaps.  You children all had your favorites also; as you know!

  Some of my earliest memories  are of playing with my cousins, doing what ever naughty thing we could think of ; while the grownups played cards and had their drinks. I must have been three or four - when Paulie and I attempted to eat a whole watermelon  sitting under the kitchen table.  We didn't need spankings because we both got so sick.  They say we remember the traumatic things and one day , when i was about 5 years old; I rode my tricycle to the corner .  I was only allowed to go as far as the alleyway.  Not to cross!  The Parkman Public school was across the alley.  I always wanted to go into the schoolyard.  It was during the summer and school was out.  Well, I carefully crossed the alley, looking both ways first, as I was taught.  I decided I would just pedal into the school yard, turn around and go right back home.  When I got there, I all of sudden had to pee sooo bad!  I ran back home , leaving my tricycle there, thinking I would run right back.  Well, I did come right back but by then - my new tricycle had been stolen!  Such grief! and of course I could  never tell Mama- where I left my bike and that alone made me cry!!  Another lesson learned, the hard way. Ha !   Later in the year, I started school in the Kindergarten class at the very, same school and always looked for my bike.!

  My father was a tool and die maker, which I am told was quite a good job and kept his family pretty well, considering the Depression in those years.  I was born at the very worst time economically.  We probably would have been ok but then he had that dreadful accident. I always loved him very much, and considered myself his favorite (if such a thing is possible)   After all, I was named after him.! I especially remember running to  this tall, handsome man when he came home from work and saying Daddy, Daddy, as he swung me up on his shoulders.  I think he was just under 6 ft; but during my childhood years, after he died,  I would yearn for him and picture him coming in the bedroom doorway with his head almost touching the top of the door.  Whenever I was feeling down, I would imagine this and it comforted me!



On hot nights we would  all sit on the front porch, get ice cream from the ice cream truck, and listen to the fights;   In those days there was no television, so everyone listened on the radio.  The heavyweight boxing matches were a very big entertainment for most people .My Dad loved it and would explain  to me all about the fighters .  I guess it made me feel close to him getting special attention!  Sometimes  we would sleep on the back porch because it was too hot in the  house.  I  loved him very much. I was his "little Billie" I guess I really put him on a pedestal and consequently all men! Which of course, may have been the source of a lot of problems for me. Since I know today that God, alone should be on that pedestal.

  The day of his death is very clear to me; even though, I was only six and a half.  It happened in July, 1936.  I was sitting on our neighbors porch; curiously their name just came to me. They were an Italian family called the Carranos. I was entertaining them with my singing. I always loved singing songs and felt I was quite good, at the time. At least my Daddy always said I was and encouraged me to sing for him and everyone who would listen. Ha Ha!  All of a sudden:  people started running across the street to where my Daddy had a rented garage.  It was in back of the house across the street from ours.  I ran over also!  Not knowing what the commotion was or what it would turn out to be!! Everyone was gathered in the garage and alley.  My Mama and my sisters- Viola and LaVerne were screaming and crying! I saw my Daddy lying under the car. Just his legs were sticking out.  He had been working on the car, like he always did in the evenings. The jack had slipped; the car had fell on him and something protruding had struck his temple. No one knew how long he had been lying there ,when a neighbor man, who always came by to talk with him arrived. When they pulled him out while we were all sobbing, it looked like he was just sleeping. This handsome, good man was dead!  

  I don't remember much else about it except what I heard the adults saying from time to time.  I do remember the Doctor coming across the prairie- slowly.  He was an old man and my Mama kept screaming  to him to hurry.  The next thing I knew - my little sister Jeanie and I had been whisked off to stay with my Grandma Lagger at her house until the funeral.  It was terrible to be taken away from my family at that time.  I cried every night and couldn't sleep.  I do remember my Uncle Bill (mama's brother) trying to comfort me by telling stories, and taking us for ice cream the next day at Kresges.  A big dime store on 63rd near where they lived.  

   I remember getting dressed up and going to the funeral with my Grandma and seeing this person in the casket, who didn't look anything like "my daddy".  I guess they weren't as good with the embalming in those days! I never understood why I had to leave my family when he died, until I lost my own son-Jimmy. We were so grief stricken that we sent Sherri and Gene to stay with friends. I wish  now, that I would never have allowed it.  I hope and pray that it was not so terrible for them as it was for me!