__________________________________________________________

Even though he’d asked on the phone, looking at his mother for approval, “I thought, if it’s okay, I’d stay with you during the week.” Hoping she would volunteer, Mitchell was overjoyed when…

Wanting to insure her continued ride on Marsha’s approval, “I don’t like the idea of my daughter-in-law and grandchildren being left alone. Tell you what…” All of Walter’s decisions, large or small, hypothetically, must only be made after consulting with his wife. Myra’s decisions on the other hand: “…when it’s time to get out of the house in Peoria, if Transco will pay for you to put your things in storage till you move into your new place, you can all stay here, with us.”

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 September 22, 1961

Des Plaines, Illinois

Much as the expansion of the Village of Skokie had been in the early fifties, with Chicago’s ever moving migration to the north and west, about fifty nine miles, as the crow flies, northwest of downtown Chicago, in the early sixties Des Plaines, Hoffman Estates and Schaumburg became the fastest growing lower­ to medium priced communities.

                                                                   ****

The townhouse located at 9116 Balcony Place was the end unit of a four unit structure, giving the Lipensky family a 19x36 ­foot side yard that Mitchell would fence with chain link within the first week of living there. The far outside, southern facing unit of this structure faced Balcony Place. The side yard of the far inside, northern unit, 9116, was directly adjacent the communal driveway and assigned parking area.

All the buildings in this development were situated on pie shaped lots, giving the far outside, southern facing units larger front, side and back yards.

Each unit had a sliding patio door to the rear that faced a small concrete patio, sidewalk and the neighboring patio. Running the length of each building, sidewalks ran from the street to the communal driveway/parking area.

Stepping through the front door, to the left was a—special ordered—carpeted living room, to the right a formal dining room. Abutting the dining room was a 10x12 kitchen with built in—special ordered—oven, range and dishwasher.

Continuing along the open sided—special ordered—linoleum covered hallway floor there was three steps going down to a 14x17 den and the rear patio door. To the left of the den was a utility room containing a forced air furnace and a fifty gallon—special ordered—gas water heater, along with more than enough room for a washer, dryer and small work area. To the left of the utility room was a half bath containing a toilet and sink.

Heading up the four carpeted steps from the main level of this tri-­level, vaulted ceiling home was a short hallway. Going to the far right of the hall was the master bedroom with a three quarter bathroom. To the left of the master bedroom was the second bedroom, and further down the hallway, across from the full bathroom, the third bedroom.

Appearing to be considerably more expensive than the $19,999—plus extras—that 9116 Balcony Place cost, the new home of Marsha and Mitchell Lipensky was light, bright, airy and, once populated and “arranged,” in the opinion of anyone walking through the front door…

 September 24, 1961

“Wow!”

Moving in on Friday the twenty-second, they asked everyone to stay away until they were completely situated and “arranged.”

Caring for Michael and Ellie so their parents might have the weekend to unpack, put away and arrange, after first picking up Rhea, somehow also fitting Larry and Morton into the Buick, as requested, Walter, Myra and entourage arrived at 11:30 a.m., in time for brunch and to see, for the first time, the new home of their children.

Even though all the living room furniture was now the den furniture and the wall ­to­ wall carpeted living room was absolutely empty…

Coming through the front door…

“Wow!”

Coming from Walter, who was well known to be very stingy with complements…

“Wow!” was exactly what Marsha and Mitchell wanted to hear.

Des Plaines, Illinois

October 29 through December 16, 1961

Who’s Training Who?

“Mercy, no!”

Within the first week of life at 9116 Balcony Place, renting a post hole digger, purchasing bags of concrete mix and 80 feet of four ­foot­ high chain link fencing, along with fence posts, top rails and all fixtures needed to install a 19x36 three sided fence along with a 4x6 pea graveled dog pen that Mercy had been and was still in the process of being taught…

“That’s where you poop!”

                                                                    ****

“Mercy, no!”

Attempting to get hold of the early morning bundle of unlimited energy, “Mercy, come here!”

But in a playful mood, bounding away…

“Mercy, come on, Stop!”

Catching hold, forcibly walking her…

The side yard being slightly sloped, and because the grass was still wet from the rain of the night before, and because Mercy had deposited a fairly large pile’a poop…

“Mercy no!”

Twining his fingers about the chain around the seventy pound dog’s neck, pulling her to the pile’a poop, straddling the Dalmatian, forcing her head towards the pile’a poop, “Mercy, no!”

Because the ground was sloped, and because the ground was wet, and because Mitchell’s fingers were entwined about the chain collar around the Dalmatian’s neck, and because the dog—being on a lower plane—rather than obediently allowing her muzzle to be forced towards the pile’a poop to, “Mercy, no!” smell her poop and because she decided to back between Mitchell’s legs forcing his hands, entwined about the chain collar, to move backwards, between his legs…

Uh-­oh!

Mitchell’s feet slipping from beneath him, Uh-­oh! caused him to… flip, “Oh, shit!” landing face first.

Not feeling well due to that month’s menstrual cramps, still in bed on this Sunday morning.

“Oh, shit!”

“Mitchell, what’s wrong?”

Hearing him start up the stairs muttering…

“Oh, shit! Oh, shit!”

Sitting up on her elbows, seeing her husband as he entered their bedroom heading, very quickly, to the bathroom, muttering…

“Shit!”

Thinking he’d split his head open and brains were oozing from his forehead, panicking, “My God, Mitchell! What happened?”

“Shit!”

Seeing it closer, “Shit?” Smelling it now, “Shit?” Realizing, thinking, that oozy stuff’s not his brains. “That’s shit, Mitchie?” Marsha said. “I thought it was your brains.”

“That’s me,” he said. “Ol’ shit ­for brains.”

Incredulously stated, “That’s Mercy’s shit!” If laughter truly is the best medicine… “Mitchell,” the pain of her cramps diminished, “why? How in the hell did you get dog shit all over your…” laughing, hardly able to get the word out, “…head?”

Stripping his clothes off, stepping into the shower, “Rotten dog rubbed my nose in it!”

Hearing Marsha’s laughter, awakening, one walking and one toddling, Michael and Ellie crawled into bed with their mother.

“What’s so funny, Mommy?”

“Mercy rubbed your daddy’s nose into her poop.”

Four ­and­ a­ half ­year­ old Michael and one and ­a ­half ­year­ old Ellie thinking this very funny joined their mother and, out of the shower, drying himself, their father in boisterous laughter.

Sitting up now, “May as well get breakfast going… Mikey, what do you want for breakfast?”

“Pancakes!”

“And sausage!” Out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped about his waist. Knowing it’d take Marsha at least fifteen minutes until she was downstairs, “Tell you what,” Mitchell said, tickling both children amidst a gale of renewed laughter, “what if I read you guys the funnies while mommy’s making breakfast.”

“Yeah, Daddy! In funny voices, Daddy?”

“Sure, Mikey, just like I always do!” Lifting Ellie off the bed, patting her behind to get her moving, “Why don’t you guys scoot so mommy and I can get dressed.”

Chicago, Illinois

Working

Having a sense of déjà vu, his body angled forward, walking into the howling wind of Michigan Boulevard clutching the lapels of his overcoat with one hand, hanging onto the heavy Transco Envelope sample case with the other. This case, though, giving him the feel of an anchor holding him to earth rather than the art case he’d carried five years earlier giving him the feel of a wing that might cause him to become airborne.

Mitchell’s two­ by five block territory was bounded on the north by Randolph Street, the south by Jackson Boulevard, the west by State Street and the east by Michigan Boulevard.

“Hillhouse & Hodges, 690 S. Michigan” the 3x5 CIC (customer information card) read along with the name of the buyer and the date, type and cost of past purchases.

Surprisingly remembering the name: Hillhouse & Hodges, he thought, Hope she’s not there.

“Good morning.” Handing the receptionist his card, “I’m Mitch Lipensky from Transco Envelope and, if he’s available, I’d like to speak to Mister Maxfield, please.”

“I’ll check and see.”

Calling, then putting the phone down, “If you’ll have a seat, Mister Maxfield will see you shortly.”

“Thank you.” Turning away, then turning back, “Does Gina still work here?”

“Gina…? No, I’ve been here for three years now and there’s no Gina here.”

“Thank you.”

                                                                   ****

Bill Krupper’s territory, having been canvassed and serviced by a top sales professional for the past thirty years, rather than constant cold canvassing, Mitchell’s days usually consisted of following up on territory calls received at Transco, checking established customers for any immediate or near future needs, keeping a running inventory of stock already in the possession of a number of customers and reordering as the need arose. And, of course, sending a seemingly never ending stream of queries to be sure the customers’ envelopes were received on time.

 Neighbors

No need to worry about “Jesus loves me” songs because, with the exception of Harry and Eileen Butz—yeah, Harry Butz—whose front door faced the Lipensky’s front door, the neighbors in all three structures were Jewish. And other than the Butzs—Butzs?—the three remaining neighbors in the structure to the front were much older and were never more than, “Hi, how are you?” or, “Nice day, isn’t it?” neighbors.

The unit adjacent the Lipenskys was owned by Sam and Harriet Mayer who had a boy the age of Michael. Next to the Mayers were Peter and Katie Kronsky, a friendly, though childless couple. The owners of the last unit, depending on whether you lived to the north or south, were Paulette and Erwin Aaronson, who had three children.

At the northern end of the structure to the rear, patio ­facing ­patio, were the Blenders, who had delusions of grandeur. Other than an obligatory, “Hi, how are you?” or “Nice day, isn’t it,” they never had too much to say. The southern most, far end unit was owned by the Gentleman’s, who had thirteen­ and fifteen ­year ­old, rather rowdy sons. They, too, much to the delight of the other neighbors—especially the Aaronson’s—stayed to themselves. The two center units were owned respectively by David and Jennifer Forman, and Raymond and Martha Neumann, two young, extremely good looking couples who had known each other before and had purposely purchased units next door to each other. And who—a fast friendship having been formed—Paulette Aaronson, Marsha Lipensky and Eileen Butz speculated were into wife swapping.

  To be continued