Related by Marriage: Bleary

Suburban Chicago, January 2, 1962. Mr. Irene has had a too much "50/50" at his party.

Seated are Mr. Irene's maternal Grandmother Anna, his Grandfather Stanley, and his Godfather Anthony.

Related by Marriage: A Visit from a Cousin

Suburban Chicago, January 2, 1962. Here's Mr. Irene and  his "Cousin I." Cousin I is Anthony's daughter; Anthony was Mr. Irene's Godfather.

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Suburban Chicago, January 2, 1962. Cousin I's Mom sits between Cousin I and Mr. Irene. That's the head of Mr. Irene's maternal Grandmother, Anna, on the left.

Chicagoans: does that box of Heinmann's cookies from Dominick's trigger your salivary glands? The cookies likely were those thin chocolate chip ones that often seemed a bit overly crispy on the edges. We were a "Jewel family," so I didn't visit Dominick's often. My Parents probably thought it was too Italian. My neighbor took me to the River Forest Dominick's on North Avenue once or twice a year: on those occasions, I grabbed a few hot cookies as they emerged into the bakery on a conveyer belt. The store encouraged that conduct.

Let's go to "The Plaza."

A Melrose Park landmark, Winston Plaza stood at the intersection of Ninth Avenue and North Avenue. "The Plaza," as we called it, was across the street from Amling's Flowerland.

The Plaza was a hub of many activities, but at its heart, it was a shopping center. Most Melrose Parkers did all of their shopping at The Plaza. Two grocery stores—Dominick's (originally a Kroger) and Jewel—anchored the mall. Moms usually shopped at either Dominick's or Jewel, but never at both. We were a "Jewel family." (I leave discussions of "Foodtown" and "Bonnie Bee" for later posts.)

The Plaza had a Walgreen's and a number of other stores that attracted preteens and teens. There was, for example, a record shop, a Lerner Shop, and a discount store, Newberry's. Newberry's had wooden floors similar to those one usually found in a Woolworth's. 

The higher-end, department-style, store was Madigan's. My Mom bought shoes and underwear there occasionally. Madigan's had a small book department—toward the back, near the bathrooms. After my Parents took me to see Mary Poppins at the movie theater, they bought the official Walt Disney Mary Poppins book for me when we visited Madigan's one evening. I remember feeling very special that day.

One of the undercover security guards at Madigan's was a patient of my Mom's. We'd see her walking around the women's department, looking cosmically bored, spinning the dress carousels as she feigned interest in the merchandise.

My childhood home was less than one mile from The Plaza. I was not allowed to go there alone, or with my Best Friend, until I reached the Seventh Grade. After I got my big-girl bicycle, however, my Best Friend and I sometimes snuck away to The Plaza and illicitly bought things like lip gloss, Fritos, and Creedance Clearwater Revival records.

When I was much smaller, my Dad sometimes walked with me to The Plaza. One year, The Plaza featured an "attraction" for kids: an "Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe" structure.

Suburban Chicago, February 1964. There's still snow on the ground, but Dad decides it's warm enough to make the 0.84-mile walk to Winston Plaza. "The Swan" stands in our open garage.

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Suburban Chicago, February 1964. We walk near Silver Creek as we make our way down Andy Drive, and across Fifth Avenue.

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Suburban Chicago, February 1964. We're getting close! There's the baptist church on the corner of Andy Drive and Ninth Avenue.

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Suburban Chicago, February 1964. We've reached the "Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe" attraction.

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Suburban Chicago, February 1964. It's a lame, walk-through lure of nothingness.

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Verona, Wisconsin, February 2012. But cheer up! I still can go home and read Mary Poppins.