Going Back in Time and Picking Up the Pieces

Letters to my Kids.....

Even though there was all this behind the scenes drama, as far as I was concerned I lived in Paradise.  My father inherited some land surrounded by corn fields down a quarter mile dirt road.  The property had a pond.  I can not hear a red wing blackbird without becoming 5 years old again.

I'm here because my parents looked like this..
Looking at this photo I sense a similar dynamic.

My mother was the girl next door who moved to the sticks from the Southside of Chicago.
My Motherland is Blackstone Ave, Chicago.

And my father sang like this.

Down the road was the state mental hospital.  As a Christian Science healer my Grandma Lydia visited people there and I went along.  The place scared the shit out of me.  Probably because I was open to all the vibes being stoned.  The point it made on me was.... NEVER go Insane.  I volunteered in high school to do art classes.  One of the funnest times I ever had.

I was at my Grandmother's most of the time.  It was like living in Munchkin Land.

My Grandmother had a green thumb and a compulsion to grow things.

Past the vegetable garden was the orchard, then the woods where I pretended I was with Lewis and Clark.  Past that was the field where racehorses from Chicago were kept.  They wanted my father to be a jockey.
  There was an old gangster car with bullet holes  dumped back there.
Around the corner was a Gangster Hideout.  I went there for a party once when it was a Bethlehem Steel Executive Hangout.  I was married to a manager.  I just remember the carpet being incredibly lush.
Then I would rotate to my other Grandmother's and Aunties who took me to Chicago.   I would go from cornfield to Marshall Fields in an hour.

Summers were spent on  Lake Michigan.
One of the most magical moments is watching the sunset behind Chicago.

 

Summers we went to the Museum of Science and Industry.

Aunt Donna introduced me to the Art Institute.  My mother took classes there when she was young.