My dad was born on April 24, 1931. He turns 95 years old today. He was in my home recently, so I decided to gather as much information as I could about his childhood. I didn’t know much about it at all, sadly. (Make sure to ask your parents about their childhood before they die!)

He grew up in a small apartment above a bowling alley in North Chicago. It was about 600 square feet. His bed was right above where the pins were hit. He’s always been a great sleeper because of this! He had his own bedroom with a small closet. (People didn’t have as many clothes as we do these days.) His parents’ bed was in the living room, where the radio and some chairs were, with a curtain separating them.

His family didn’t have a car, electricity, telephone, television, or refrigerator. They had a small ice box. A man brought a 25-pound box of ice once a week to put into it. His mother had a Singer sewing machine that she had to pedal to make it work. She made all of her dresses because she only wore dresses. All the women did back then. She bought my dad’s few clothes from Sears.

There was a small grocery store a block away. His mom would go and tell the owner what she wanted. The owner would collect the food, then put it on her tab, which his dad would pay every other week after he got his paycheck.

My dad’s dad worked as a machinist at Abbott Labs. He walked the five blocks to work every day. Chicago gets frigid in the winters! He never made more than three dollars an hour, yet he never wanted his wife to work. He wanted her to raise their son at home. My dad never wanted my mom to be in the workforce either. He wanted her to raise us instead of strangers. (Thank you, Dad!)

His dad smoked two packs of cigarettes a day since he was 13 years old until he died from lung cancer at the age of 75. He wasn’t a believer until two years before his death. He called my dad one day, two years before he died, and told him he had listened to Billy Graham and decided to believe in Jesus Christ! His mother was a strong believer and took my dad on the streetcar to Sunday School and church every Sunday. My dad never once heard his mom and dad argue. She was a kind and gracious woman.

My dad told me he never remembers going to a restaurant or on vacation, but he never felt poor. He had parents who loved each other, a roof over his head, a bed to sleep in, and food in his belly. He told me all types of fornication were frowned upon back then. Mothers were home full-time with their children. Most marriages were for a lifetime. Women dressed modestly.

My dad wasn’t poor. Many children these days are poor. They have all of the modern conveniences, but they don’t have parents who love each other; many have parents who are divorced. They’re exposed to all types of depravity on TV, social media, billboards, and even in schools.  They spend their days in front of screens. He said even in North Chicago, where everyone was as poor as they were, there were no gangs and little crime. Crime was dealt with swiftly back then. They were learning reading, writing, and arithmetic in schools instead of feminism and Marxism. People were thankful to be living in America. It was definitely different back then.

Children’s children are the crown of old men; and the glory of children are their fathers.
Proverbs 17:6

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