One’s mind tends to wander along interstate highways. I had a good audio book, Moon Over Manifest, which I hope to share with you soon, and public radio is worthy through Wisconsin, but, sometimes the quiet takes hold when driving solo. Odd thoughts pop in and out like songs from the fifties. Once a thought takes hold, it just seems to hang there and travel across the state line.
Nick Noble.
Nick Noble came to mind, for some unexplained reason. Not really Nick Noble, just Nick Noble’s shoes.
My childhood was rich in love and caring, good food and good stories. I always felt safe within my family’s embrace and I always felt special in their hearts. We had what we needed, and that was enough, so I didn’t expect outings and vacations and such. We never went out to eat. My father’s retort if queried was an incredulous ‘”Why would we go out to eat? We have food here and your Yia Yia is the world’s best cook.”
So it was, with barely contained excitement, that my sister and I took a little nap and dressed up in our Sunday best for a date downtown with Daddy.
I loved to ride into the City in our Chevy Impala with our PenDot license plate. Off we went, onto the Congress Expressway, for it was still the Congress back then, renamed the Eisenhower after John Kennedy was assassinated. Passing the bright, glowing, red lips of the Magikist sign marked the halfway mark, then under the Post Office building, across the Chicago River and the noisy grids on the bridge, and down into the underground parking cavern.
Dottie and I walked close to Daddy as we climbed to street level with towering skyscrapers and, the whoosh of traffic rustling our dresses, horns and sirens echoing throughout the Loop. We ate somewhere I no longer remember; most likely a deli, before walking to our destination.
How I remember that first sight of the grandeur of the Civic Opera House! The gilding, the ornate appointments, the staircase, and the sense of excitement that filled the air.
Up, up we went, to the highest balcony, an Andy Frain usher guiding us to our seats, the feeling of being a bird perched high on a limb overcoming me. Maybe it was just my feet dangling that brought on that sensation. It was a rush of excitement that I still feel.
I’m sure that the reason for this excursion was in part my father’s pride in his Greek heritage, and in part because he was always teaching us something. Daddy always had lessons in his pocket for his daughters, and they often came out wrapped in fun.
Dottie and I were then attending Greek school at our church, Holy Apostles, two days a week to learn to read and write and speak Greek. We also learned about our heritage AND we were learning how to dance the traditional folk dances. This night we would hear Nick Noble sing, and we would see costumed dancers doing those steps and turns we were learning in Greek school.
I remember Nick Noble singing, and I remember the Hellenic dancers in traditional costume gliding across the stage so far below me, the beat of the music and the distinctive whine of the bouzouki that still, to this day, makes me want to get up and dance.
Most of the evening was a spectacular blur up on my magnificent perch in the highest balcony of this most magnificent opera house. A spectacular blur of colors and movement – and of Nick Noble’s black patent leather shoes, gleaming in the spotlight like notes of their own. Two shining stars in my myopic vision, not yet diagnosed and corrected with eye glasses.
Nick Nobles shoes!
Oh, the memories a wondering mind rescues along the interstate.
Ah, childhood and the treats we were given – looking back at them makes them even more a treat today.
Mine include a visit to Don McNeill’s Breakfast Club (http://www.radiohof.org/musicvariety/donmcneill.html), courtesy of an aunt and uncle who were living in Brookfield – I must have been 11 or 12 at the time; and, a dinner and performance of HMS Pinafore at the Kungsholm (http://encyclopedia.chicagohistory.org/pages/11589.html), courtesy of my grandmother’s cousin when I was 17.
All of those people are gone now, but these memories will never be lost to me. Thanks for the reminder.
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Oh, it really does, doesn’t it Karen?
What a wonderful treat that was! Of course I remember Don McNeill’s Breakfast Club and I’ll bet many of my friends reading this will remember it as well. Being present for a radio production must have been so much fun – and then to see HMS Pinafore. I was never at the Kungsholm, but, I do remember seeing the flags. A special treat from your relatives, indeed.
It is so wonderful to have those memories, isn’t it? I’m so glad this reminded you of them. Brookfield is such a nice town. We have friends who live there.
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What a great story Penny! I love when you write about your childhood. You may have told me and I’d forgotten, but I didn’t realize you went to Greek school. All my life while I still had a Greek surname anytime I’d meet a Greek – be it an elderly shop owner or fellow college students, I would be asked “Did you go to Greek school?” When I replied that no I hadn’t, I always got the feeling my father was on notice for having failed me!
By the way, you reminded me of the Magikist sign that was also the halfway point to our drive in and out of the Loop on the Dan Ryan Expressway – I loved that sign!
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Thank you, Janet. That’s so nice of you to say. Five years of Greek school. It was such a wonderful experience. I only wish I remembered more and used it. I loved my teacher, who taught us all five years. The next question asked is if both parents are Greek. I know the look.
They were such landmarks, weren’t they? Those big, red lips. I don’t remember the when the one came down off of the Ike, but, I do remember driving past and realizing it was gone; rather like losing part of one’s childhood. I think that one and the one on the Dan Ryan bit the dust about the same time.
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Penny, I love to read memories like this one. So full of happiness and the wonder of being a child.
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I do feel the wonder of childhood when these memories come to mind, Andra. Thank you.
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What a delightful memory! I have many special family moments to recall, but I don’t have a singular moment like this with my dad, and I can just imagine how special this trip into the city llwould have been for you and your sister! To know how important it was for your father to share the love of his heritage with his two girls! And I attended a Greekl Festival this past summer and watched the dancers, so colorful and light on their feet! I was envious 🙂 I’m so glad you shared this story of your childhood! Debra
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Thank you, Debra. It is fun to share such memories. Ah, those dancers at Greek festivals. A fun part of summer; the dancing and the food. Dottie and I would love to dance at functions – still do, though they are far and few between. I miss my dad, but, oh the memories are so plentiful. He would make a game out of going to bed with a prize at the end of summer AND he would include my cousins who lived next door. He called it “beat the clock” after the game show. I think I wrote about it a few years ago. I should repost it. Sigh.
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Penny, you have such lovely and detailed memories of your childhood. It was such a wonderful way to learn about your Greek heritage. Your Dad would have been a great teacher. He found a way to make learning fun..
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Thank you, Janet. You have a pretty good memory yourself. He would have been a great teacher and I thank you for saying so. He was always making up games (and naming them) and was so good with children. I sure wish he had lived to be around his grandchildren, but, they have many stories of their Papou!
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Interstates are so good for those memories aren’t they, Penny? Lovely post.
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They are, Kate. Thank you. You know, it took me seven hours to drive home, and I was thinking how much you see in that amount of time/travel there on your wonderful island.
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What a wonderful memory to come drifting into your mind as you drove along! How fortunate you were to have such love and security in your childhood, and a father who unwrapped such special surprises.
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Oh, Juliet, thank you. It is a wonderful memory and yes, I was fortunate in so many ways. My sister and I often recall our childhood and how lucky we were.
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What lovely memories. Thanks for sharing with us!
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Oh, Joyce, you are so very welcome. It was a fun one to share.
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Oh, I did enjoy this trip down your memory lane, Penny. 🙂 It’s a wonderful way of introducing your readers to your Greek heritage and your lovely family, though I did have to google Nick Noble.
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I’m so pleased to hear that, Perpetua. Nick Noble was, I believe, more of a local Chicago sensation and he was also Greek, which would have influenced my dad. It’s a funny thing to remember such things in our lives and I’m so fortunate to have so many good memories.
Hope your sorting and cleaning is progressing.
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Dear Penny,
You’ve written about your father before. He sounds like a wonderful man. Full of life. Curious always to learn. A born teacher.
And this remembrance simply intensifies my image of him and of the love he felt for you, your sister, and your mother.
This memory is a jewel to bring out into the light and see the gleam of devoted love within.
Peace.
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Dee, he was a good man and a good father. He was great with children and my cousins all have good memories of him, as, of course, do my sister and me. We were lucky to have him.
Thank you. Those are such lovely words, Dee, especially your beautiful last line above. It warms my heart.
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I always love your rememberances — such a rich background (in experiences and family — the best kind of wealth). I’ve done a lot of that kind of thinking as we’ve driven so many miles RVing — and often enjoy that more than listening to anything, even public radio! But your great talent is in remembering what you thought about and transcribing it so beautifully.
Thank you for sharing this memory! I loved it.
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Thank you, Sallie. That is so nice of you to say and means the world to me. I’m glad you enjoyed this. Enjoy those memories of yours as you are on the road.
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I actually read this blog about Nick Noble’s shoes about a month ago and meant to comment back then. I was so surprised because Nick Noble was my father. I also go a big chuckle because I had forgotten about his black patant leather shoes and you are so right- he always wore those shoes on stage along with his very handsome tux. Thanks for the memory.
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I am so thrilled that you came back and left a comment, Debra, and to hear that you are Nick Noble’s daughter and to awaken that memory. Thank you for letting me know. It was such a special evening for me and funny that I remembered his shining shoes. My father enjoyed hearing him sing and that pride in his shared Greek culture carried through to this performance.
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