Ascension Catholic School: Alumni

Remember the lyrics and music to the song that we were all required to sing during the springtime? We would bring flowers to the school to be distributed in the church. It was a time when there was a slight hint of summer vacation in the breeze that blew through the windows that were magically opened after the long cold winter.

We were finally allowed outside to play in the courtyard between the school, rectory and the church. Kicking that red ball in a game of dodge ball, girls skipping rope and the boys watching the girls skip rope. It was a promise that school would soon be over for the summer; a summer that always seemed way too short.

At lunch my sister Nancy and I would walk home for lunch and in the alleys that we used for shortcuts we would pick the lilacs for my mom to put in a vase. (Remember grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup?) On the way back to school we would pick them again (those that hung out into the alley) and give them to the teacher. What a great combination of smells: the spring fresh air and the lilacs inside the classroom. And although it did not get the teacher to give me better grades, it did show how much we cared and respected the nuns. Tough as nails but each one armed with a golden heart.

Since this is the year of the cicadas I know I will be reminded that their sound through the open windows at Ascension was a sign that summer had finally arrived and school would be out for a couple of months. Time to play and enjoy the warm weather before we had to go back to Robert Hall for new school shoes and maybe a shirt or two for the start of the New Year.

It is funny how just the sound of an insect or the smell of a lilac can immediately transport you back in time. . . and all of a sudden you are ten years old again with a pack of lik-a-maid in your back pocket. Think I will drive by Molly's for a small paper bag of nostalgia. John Tourtelot '61

What a magical time it was during the Advent days before Christmas. Every single kid was excited with the prospect of a Christmas vacation: but equally important was the way in which we celebrated it at school. Each corner of the hallway had a wreath mounted about 8 feet high with lighted candles. I was in the choir and our high falsetto voices could be heard wafting into the school when we practiced in the choir loft next door: O Come O Come Emanuel, O little Town of Bethlehem and Adeste Fidelis.

The school would hold a craft fair in the Pine Room so we could buy just the right gift for Mom. As Christmas approached you could feel the excitement in the air. Walking to school in the hard packed snow and hearing the crunch as it was compressed with each footstep made by your galoshes. Getting out of school at the end of the day and walking the several blocks home to the 500 block of south Elmwood; staring at the Christmas lights and trees on every single house you passed, your breath passing your eyes every few steps. You would walk along with friends or if I was lucky I might get a ride from Mrs. O'Connor in their big blue Chrysler limo with jump seats. More often than not you would hitch on the bumper of a car for amusement. Many times I had to accompany my little sister Nancy on these walks to make sure she arrived safely; as if there would be a problem in Oak Park during those times. Everyone looked out for each other.

The culmination for me was at Midnight Mass. We all wore the vestments and we actually had a trumpet accompanying the organist. The manger was set up on the side of the church and I can still see the worn and weathered wise men, sheep and cow. On that night the baby Jesus was placed in the crib.

It is in grade school that you really "grew up" so to speak. Staring out the window or at the blonde hair of the little girl in front of me in wonderment took up most of my time. The education must have entered my brain by osmosis. But by magic the nuns did educate you; like it or not. Bad memories you tend to put away in the back of your mind, but the good ones, the ones at good ole Ascension Grade School are indelible. John Tourtelot '61

Rolling Skating in the Gym

In the late fifties and early 60’s--I vividly recall the gymnasium where we had tables that folded out of the wall to magically transform the gym into a lunchroom. They would then be folded back into the wall and SHAZAMM!! The end of the day it became a roller skating rink.

I had the fortunate luck of being a roller skating guard-which meant I had a key to adjust the skates-mostly on the girls. In addition I had the ultimate symbol of authority: a whistle. It was my job (as well as several other boys) to make sure everyone skated in the right direction and did not skate in a reckless manner. We could banish an offender to the bench for a period of time if we saw fit. We also had the best pop and potato chips for sale at the counter in the gym during the skating days. It was a wonderful place to actually meet with and talk with the girls that you normally would not approach during the school day. I can still smell the freshly glazed floor with the waxy finish. The gym was also a place for our “Fun Fairs” where there were ring tosses and a variety of games of chance. John Tourtelot ‘61

As Mary Lou McNamara pointed out- the cinder lot next to Mary Lynn Pracks house in the 500 block of south Elmwood avenue: I lived kitty corner from there and spent many a summer evening playing 16” softball therein-from the alley to the street. 25 chase and red light green light as well. Chasing after the DDT truck down the alley in a dense fog. It is amazing that I did not grow a tail from that exposure. Our two blocks were in the newspaper as having the most amount of children (over 100). Almost all Ascension kids. Also, many of the houses had if not two, at least one grandparent living in the household with the family. And everyone sat on the front porch in the summer. Great innocent times.

On Harrison Street , between Wesley and Clarence Avenues, was a little store named Wallace's, but we all called it Molly's. Molly Wallace was an old widow who owned the store, and she lived in an apartment behind the storefront. It was a small neighborhood grocery store, sort of a relic of the old days before supermarkets; she stocked some canned goods and boxed goods, and she even had a meat cooler in there. I suppose some people from nearby apartment buildings came in to buy those things when they were in a pinch. But we went to Molly's for the penny candy.

All the neighborhood kids knew Molly's; we'd stop in on the way to and from Ascension school, and trade our pennies for various little candies and gum she had on display in a large glass case. In the warmer weather the entry door was always open, except for the wooden-framed screen door that swung closed behind you with a slap. Then you'd walk down five heavily worn wooden steps to the worn wooden floor of the store, and in about the time it took to count to 8, Molly would emerge from a back door that separated the store from her apartment.

She had an antique manual cash register sitting on a marble counter to the right, and to the left was an equally antique glass case in which she displayed the candy in small glass bowls-- Sputniks and MaryJanes and Red Hot Dollars; Sixlets, Smarties, SweetTarts, Necco Wafers, Flying Saucers, Twizzlers, Dots (the little candy drops that were dried onto a length of what resembled adding machine tape)... and, of course, Candy Tabs. Candy Tabs were little rectangular candies that fit into Pez dispensers. The official Pez candy cost a nickel, but you could fill your Pez dispenser with Candy Tabs for a penny. Such a deal.

During the summer Molly also sold popsicles and ice cream bars, which she kept in a floor-size freezer next to the candy counter. The freezer had four top-opening doors, which were usually covered by little display boxes of penny candy that she couldn't fit into the candy case. When someone asked for a Pop-Ice or a Choc-O-Malt, Molly would have to move the boxes of Lik-M-Aid and Fizzies and about 4 flavors of Candy Tabs to open up the freezer. Then as she opened one of those freezer doors, the cool smoke would come billowing upward and Molly would disappear into the fog to retrieve the chosen item. It was a summer ritual, repeated many times a day.

"Thank God for the kids," Molly once said to one of the parents. "If it weren't for them, I wouldn't be able to pay my rent." The old neighborhood market was a thing of the past, and it was only the pennies and nickels of the school children that enabled her to eke out a living. But Molly earned every penny she got.

When a large, noisy group of children came in all at once, it was common to hear Molly say, "All right, where's the fire? One at a time!" And the kids would form a single-file line along the candy counter to wait their turn. Molly would carefully unfold a miniature brown paper grocery bag, into which she would place each kid's candy choices, which weren't always rattled off so quickly. Sometimes kids can take a long time to decide what's the best value for their penny. And sometimes the kid didn't know the name of a particular kind of candy-- he'd merely point toward the candy and say, "One of those," and Molly would play "20 Questions" with him until she deduced which kind of candy he was pointing at. Looking back on it, she had an amazing amount of patience.

Some of the older kids, though, would go into the store for a little amusement at Molly's expense. I remember seeing one kid go in and pick 3 cents' worth of candy, and then hand Molly a $10 bill just to watch her get flustered. Another time, an older boy kept asking for certain kinds of candy, and then changed his mind a half dozen times after she had already loaded up the bag. He also asked for a popsicle, and after she had moved all the candy off the top of the freezer and dug it out for him, he suddenly had a change of heart and decided he didn't want it after all. That was the last straw, and Molly threw him out of the store empty handed. He whined back to her through the screen door in a sing-song voice, "Aw, gee, what's the matter, Molly?" And old Molly bounded up the steps yelling, "You mind your P's and Q's, sonny!" I made my candy choices quickly, paid exact change, and left quietly after that.

I was in high school when Molly finally decided to close the store and retire to Fond du Lac , Wisconsin . A couple of the grade school moms and their kids organized a "Molly Appreciation Parade" for her before she left; they paraded around the neighborhood carrying thank-you banners and signs, and the whole entourage ended up in front of her store, where they gave her some little gifts and a lot of good wishes. And with that, our childhood had officially come to an end. In many ways I feel sorry for the young children of today -- that their childhood experience will never have included the wonder of a little neighborhood penny candy shop, or a kindly old lady like Molly.

“I have such great memories of Ascension, I know my friends do, too. I think we should gather them, share them and then publish them!” Mary Lou McNamara Kuzdas, (‘60) remembers growing up at Ascension as being an incredible time. She has a wealth of anecdotes she would love to share -- and she wants to hear everyone else’s stories, too. Mary Lou e-mailed her suggestion to the Development Office, and elaborated on the idea in a phone interview. She would like to help in the effort to gather all those stories for publication.

Mary Lou says, “Ascension is a very special place. I’ve been out of Oak Park for forty years and still stay in touch with many friends -- and their parents! We grew up with the extended families of our friends and neighbors. Our cousins probably lived a few blocks away. We learned to sew because someone’s grandma taught us.”

She continues, “There was a vacant lot next to Mary Lynn Pratt’s house on Elmwood. We played there, had circuses and carnivals; we did not have a lot of organized activities -- we made our own fun.

“We were teased because we only had three kids in our family; most on our block had eight or ten -- imagine playing kick the can with fifty friends! There was an article in the paper when I was a child that referred to the three square block neighborhood that I lived in as ‘fertile acres’! Ascension was a kid’s paradise.”

Mary Lou left Oak Park to go to school at the University of Wisconsin at Madison and has been there for nearly forty years. She administers financial aid programs for the State of Wisconsin and has three sons: Sean, Brian Boru and Conor O’Rourke. (“We can’t let them forget their Irish heritage just because they have a Bohemian last name!”)

She is hopeful that her classmates, her siblings classmates and all the kids from ‘fertile acres’ send in their memories. We are hopeful, too!

Send your memories to us at Alumni@ascension-school.com
or call Lynn Fredrick, Director of Development, 708-848-2703,
fax them to Lynn at 708-848-2773,
or mail them to
Ascension School
601 Van Buren, Oak Park, IL 60304.

We will post them on this page, publish them in the school newsletter, and collect them for use in conjunction with the parish centennial in 2007. Each generation will have its share of shared memories. Watch this page to see who remembers the same years that you do!