What is deep, dark, long, and happens in South Chicago in the late 1960’s?

The great (Luster) depression.

(Posted by Gayle)

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Striving for more compulsively can cause you to end up with less. My father was never satisfied. He did everything big (except save money). By the time I was in 5th grade his thirst for more was leading to some pretty bad business decisions. He made a mess of his business (against my mother’s pleas) and was in some very hot water financially. We moved from our luxurious brownstone apartment into a small two flat on the far south side of Chicago. I began attending a public school in 6th grade. We spent 3 years in this neighborhood.

The things I remember about this period of my life are:

Buying my clothes for school at K-Mart.
Hoping that if I wore the same dress to school two days in a row the kids might begin to like me. I had problems at the private school because it was obvious my family was wealthy. Now that we were “poor”, I was hopeful that I would fare better with the kids in my class. I actually wanted them to know were poor. I had enough clothes to wear a different outfit each day, but being resourceful I hoped repeating ensembles would work in my favor.
My father laying in bed depressed because of the financial situation. I never saw him being violent again, but he was filled with self-hatred. I’ve heard it said that depression is anger turned inward.
The business being dissolved and bankruptcy being filed.
My mother getting a job at the local Jewel grocery store. She went to work in the butcher department and cut and ground meat. When she wasn’t working she would get on a bus (she didn’t drive) and take sterling silver items such as teapots and candlesticks to resale shops to sell them. I never saw her cry about it – she did throw a few temper tantrums to try to get dad out of bed.
My first kiss, my first cigarette, my first 45 rpm record (Crimson and Clover by Tommy James and the Shondells) and, on more than one occasion, drinking too much alcohol the summer between 7th and 8th grade.
My first paying babysitting job.
Feeling guilty at Christmas because I was the only one who got presents. I received way too many of them considering how bad things were.
Being boy crazy.
Spending Christmas in Texas, while dad stayed home. He was so depressed that I feared for his life that Christmas.
The first Moon Walk
The Vietnam War.
My father rising from his depression bed and finally getting a job selling real estate.

Don’t worry, things can always get worse. I graduated” from 8th grade and we moved further south to a suburb of Chicago named Oak Lawn. It was August, 1971. On the 3rd of December in that same year my father died suddenly of a heart attack. I was at home alone with him when it happened. I called the paramedics. They took him away in an ambulance. A neighbor drove me to the hospital where I waited for my mother. The Grinch Who Stole Christmas was playing on TV in the ER waiting room. Little did I know, the Grinch was stealing my dad too.

Nothing stays the same. Mom was on her way home from work by bus. The news was broken to me once she arrived. We were pulled into a small consultation room and told they “did all they could”. It took a while for my mother to understand the words that were being spoken to her. She said “you don’t mean he is dead do you?” I remember reaching out for her hand and telling her we would be okay. I didn’t want to see him. She did. I don’t remember being alone in the consultation room, but I’m sure I was. Life as I knew it was over. Everything – absolutely everything – was going to change.

When you are in a crisis, needs come before wants. I finished my 9th grade year in Chicago. There was no doubt we were moving to Texas as soon as I finished the year. My mother had been trying to migrate back to her home for as long as I could remember. Now she needed to – not just wanted to. Family support was vital to us. Her 8 brothers and sisters lived there, as well as her mother, step-father, father, and step-mother (also a May December couple.)

Recovery is possible. Once we got to Texas, I started high school at Sunset High in Dallas. Generally I had a very positive experience. I immediately followed my nose into the drama department. I was active in high school and made close friends. I liked different boys along the way. I was smitten with a guy one year younger than me. Our friendship was stronger than our relationship. I was beginning to learn to withhold my true feelings so I never told him exactly how I felt. This remained a pattern of mine in my primary relationships to come. It took me a long time to regain my warmth, openness, and trust. When I am under stress I still have a tendency to retreat.
hsgayle
A picture is still worth a thousand words. This one pretty well sums up the girl who graduated in 1975. I’m in my high school “signature” pose in this picture. My goal was to see how many times I could appear in the year book with my middle finger extended. I cropped out the beer in my left hand. I graduated 7th in my class, was the most talented senior girl, the president of numerous clubs, a member of the national honor society, I drove myself to drivers ed, and wore a red t-shirt to class on Fridays with my nickname on it …”lust”. I was indeed a holy terror…

Determination was my mother’s “middle name.” While I was in high school, people often asked my mother if she ever planned to marry again. She always said “yes, the day Gayle leaves for college!” I never believed her, but my mom proved to be a woman of her word (almost.) She started dating during my senior year. She dated exactly 2 men and fell in love with one of them. I left for school the last week of August. I returned home on Labor Day weekend for her wedding to a man…. 15 years…her junior.

And so it goes… the next leg in my journey to May December Secrets was underway. We’re heading back to West Virgina in upcoming posts to meet up with Ron again. It wont’ be long before we meet! Be sure to subscribe to our RSS feed so you won’t miss a word!

Read Part 1 of Ron’s Story

Read Part 2 of Ron’s Story

Read Part 1 of My Story

Read Part 2 of My Story

Read Part 2a of My Story

Read Part 2b of My Story