Normie

June 15, 1944

Chicago, Illinois 

Ida Parminter was a diminutive woman who yielded absolute power over Norman, his baby brother, and her husband. Standing on their third floor porch, calling for Norman, Ida’s voice would resound throughout the entire block and Mitchell had often wondered how such a small lady could have such a big voice.

Standing well under six feet tall, Frank Parminter was a burly man that in his younger years had been a professional wrestler for a short time. Frank now earned his living by working at a defense plant during the week and vending beer or peanuts at the Chicago Stadium on weekends.  

Four months older than Mitchell, Norman was taller than either of his parents. He had straight, dark-blonde hair, gray eyes and a pleasant face. Myopic, he wore clear-framed glasses that accentuated a long, straight nose.

                                       **** 

Searching under the table, Norman retrieved one tattered gym shoe. Looking about, “Where’s the other?” he said aloud as he walked to the living room where a quick search revealed one end of the frayed shoelace of his other shoe beneath the sofa. Going into the bedroom he shared with his two-year-old brother, removing his pajamas, Norman put on boxer shorts, corduroy pants, and a striped polo shirt. Checking to be sure that he had the key and his “four bits,” pulling the door shut behind him, swinging himself by the banister post over the first four steps of each landing, bounding down the three flights of stairs, Norman ran through his yard, then Mitchell’s, up the three flights of stairs, and through the gate onto the Lipenskys’ porch, where Mitchell stood just inside the screen door waiting for him.

The friends hadn’t seen each other since spring vacation, over two months before, and, embarrassed by the utter joy of being in the company of the other again, the two stood on either side of the door looking at each other through the screen. Too old to hug and too young to shake hands, the emotion of being together again was clearly seen on each of their faces.

“Hi, Mitchie.”

“Hi’ya, Normie.”

“For goodness sake,” Myra scolded, “let him in!”

“Oh, yeah.” Pushing the door open, Mitchell stepped aside.

The odors of melted butter and frying cheese filled the kitchen as Myra pressed the second batch of four pieces of butter-browned white bread together with a spatula, causing the melted American cheese to ooze from between the slices of bread onto the hot griddle.

Looking at her, “Hello, Mrs. Lipensky.” Norman stared a moment at the size of Myra’s stomach beneath the apron she wore.  

“Hello, Norman… You two go wash your hands. Lunch’ll be ready in a minute.”

                                           **** 

Through with lunch, sitting on the downstairs stoop, the movie section of the Chicago Sun on his lap, “So, Mitch,” Norman asked, “you happy to be home again?”

“You kiddin’?” Feeling the vibrations of the traffic. Hearing the rattle and clang of a streetcar. Smelling the mix of cooking odors coming from the open windows. Remembering just how badly he’d missed the sounds, sights and smells of his neighborhood, of his world, caused Mitchell to feel as though he were on the verge of crying. “Yeah, Normie, I sure am! So,” he asked, changing the subject, “what’s around?”

A virtual cornucopia of movie theaters to choose from: on Ogden Avenue, two blocks to the west was the Lindy; on Kedzie Avenue, four blocks east was the White Palace; on Cermak Road, four blocks to the south was the Douglas; and about a mile east on Cermak was the Marshall Square. In the opposite direction, going north to Roosevelt Road there was the Gold, Twentieth Century, and Central Park theaters.

On Saturday afternoons, all the neighborhood movie theaters catered to the kids, showing two movies, newsreels, weekly serials, three to four cartoons and, more often then not, a comedic short. Some of the theaters even gave gifts with the price of admission, and most had weekly raffles for anyone buying at least one ten-cent war stamp that came along with a raffle ticket.

For the price of a quarter for admission and a quarter for candy and popcorn, parents felt that the movies were, indeed, a baby-sitting value beyond comparison, giving them at least three and a half hours of peace and quiet and, “So, nu, you want to stay a second time? So, okay! So stay a second time.”

Gene Autry, Roy Rogers, Red Ryder, Wild Bill Elliot, Lash LaRue.

The “good guys” wore white hats and the “bad guys” wore black hats, with the exception of “Hoppy,” Hopalong Cassidy, who always wore black.

Tarzan, Boston Blackie, the Thin Man, Charlie Chan, Sherlock Holmes… “Elementary, my dear Watson.”

Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy, Abbot and Costello, the Three Stooges…

“My girl Nellie wore a brand new dress,

it was really might thin.

When she asked me how I liked it,

I answered with a grin.

Wait till the sun shines, Nellie!”

Superman… “Up, up, and away!” Captain Midnight, Don Winslow of the Navy, Terry and the Pirates, Rocket Man, Captain Marvel… “Shazam!”

Popeye, Woody Woodpecker, Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, Bugs Bunny, Porky Pig… “Th-th-that’s all folks!”

Previews of coming attractions and the newsreel.

“Hey, Mitchie, let’s go to the Douglas!”

“’s’okay with me!”

Running upstairs, he threw the newspaper onto the dining room table. “Hey, Mom, me’n’Normie’s goin’ to the Douglas! Okay to take money?”

“Straw’s cheaper than hey! And Normie and ‘I’!” Speaking through the bathroom door, “My purse is on the dresser. Take fifty cents and…” knowing her son, “stop running!”

Running to the bedroom, he took two quarters from her purse, closed it, opened it again and took another dime. “Thanks, Mom,” he called on the way out. “I took another dime!” Without waiting for an answer, slamming it behind him, running out the door, he thumped down the stairs.  

Below, “Oh, God!” Mrs. Kaplin looked at her ceiling. “He’s home again! Manny, the little mumser’s home again!”