I remember the day but not the day of the week. It was winter. Less than three weeks away from the shortest day. We had moved the past summer to a farming community 40 miles north of Chicago. My father rode the Milwaukee Road Railroad to and from Chicago each day. At age 13, I was angry that we had moved away from Logan Square and all my friends. Starting 7th grade in a new school was difficult, and no one lived nearby. It is easy to be angry with your parents at 13 but difficult to express the anger. Al least it was in 1958. It was easier to vilify them—make them a different species—impossible to deal with. So it was with me and my father. As I began my emancipation he resisted and we became more estranged. He was incapable of feeling. I was sure of it. We heard about the OLA fire when we came home from school. It was not until 6 that evening when my father walked in the door. It was dark already. We were fairly isolated. There were no lights from other houses visible from our windows. The night had never seemed scary before but this night it felt evil. I was glad my father was home. He kissed mother in the kitchen and then went to his bedroom. I followed him in. He was standing with his back to me but I could tell by his hand movements he was taking off his cufflinks and placing them on top of his dresser. I asked, did you hear about the fire? That’s when he turned and looked down at me and began to cry. He sat down on a chair next to his dresser and wept. His chest heaved up and down—he could no longer hold his pain. I walked closer and he reached out and held me close for a few moments. Did you know someone in the fire, I asked. All those children, all those children, was all he could say. My father and I continued to have rough times, only reconciling when I was older. But I never thought of him in the same way after that night in his bedroom. I’m embarrassed to say at the time I didn’t understand why he would cry over the loss of children he had never met. Now I am 60. I have four children. I understand why he would cry because it is all I can do when I think upon the children.
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