Poker Perambulation

Part of the diagnosis is living in the past with those memories more vivid than the present. Well, it is PBS’ pledge decade week. Beside all the self help crap; ours has a series called Remembering Chicago. And, I go to living in the past. It points out the disconnect between me and most of you.

The two that set this off is “Remembering Chicago – the War Years” and “Remembering – the Boomer Years”. I slot between the two. WWII was unimportant fragments interleaved with the important things of childhood. My sisters were boomers meaning born during (draft dodgers) and just after where procreation ran rampant – making up for lost time.

Believe it or not, there were horses drawing carts – real teamsters. Well, it was the war years and there was gas rationing. So, the produce truck that delivered to Gramp’s store was powered by two horses. Of course, Obama wasn’t around so there weren’t a lot of programs. That cart had a driver and two retards special people. One of those was a huge black guy. They seemed to have more respect – self and external – working a job. Nobody made anything of it and folks went out of the way to be pleasant to them. There was a guy that had a hand cart that would come down the alley sharpening knives and scissors. There were a lot of little businesses that supported people and aren’t thought appropriate these days.

In 58 — no, not 18 wise ass — I was just out of high school. When I could put 20-30 together, we’d go downtown Chicago – Mr. Kelly’s, The London House, The Gate of Horn and a bunch of others. For a 2.50 cover and a two drink minimum, we’d see Lena Horn, Mort Saul and about every name you can mention. (Ella Fitzgerald was a dollar surcharge according to the PBS show.)The house band at the London House was Ramsey Lewis. The Gate of Horn was in a corner basement but Odetta and Josh White could be heard and that place didn’t usually even have a cover. You guys bragging about what you had to pay to see some group I never heard of has me rolling on the floor.

Yeah, I was 18 but if you put on a suit and your date wore that “little black dress” that the girls all had, you were never ever carded. Oh, and the cost of those two drinks on the minimum was way pricey. They were two-fifty a whack. The cover waived for average places/acts. Parking was three-bucks. I could pull it off with a 20, if we watched it.

Second City was in an old store front down by Lincoln Park. They turned the vacant lot next door into an outdoor beer garden that served pitchers of Sangria and the actors would cage a glass off you after the show. I watched Nichols and May drive off into the night on their Vespa motor scooter.

All that and a bunch more comes rushing back. It is how I lived and it all seemed terribly normal. It makes it hard to relate to these days. I guess we had it pretty good, if we’d ever thought about it.  Congress says we need better; that our times were primitive and uncaring.  The difference is the people then not only cared but figured out solutions without legislation being needed.

Our poor parents would be in jail these days. In the summer they drove us out onto the street – unsupervised by an adult. They drove around with loose kids in the car. The politicians they voted for would tip their hat to their constituents instead of telling them how to raise their kids. And, damned if we didn't survive and even prosper.

ADDENDUM:

As to underage drinking, I did it for the first time when I was 16 and my buddy, Parky, was 15. Again, we wore suits — the key it seems.  It was at Trader Vic's in the Palmer House and we had Planter's Punch and got a bit looped.

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