In the good old days, South Shore, Chicago, 1950s, we played softball in the street. We were a tiny Jewish enclave, between Jackson Park; the Irish, across 71st Street; the African Americans west of Stony Island; and the lake to the east.
The lakefront directly east of our house was held down by the South Shore Country Club. It was Restricted, which meant, No Jews Allowed. All of the grandparents in our little neighborhood, and many of the parents, spoke English with an Ashkenazi accent. All of our fathers had served in the war, and many of them, we saw at
Something to Consider
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