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Life 101 was taught to me in an old mansion in inner-city Chicago.                                                                          I am fixated by the image of her and how she trained me for a life of service.                                                                        Though I cannot determine the age of the HOUSE, I first saw it in 1968, and it                                                                             seems to have been a mansion at one time, perhaps back in the depression.                                                            This property was surrounded by a fence with a big detached garage in the back, and the yard was spacious enough for a flower GARDEN suitable for FERNS and various flowers. Growing vegetables sounded great, but during our tenure, we never took the time for such. 

The new owners, with whom I was associated, converted it into a halfway center for drug addicts and alcoholics. There were some minor improvements and interior conversions on both floors, and the attic was well utilized for its wide open space which was nicely suited for a dormitory. There was a lovely PORCH with a single large WINDOW on each side of the brick home. Apparently the ROOF was in good shape because it was not replaced in the six years I was there.

Returning to Chicago in 2008, I decided to pay a visit to the area where I had once resided in the red-brick-once-upon-a-time beautiful structure, only to find it rundown from prolonged neglect.  From sagging rain gutters to chipped paint; from loose siding to unstable steps, there was a cry of abandonment. Like so many areas in the big cities, many blocks in this once working man's community were boarded up and looked to have been depopulated for several years. I was able to gain entry without incident from authorities, but the main DOOR was barely being held up with one hinge. I immediately began to think about all the hard work and the many tears that were shed in giving aid to guys that had given up on a normal life and found this haven in an asphalt jungle on the corner of Hoyne and Evergreen.  I slowly ascended the deteriorating STAIRCASE that ringed WHISPERS of memories, some of which were pleasant but some, not so much.  

As I departed this once Haven of Rest, this Noah's Ark, this little piece of Heaven on Earth for men who found hope where there was none, I saw that her days were numbered.  Back then, no one would disagree that the now dying structure looked like a ROSETTE surrounded by roses denied of water. As I write this, I am filled with the mixed emotions of sadness and joy.  Sadness because I still see the faces of those who failed to be helped, and joy for the many whose lives were forever changed. The tears back then and my present watery eyes are not 'vain drops'.  Moreover, I shall always remember the years I spent there before the decaying process began, and the lives that were sheltered from the storms of life in the windy city by the great lake.

071520PSCtest, Decaying House, Constance La France. 2P                                                                                                                                                                             *Some fiction, based on true life story
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