Six decades after deaths, my “aunt’s” lesson on life lingers in my memory

Thoughts of my “Aunt” Connie (actually, my mother’s aunt, if you want to be overly technical about it) are popping into my mind Saturday – what with all the mentions in the news of how it has been 60 years to the day that a fire killed 95 people at the Our Lady of Angels parish school in the Humboldt Park neighborhood.

Monument paying tribute to this day

I know just about every Chicagoan of that generation has some sort of personal story of what they did that day in 1958. My mother (who was 14 at the time) recalled being a Catholic school girl who joined other students in prayer for the souls of those – 92 of whom were students – who perished.

BUT MY OWN personal moment (since I didn’t exist until seven years later) came one summer in 1978. And it was due to my Aunt Connie, who managed to put a lesson about the fragility of life into the brains of my brother, Christopher, and myself.

That summer was the one in which my mother sent my brother and I for a week to stay with our uncle Spinx and aunt Connie at their home in suburban Lombard.

I actually recall that experience as relaxing, largely because my uncle and aunt had a swimming pool in the backyard, and most of the week was spent lounging around the pool at our convenience.

Youthful lives remembered this day

Of course, my aunt Connie was the type who believed that children should be put to work, and I recall spending some time in the hair salon she operated out of her basement – sweeping the floors of stray hair and sorting out various types of hair clips.

BUT THERE ALSO was the moment that week when our aunt Connie decided we should go out away from the house and experience something of life. The outing she came up with is one that my brother never forgot so long as he lived.

And it is one that I’m particularly recalling that day.

For our journey that summer was a trip to the Queen of Heaven Cemetery in suburban Hillside, which is where a monument to the children killed in the fire ultimately was erected – and where several of them wound up being buried.

Story of fatalities went national

It wasn’t so much that we were lectured. But the sight of so many young people who, it turns out, had a lifespan that wasn’t even as long as mine was that day (I was just shy of my 13^th birthday that summer), was a memory that still sticks in my mind.

I KNOW MY brother, who was only 8 at the time, was a bit creeped out by the experience. Although I recall him later remembering the experience as a lesson that took a few years to fully sink into his brain.

And it became one of the stories we could tell of our “quirky” aunt Connie. Although to be honest, that day was far from the most off-beat thing she ever did in her life.

The fragility of life is a lesson we all have to learn, and it is what makes us feel fortunate that we continue to live on – while trying to remember to enjoy every moment of life we have, because it’s not going to last forever.

That is a lesson I have had reinforced on occasions in life, particularly during my work as a reporter-type person throughout the years.

I’M NOW 53, and I know if I were to drop dead now, there would be some people who would take one look at that age and think I was somehow cheated of a proper life’s end. Although I have to confess to having known people in my life who aren’t with us any longer – and who didn’t even come close to getting as long a life-span as I’ve enjoyed.

My brother and I (in middle) with other relatives surrounding our Aunt Connie

Just as my brother and I got to see the memory of all those young people who perished 60 years ago who never even made it as far as their teenage years (they were all students between 5^th and 8^th grades at the times of their deaths).

So we’re getting the reports in recent days reminding us of the tragedy of Our Lady of the Angels and how the aging school building was not in compliance with the fire codes of that era (as an older structure, it was “grandfathered” in with lesser standards). We may even be reminded of the speculation that the fire was caused by a 10-year-old’s idea of a prank.

But for me, I’m going to be recalling my aunt, who has long been resting in peace along with those whose deaths of six decades ago are being publicly remembered this day.

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It was 50 years ago Monday, that kids became statistics instead of lives

One summer when we were kids, my brother, Chris, and I spent about a week away from our parents and staying with our Uncle Sphinx and Aunt Connie, who lived in west suburban Lombard.

They had a pool in their backyard and allowed us to spend much of our time lounging around it, while also requiring some chores (such as cleaning out the basement where our aunt operated a makeshift beauty shop for neighborhood women).

BUT ONE OF the moments of that week that stands out in my mind (and the moment that my brother most remembers) is when Aunt Connie decided to take us with her on what she saw as an “educational” outing.

We took a drive to the Queen of Heaven Cemetery in nearby Hillside.

And the reason we went there on that day in 1978 was to see the “Shrine of the Holy Innocents” memorial that had been erected there to the children who died on this date 50 years ago at the Our Lady of the Angels School, 909 N. Avers Ave.

What would have become of these children? Illustration provided by http://www.olafire.com/.

Now I had heard of the school fire previously. Occasionally, we’d see snippets of footage of smoke coming from school windows and some bodies being moved about, whenever early December would come up.

WHILE MY MOTHER remembers being in a Catholic school on the South Side when she learned of the fire (nuns quickly led her entire class in a prayer for the children at Our Lady of the Angels), for me, it was little more than an “anniversary story.”

Until that particular weekend with my aunt.

I recall her laying some flowers at the memorial, while also reciting some details of that day’s events to my brother and I, then driving home the point that life is not only precious, it also is temperamental.

It can come, and go, at any time.

IT DOESN’T EVEN have to be anyone’s particular fault that they were in a certain place when something bad happened.

So if it sounds like I’m saying people ought to treasure every moment they have, because they don’t know for sure how much longer they will live (personally, I could die tomorrow, or I could last another 50 or so years – I honestly don’t know what to expect), then it is a worthwhile lesson.

Besides, how many other people can claim to have learned a life’s lesson while visiting a cemetery with their aunt (who, sadly enough, I cannot share moments with any longer – she died this year during the summer)? It definitely is one of those stories I can tell that few people can match.

It also is a memory that has come to my mind because we’re on one of the so-called “significant” anniversaries to justify an “anniversary story” about Our Lady of the Angels.

THE BIG 5-OH.

WTTW-TV last week dredged up the “Angels Too Soon” documentary film about the fire and its aftermath. And I would expect news outlets throughout the Chicago area will be running stories throughout the day – reminding us of the fact that 92 children and three nuns have now been dead for half-a-century.

In the case of the kids, they have been gone for about four to five times longer than they were alive.

But when presented in such a manner, they can become mere statistics.

THAT IS WHY I dredged up the old Chicago American newspaper front page from “the day after,” which literally gives us the pictures of all the deceased children. It is a physical reminder that we are talking about living human beings.

Instead, they’re names engraved on a memorial at a Hillside cemetery that my brother and I checked out some 30 years ago.

So when some people will try to push the angle that the fire started in a stairwell would never have spread so fast if modern-day fire codes were in place, I’d argue that such an angle is kind of trivial.

The fact is that even contemporary fire codes would have had an effect – but the building was exempt because it was so old that city officials thought requiring the Catholic Archdiocese to pay to bring it up to standards would have been an undue financial burden.

SOME MAY EVEN get worked up over the fact that no one was ever successfully prosecuted for having done something wrong to start the fire. Maybe they dream that modern forensics could come up with some evidence that could lead to a criminal conviction.

But when I think back to that day at the memorial, and also look at a newspaper page with pictures, I can’t help but wonder what would have become of these kids – who by now would be pushing into senior citizen status.

They’d be looking back on their lives, trying to figure out just what it was they accomplished and could be proud of.

The fact that they never got to do so is the true tragedy of that day at Iowa Street and Avers Avenue.

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EDITOR’S NOTES: Memories of that day on the West Side will live on, so long as (http://www.olafire.com/Home.asp) the Internet remains in existence.

I’m not alone (http://www.bluejeansplace.com/OurLadyoftheAngelsFireMemorial.html) in having visited the memorial to the fire’s victims, although I did not document it to the degree that this website does. One can find help (http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=8839) in locating the graves of specific people.