In celebration of this 50 year landmark, I write these words. . .

byCBKitten

207 followers

Updated 7 years ago

Back in 1967, early in the morning of Saturday, July 1st, a young girl sprang out of bed. The sun was already peaking over the horizon. She was mentally kicking herself for not waking up sooner. Two tightly packed brown paper bags with about a weeks work of clothing and a few toiletries were waiting in a secret hiding place. She had a roll of Kennedy half dollars in her pocket. It was unbelievable that she was able to sneak this money out of her Dad's bedroom under the watchful eyes of her (S)mother, always peaking around a corner to "catch her in the act."

Several years before, one of her brothers and two cousins (one of each gender) had tried this very same thing along with her. At that time they collectively took all the goodies (salty snacks and candy, mostly) out of the cupboards in the home and stashed them in paper bags. Remember, this was BEFORE the days of plastic! They hide the "food" (to use the term lightly) in the weeds across the street in what was known as "The Prairie." With a few clothing items were thrown in the mix, they figured they had all bases covered. With their ages in the 10 to 14 range, they were not that savvy about what was needed to "get out on their own." The wild animals that got a whiff of this grub tore that stuff apart. It may have also rained that night. These events happened a long time ago, making it hard to recall.

Anyway, she concluded she was much smarter now and had everything she needed to start a new life. Creeping quietly out of the house so as not to wake the rest of the family, she made her way to the garage. Her bicycle was waiting there to help with her journey into the wild blue yonder.

I need to intercede here to tell you about the bicycle. It is symbolic in this respect: A little over a year earlier, at the age of 16, the girl finally earned the privilege of riding this bike all the way around the block, without crossing any streets. Up until then, she was only allowed to ride it in front of the house, so if her Smother walked to the edge of the driveway out front, she could see her in one direction or the other. Some of the kids in school were already driving cars at that age! It would not be proper to call them friends since she did not fit in with any crowd.

As she was trying to make her escape, her 4-year-old sister tumbled out of bed and followed her out into the back yard. Thinking the little darling/brat was about to ruin all her plans, she locked her in the garage. This lock up took place only after careful consideration as to whether to take her along for the ride. With that idea nixed, the only other recourse to keep her from "blowing the whistle" was to confine her to the garage long enough to get far away.

Heading out to the south-southwest with no definite plans, she eventually found herself riding on a narrow two lane road with traffic in each direction and gravel shoulders. Her mind was racing trying to figure out things that she would need to do or plan for. There was an S curve on Cass Ave near 35th St. with a field containing some fenced in horses. She stopped and talked to them for a while. She had her sights set on going to Blue Village, a teenage dance club in Westmont. It was the best chance she had of meeting her boyfriend there that night. The last time she talked to him, she told him she would be there.

When she arrived at the dance club, it was still morning, a couple of hours before noon. As she was loitering around, trying to kill time, she realized that if she waited, her beau (a guy her Smother highly approved of = picked out for her) would talk her into returning home. After getting a taste of freedom during the morning ride, with the wind in her hair, she decided not to let that happen. She would peddle to Peoria, IL. Her only connection to that town had something to do with her brother staying there at a halfway house when he got out of reform school. She had never really been there. Of course, she had never really been anywhere else before, either. Alone!

Back then a soda from a vending machine cost a dime. She stopped several times and bought one of these, her favorite flavors being either orange or root beer. Toward the late afternoon, she stopped at a small gas station in Lockport to quench her thirst. A guy that worked there came out to talk to her and asked her name. She was startled since this had not even crossed her mind. What will she call herself? With her mind still racing (again) she struggled to figure out a name. She said, "Call me Sis!" When she lived with her natural father, the Sunday School teacher, (named Edna) was also known as Sis. Although it was not a proper name, it was the best she could come up with on the fly.

This strange man, not more than five years her senior, took an unusual interest in her. She had not even thought about where she may end up spending the night. She told him she was going to visit her brother in Peoria. He was surprised that she thought she could get there on a bicycle, but she convinced him it was possible with determination, like just putting one foot in front of the other. He explained that the service station had vacant living quarters in the rear and offered to let her stay there for the night. She readily and gratefully accepted his kind gesture.

After he had gotten her settled in her temporary refuge, he headed home, but not before impressing upon her the need to stay hidden in the rear apartment and not to come into the area of the store or any of the lighted spaces. The local authorities patrolled the area regularly. If they saw any movement or anything suspicious, they would surely investigate further. She was scared more than she had ever been in her entire life! She sat on the bare mattress with her knees pulled up to her chest, and her arms wrapped tightly around her legs. The extreme position she was sitting in made her feel like she had folded herself inside out!

Here she was, entirely alone for the first time in her life. It was pure solitude, but it was not absolute silence. There was a sound on the other side of the closed bedroom door that reminded her of someone trying to strike a match. Over and over the noise continued but any indication that the match had finally taken fire did not happen. Sometime later, what seemed like eons, the alert cord across the front of the pumps was activated by someone driving over it. We are talking about the days BEFORE self-service gas stations. Although it seemed impossible, she tightened her grip on herself and folded up even more than she had been.

After shouting and coercing for a quite a while, the young man that had set her up in these accommodations, finally got her to come to the front and open the door. He wanted to know why it took her so long to respond. She said she was just following his previous explicit instructions. He explained that after he told his wife about meeting a girl that appeared to be a runaway the wife insisted he come back to bring her to their house. They were expecting their first child and had taken down the crib so their new friend (and temporary charge) would have more room to spread out on the floor of the nursery. Could they have had the slightest idea of how scared she may have been? Although the misguided girl did not realize it at the time, this was the first two of many guardian angels sent to take care of her needs. Being in the secure surroundings of a structured home allowed for blissful sleep. I am not sure when, but she eventually found out that the match striking noise was her first introduction to roaches crawling around on the floor.

Today (2017) there is a Prairie Path called (via Illinois Prairie Path/Illinois Prairie Path - Main Stem) according to a Google map search that goes from Berkeley though Westmont and on into Romeoville, just north of Lockport. It says the route is 25.8 miles and the estimated time of travel by bicycle to be 2 hours and 17 minutes. The runaway was not in any hurry and spent the entire day navigating in a (mostly south) and southwesterly direction. She started out going to Butterfield Rd. and headed south on Cass Ave. After leaving Westmont, she somehow ended up on Rt. 53 for the later part of her journey that first day, ending up at a gas station just north of Lewis College and a small airport. Even though 50 years have gone by, it is possible (and highly likely) the same location may now be a Mobile (Missing: Hartmann's) on the SW corner of Romeo Rd. and Independence Blvd. (aka Rt. 53)

Special thanks to Gary and Jan for coming to the rescue and helping out this young lady (who thought she was all grown up) in her time of breaking away from a smothering mother. I would not recommend this to anyone looking to follow in these footsteps. Events could have transpired in any number of less fortunate directions, you know.