Death of a Terrorist

Osama bin Laden is dead.

We've waited almost 10 years, since September 11, 2001, to hear that.

A few nights ago I watched President Obama give a somber speech in the White House to let us all know that the terrorist responsible for the death of over 3,000 U.S. citizens in the worst terrorist attack since Pearl Harbor, "December 7, 1941, a date which will live in infamy," as President Roosevelt said.

I also watched young men and woman, mostly college age and probably from George Washington University, celebrate the death of the number one criminal on the FBI's Ten Most Wanted Fugitives and Most Wanted Terrorists. Flags were draped over shoulders, flown from poles, and waved from the hands of the crowd. They chanted USA, sang patriotic songs, prayed and shouted their delight. If I"m guessing their ages correctly, they would have been anywhere from eight to 11 years old on September 11, 2001. They've lived with the threat of bin Laden and al-Qaeda all of their young lives.

The killing of bin Laden was the news event of the last 10 years. It seemed as if the newscasters could hardly wait for the President's speech to be over so they could analyze, pull apart, and ruminate on the death of the number one terrorist. They wanted to more, down to the most infinitesimal detail of how it all played out. Journalists are still talking about the death of Osama bin Laden 24 hours later. They will be talking about it for quite some time. Now they are focusing on, "What's going to happen next? Will the U.S. suffer more terrorist attacks because we caused bin Laden's death?
I know these are valid questions, scary, but valid.

In all the discussions one phrase bothered me.

"Justice has been served."

I don't really believe justice can ever be served. Don't get me wrong, I am very glad that bin Laden is no longer on this earth to wreak more havoc and terror on unsuspecting and innocent men, women and children. However, has justice really been served? Those first-responders, firefighters, police officers, employees of the various offices in the Twin Towers, those children on a field trip, military personnel in the pentagon, and travelers on the planes used as weapons are all still dead. NOTHING will bring them back. Parents, spouses and children still live without their loved ones. The deceased still live on in memories and memorials, but family members and friends still have to live without them. Their is still an empty place in their lives and always will be.

The death of bin Laden didn't make me want to jump up and celebrate. Instead I am filled with a deep sadness because it brought back all those awful memories of a day that I will never forget. I feel a grief because from that day forward my life and those of everyone who lives in the United States changed. We live a life that has us looking over our shoulders, literally and figuratively, waiting for the next attack. Freedoms we took for granted were taken away in the name of national security. The country and its leaders adopted a "Big Brother is Watching YOU," attitude so it would not be surprised in such a horrific way again.

bin Laden's death did not give me a sense of peace. There's always another terrorist in the wings waiting to take his place. bin Laden's death did not give me a sense of a wrong righted. bin Laden's death did not give hope that this is the last time something this tragically monumental will ever happen.

bin Laden is dead. The destruction he wrought will never be.

Brides, Not Bulls

This column was first published here on April 27, 2011.
Edited versions were subsequently published, with permission of the author,
in print and online editions of community newspapers across Chicago.

Well, another annual event has come and gone.

You may have heard of it. It involves a herd of frantic, wide-eyed mammals running down narrow passageways in a city. It is fast, furious and potentially dangerous.

No, I’m not referring to the annual running of the bulls in Pamplona, Spain.

I’m talking about the annual Running of the Brides event at the Filene’s Basement store on State Street.

You have doubtless seen this on TV newscasts over the years. This is the annual event where brides-to-be and their bridesmaids (and other family and friends) line up many hours in advance, outside, for a chance to burst into the store and snare a wedding dress at a discounted price.

Filene’s, founded in Boston in 1909, has been doing this sort of thing since 1947, according to the company website. It grew over the years; and to give you a sense of just how frenzied this spectacle is, in 1992 the annual sale saw frantic women clear hundreds of bridal gowns off the racks in just 37 seconds.

Filene’s is so proud of the way it encourages its customers to act, it has changed the name of the event from the annual Basement Bridal Gown Sale to the Running of the Brides. In fact, they even registered the event’s name as a trademark. So make that Running of the Brides®.

I may be in the minority here, but I find the event undignified at best and degrading at worst.

And I say that even though I know what it is to purchase a wedding dress at an incredibly low price. (Mine just about fell in my lap, though. I was working at Evergreen Plaza at the time and got a tip from a fashion adviser friend that a major clothier in the mall was suddenly liquidating stock. I walked over to the store, found a beautiful dress and veil, and the rest was history.)

A search for the perfect wedding gown should not involve running, sweating, jostling, hollering or screaming.

The search for a gown should reflect the fact that a princess is becoming a queen. The bride-to-be should be pampered and treated with deference at every turn. A wedding day and everything that goes with it belongs to the bride. It is her day----and so should the weeks and months leading up to it.

I’d like to see a major clothier do the opposite of what Filene’s does. Pick up the bride and her bridesmaids in a limousine. Serve them champagne and gourmet hors d’ouevres. Make it like a day at the spa.

Is that too much to ask for a (hopefully) once in a lifetime event?

I don’t think so. What about you?

~ ~ ~

If you read my “People’s Republic of Christmas” column last December, you know I strongly support using the power of our pocketbooks to help keep our jobs here in the U.S.

So here is a “Made in USA alert”: The other day I purchased a bottle of apple juice. Minute Maid. An American brand you can trust, right? No. At least, not if you’re looking for American-grown apples. According to the label, Minute Maid uses apples grown in China, Argentina, Chile, Germany, Austria, Turkey---and oh yes, the U.S.

While I have nothing at all against growers in other countries---I wish them well---I prefer to keep my money here at home, supporting apple growers in Michigan and other U.S. states. So I’ll be looking for all-American apple juice brands like

Indian Summer,

Martinelli’s Gold Medal

and Musselman’s.

And I hope you do, too.

See you next week...

Joan Hadac is a Chicago news/feature reporter, editor and columnist.
Read her online at citymomchicago.blogspot.com.

Anna Goral's Message to Women Voters is Empty, Insulting

This column was first published here on February 13, 2011.
Edited versions were subsequently published, with permission of the author,
in print and online editions of community newspapers across Chicago.

A century ago, women played a role in Chicago’s mayoral campaign; but sadly, in 1911 our political involvement was mostly limited to cooking and serving the food at campaign rallies and cleaning up afterward.

You see, we were not allowed to vote. The 19^th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution was not ratified until 1920---after a political struggle that lasted over 40 years. The men who, a century ago, fought against giving women the right to vote used many sexist arguments and rationalizations. One was that women are weak-minded and would automatically vote along gender lines, mindlessly giving our votes to lesser qualified female candidates over more qualified men.

That’s nonsense, of course, and we women proved that.

Yet a century later in 2011, there is still the occasional female political candidate---usually one lacking in ideas---who asks women to vote with our ovaries instead of our brains.

I thought about that a week or so ago when I read a mailing from 23^rd Ward aldermanic candidate Anna Goral. The title of Anna’s political mailer was:

♀ + Chicago City Hall = NEW BEGINNING

New beginning for what, it did not say. Perhaps Anna’s career.

In any event, Anna’s campaign piece appears to have been mailed just to women voters. It was addressed only to me. My husband did not receive one.

The brochure features a photo of Anna and stock images of eight women dropped in behind her. The text reads, “Women know the difficulties of daily life…paying bills, maintaining a household and raising a family while working. Women are the foundation of families. Women are successful in business.”

OK, true. But so what? The same general statements can apply to men. Anna continues, “And women are often elected to government. But not in the 23^rd Ward. In the history of our ward, no woman has ever been elected to local public office. We need to change that!”

Exactly why, Anna does not say. The brochure fails to offer even one bit of criticism against Alderman Michael R. Zalewski or any of his male predecessors. Also in the “women’s” brochure, Anna offers nine things she plans to do as alderman---yet not even one of those nine relates specifically to women’s issues.

So clearly, Anna’s appeal to women is nothing more than empty rhetoric.

And that’s sad, because as a successful real estate broker, Anna could be a positive role model for girls and young women. But she squandered the opportunity with a brochure that offers nothing
and unintentionally insults the intellect of every woman in the 23^rd Ward.

The women of the 23^rd Ward deserve better than that.

For my part, I wholeheartedly support the re-election of Alderman Zalewski, a proven, effective leader who consistently delivers services that benefit everyone---men, women and children alike. A leader who focuses on what unites us as a community, rather than what divides us. A leader who has brought economic development, jobs, police and other city services to the 23rd Ward, while other wards across the city suffer and struggle with decay. A leader who asks for our vote as nothing more than an affirmation of the success he has achieved in service to us, the people of the 23rd Ward. Alderman Zalewski has my vote, and I hope yours, too.

Joan Hadac is a Chicago news/feature reporter, editor and columnist.
Read her online at citymomchicago.blogspot.com.

Chico Has the Best Plan for Chicago

This column was first published here on February 11, 2011.
Edited versions were subsequently published, with permission of the author,
in print and online editions of community newspapers across Chicago.

Like a lot of Chicago women, I'm still waiting for Rahm Emanuel to explain his infamous "tampon" comment. (See my January 24th column for details.) But I'm not holding my breath. How would he explain a malicious insult that reveals a sexist mindset?

In the meantime, I'm getting an earful from neighbors, friends, relatives and local business owners about the Rahm Tax----Rahm Emanuel's poorly thought out, hastily assembled, back-of-the-envelope idea to raise taxes on so-called "luxury" services like gym memberships, dog grooming, limo rides, tanning salons, interior design; and even possibly car repairs, and entertainment such as movie theaters and bowling alleys.

Exactly what other "luxuries" Rahm would tax is a mystery. Since issuing his vague plan on January 19th, Rahm has refused to answer questions or provide details---a devious deception-by-omission that the Chicago Tribune accurately described on February 1 as a political "parlor game."

I heard about the Rahm Tax from the local dog groomer when I took our lovable mutt, George (rescued from the City pound at 28th and Western a few years ago), for a wash and nail clip.

I heard about the Rahm Tax from the mechanic who fixed the power steering fluid leak on our used Chevy minivan.

I heard about the Rahm Tax from two tanning salon staffers who were behind me in line at the Mr. Submarine sandwich shop.

I heard about the Rahm Tax from a friend who worked a second job for years so he could afford to buy a limo and open his own business.

Granted, nobody likes taxes, especially new ones. But the reaction from small-business owners to the Rahm Tax is clearly very negative, partly because it seems so arbitrary and unfair, partly because it is coming at the worst possible time, while we are struggling to recover from the worst economic crash since the Great Depression. Reminds me of how unpopular the Stroger Tax was.

As out of touch with regular folks as Rahm Emanuel appears to be, the opposite appears to be the case with Gery Chico.

I say that for a number of reasons---but perhaps especially after reading Gery's plan to streamline city government.

Gery's plan is loaded with common sense. It sounded very familiar to me because it sounds a lot like---and I mean a lot like---the good, basic ideas I have heard for years from friends and relatives who are Chicago cops, firefighters, teachers and other city workers. Makes me wonder if I missed a Sunday dinner at my mom's house near Midway Airport. Gery, were you there?

Gery's plan---common sensical and workable---clearly shows that Gery is exactly what he says he is: a man from the neighborhoods, for the neighborhoods.

The City Mom is on board with Gery Chico. I hope you are, too.

With just a week or so left, let's all get busy reaching out to our family, friends, neighbors and co-workers in the city. Spread the good news about Gery Chico---a forward-thinking leader with some great throwback qualities: integrity, justice, common sense, and a great "lead by example" work ethic.

Let's stand in solidarity with Gery---giving him our time, talents and votes.

Let's prove the pollsters wrong, the smirking news anchors mistaken.

Let's prove that our votes can't be bought by money from Wall Street or Washington or Hollywood.

Let's move forward together for a better Chicago with Gery Chico as Mayor.

See you at the rally at Clemente High School this Sunday at 2:30 p.m.? (For my suburban readers who can't vote for Gery but want to show support for a better and stronger Chicago, Clemente is located at Division and Western.) Say hi to me if you see me...

Joan Hadac is a Chicago news/feature reporter, editor and columnist.Read her online at citymomchicago.blogspot.com.

Snow Globe Memories

This column was first published here on February 2, 2011.
Edited versions were subsequently published, with permission of the author,
in print and online editions of community newspapers across Chicago.

With all the snow upon us and everyone talking wistfully of blizzards gone by, I guess I’ll share a few frosty memories.

In January of 1967 I was a second grader at St. Clare of Montefalco School, 55th and Talman. I lived with my mom, dad and four sisters (my youngest sister would be born later that year) in our bungalow at 58th and Fairfield.

I recall that the little corner store directly across the street had no milk (because the milk trucks---like cars---couldn’t get down the snow-clogged streets). So my dad and several other young dads got our sleds and trudged through the snow to the Wanzer Dairy at 54th and Western---where they purchased gallons of milk for several families on our block.

On the way home they got an earful from several people who accused them of hoarding. Of course, if these big mouths knew how many young children that milk had to nourish, they wouldn’t have said a word. But some people just love to squawk, don’t they?

My husband’s memories of The Big Snow of ’67 also concern his father.

In January of 1967, my future husband was but a tyke---a kindergartener living with his mother, father, sister and two brothers in their home at 68th and Springfield.

His father was co-manager of the family supermarket (Certified Food & Liquors) at 69th and Winchester, just east of Damen. Dad worked all day at the store, trying to calm down panicked customers who bought up every loaf of bread, carton of milk, can of infant formula and so forth.

(And at that, there wasn’t much bread to sell because the bread trucks---Holsum, Wonder, Butternut, Naples Bakery, etc., were arriving at grocery stores half empty because people were stopping the trucks on the streets and demanding to buy bread directly from the drivers.)

So at the end of a long day in 1967, my future father-in-law (then a 36-year-old man) dug out his car in the store’s parking lot and started to drive home. He made it to Damen, then south to 71st Street, then west towards home. He made it all the way to 71st and Springfield---just three blocks from home---when he discovered he had two choices: leave the family station wagon in the middle of the street and walk three blocks home, or turn around and drive all the way back to 69th and Winchester and sleep the night in the store. He chose the store---a wise move, it turns out, because so many cars that were left in the middle of streets were damaged or ruined by city snow plows pushing them aside.

Fast forward a dozen years.

In early 1979 I was working in a Loop office at Michigan and Wacker. I was still living at home at 58th and Fairfield, taking the CTA California bus north to Archer, and then the overcrowded Archer bus all the way on its snail’s-pace, lurching, bumpy ride downtown. (The Orange Line wasn’t even on the drawing boards back then. The future bustling Orange Line terminal was a sleepy Little League baseball field.) I just repeated the process, backwards, on the way home.

Bad enough on a normal day, as many of us recall. But in the big snow of ’79 it was horrendous. It took me nine, count ‘em, nine hours to get home. The reason I even made it on the bus going south on California is because I had a friend shove me up the stairs of the back exit of the bus and she followed. The doors closed on her, leaving still many unhappy travelers stranded on Archer and California. We had been waiting forever, it seemed, and it seemed they would be waiting longer. I was happy to have made it on the bus with my face jammed against a pole and my feet trapped under a seat. The next day I made it back downtown. I was one of the very few who braved the weather to go to work. I wasn’t happy, but unlike those who attended school, I didn’t have a “snow day.”

None of this is to say that I have no happy memories of big snows. I do. But those happy memories are probably the same as yours: making snow men and snow angels, digging tunnels in my back yard up to the garage roof during the Blizzard of ’67. No, I didn’t jump off the roof. I left that to the guys in the neighborhood.

What are your memories of blizzards gone by or the blizzard of 2011? Contact me at citymomchicago@gmail.com and I’ll share them in this column.

See you next week....

Joan Hadac is a Chicago news/feature reporter, editor and columnist.
Read her online at citymomchicago.blogspot.com

Thinking A Good Idea To Death

This column was first published here on January 31, 2011.

Edited versions were subsequently published, with permission of the author,

in print and online editions of community newspapers across Chicago.

Government---especially the federal government---has a way of taking a good idea and thinking it to death.

That's my concern with the repeal of the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy regarding gays and lesbians serving in the U.S. military.

As you may recall, I wrote about DADT in my first column of last December, entitled "Grow Up, Get Over It."

Now comes word that the Pentagon will take until at least the end of 2011 to have the training materials ready to implement the repeal.

I find that highly suspicious. Training materials? What, to teach heterosexual soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines how to act like something other than a homophobe around their openly gay brothers and sisters in arms?

How about a simple "Knock it off! That's an order!"

And it should also be said that while implementation of the repeal of DADT is being worked out, there are still members of the military up for discharge for no other reason than their sexual orientation. Why is there no immediate moratorium on that?

Rest assured, the Obama Administration's repeal of DADT has not changed the hearts or minds of Pentagon brass who oppose gays and lesbians serving in the military. My suspicion is that, under the guise of deliberation and implementation, the Pentagon will try to think this to death in the hope that President Obama will lose his bid for re-election in 2012 to a conservative Republican who will be hostile to gays and lesbians in the armed forces and undo what Obama did---setting gays and lesbians (and the entire nation, frankly) back 25 years.

Could happen.

So the take-home message is this: If you support civil rights for all Americans regardless of sexual orientation (and I hope you do), don't assume that the DADT repeal is a done deal. Stay on your U.S. senators and congressman and make sure they keep the pressure on the military brass to follow through quickly and efficiently to put an end to discrimination in the armed forces.

See you next week....

Joan Hadac is a Chicago news/feature reporter, editor and columnist.

Read her online at citymomchicago.blogspot.com

Gery Chico is the Right Choice for Chicago

This column was first published here on January 24, 2011.
Edited versions were subsequently published, with permission of the author,
in print and online editions of community newspapers across Chicago.

Despite being a lifelong City Girl---and a City Mom for the last 20 years---I’ve never been very political.

A little strange, I know, in the most political big city in the nation.

But well over a week ago, I got political---at least in terms of the mayor’s race. I volunteered for the Gery Chico campaign.

It was a combination of two things. First, my brewing anger over how the downtown news media continues to ignore Rahm Emanuel’s sexist “tampon” comment.

If you have not heard: Jonathan Alter, Newsweek’s highly-respected national-affairs columnist, wrote a book chronicling the first year inside the Obama White House. Regarding Chief of Staff Rahm Emanuel, Alter had a number of observations. As reported in New York Magazine:

Emanuel’s continual F-bombing is also well documented, if not exactly surprising. During the campaign, according to the book, Rahm told Bill Clinton to "stop acting like the f***ing hack-in-chief." Even Bo, the Obamas’ dog, was a recipient of Rahm’s rage. "A few weeks after the first family got a dog, Rahm Emanuel ripped into Bo, whose household accidents were consuming valuable presidential time in cleanups." Alter reports Rahm saying, "I’m going to kill that f***ing dog." In one meeting with a male staffer, Rahm apparently yelled: "Take your f***ing tampon out and tell me what you have to say."

It’s bad enough that Rahm is a behind-the-scenes bully and crude potty-mouth. But I am truly offended by men who equate womanhood with cowardice. Does Rahm talk like that at home, to his son, in the presence of his wife and daughters?

Most women in the city are unaware of Rahm’s sexist “tampon” comment, thanks to the news blackout by the Loop media. I think if every woman in the city became aware of his sexism, his poll numbers among women would plummet, appropriately.

The second reason the City Mom got political: my increasing respect and admiration for Gery Chico, a straight-talking candidate who has more relevant executive experience, more innovative ideas and more promise of greatness than any other candidate in the race for mayor.

I have always been impressed with his leadership of the Chicago Board of Education. Together with Chicago Public Schools CEO Paul Vallas, he took a laughingstock school system and transformed it into a “turnaround” model of success.

I like his plans to thwart crime in the city---starting with choosing a new police superintendent from within the ranks and then putting 2,000 additional cops on the street. These steps, along with his plan to ensure that police receive the pensions they have earned, will boost police morale and result in more and better protection for everyone.

Gery Chico has a number of common sensical, well thought-out plans for the City of Chicago. I want him to have a chance implement those plans because I believe they will benefit the men, women and children of our great city.

And to my suburban readers, that benefits you, too. A healthy, thriving, forward-thinking Chicago has a positive impact beyond Harlem Avenue. So while suburbanites can’t vote in this election, you can get involved. You don’t have to be one of Emanuel’s Hollywood mega-millionaires or Washington fat cat friends. You can just be yourself---a nice person from Summit or Justice or Brookfield or Lyons or Oak Lawn or Berwyn or Naperville or wherever. Just check out gerychicoformayor.com and find other ways to get involved. Tell them City Mom sent you.

See you next week…

Joan Hadac is a Chicago news/feature reporter, editor and columnist.

Read her online at www.citymomchicago.blogspot.com

Resolving to Build a Better 2011

This column was first published here on January 5, 2011.
Edited versions were subsequently published,with permission of the author,
in print and online editions of community newspapers across Chicago.

Well, now that most of us have broken our New Year’s resolutions…

OK, kidding. Sort of.

It seems to me that most New Year’s resolutions involve personal behavior: lose weight, stop smoking, exercise regularly, etc.

But fewer resolutions involve social behavior---that is, changing the way we act in our neighborhoods, city, state, nation and world.

With that in mind, here are 10 social resolutions I suggest all of us think about.

In 2011, resolve to:

** Introduce yourself to six neighbors you currently do not know. By “six” I mean six households---not the mom, dad, two kids, dog and cat living next door. By “introduce” I mean something more than a smile, wave or head nod. Invite them over to dinner---or meet them at one of your local restaurants, who could certainly use the business.

** Support your local newspaper, especially the one you are reading right now. Buy a gift subscription for your neighbors. Patronize the paper’s advertisers and let them know you saw their ad. Community newspapers are an important part of the local social fabric, and they offer something important that the downtown papers can’t possibly give. A community that loses its local paper is a community in decline.

** Live your faith. If you are a believer, support your local house of worship with more than lip service. Participate in services regularly and contribute your time, talents and treasure to give glory to God.

** Send someone flowers or a fruit basket. Just once in 2011, send a gift to someone you have never sent a gift to before---preferably someone taken for granted by others. A crossing guard, a school or church secretary, someone like that.

** If you are eligible to vote, register to vote and vote in every election. Ever wonder why some city wards seem to get more attention than others? They produce votes---regularly and in huge numbers. Like 15,000 ballots, compared to 5,000 in other wards. Also, cast an informed ballot. Know the issues and the candidates.

** Support your local police. They can’t be everywhere, and they need extra sets of eyes and ears to keep them informed. If you see something, say something.

** Consider adopting a dog or cat from a local shelter. In addition to saving the life of an animal that might otherwise be killed, a good house pet can actually improve your physical and spiritual well being.

** Attend and support local public events. Granted, it’s never easy shoveling down Cub Scout pancakes, Boy Scout spaghetti, or pot luck whatever----but these are the types of events, small as they are, that help build and strengthen the fabric of our neighborhoods.

** Shop locally. The small businesses within a mile or two or your home pay local taxes, employ local men and women, and donate to local organizations like schools, churches, Little League, Scouting groups and more.

** Finally, resolve to smile, laugh and spread cheer among people you meet---whether you’ve known them all your life or whether you met them five minutes ago.

See you next week…

Joan Hadac is a Chicago news/feature reporter, editor and columnist.
Read her online at www.citymomchicago.blogspot.com

A Wonderful Gift

This column was first published here on December 22, 2010.
Edited versions were subsequently published,with permission of the author,
in print and online editions of community newspapers across Chicago.

As promised last week, I have left the People’s Republic of Christmas and will offer a few observations about my Christmases.

Here are a few of my memories. I recall my mom taking me and my sisters to Talman Savings & Loan’s headquarters at 55th and Kedzie to visit Santa Claus and share our Christmas lists with him.

To an adult, the Talman building projected everything that Talman founder Ben F. Bohac wanted: strength, stability, modern efficiency.

To a child, Talman projected one thing: big.

So it was a little intimidating walking in there---from the parking lot at the south end of the building to the north end where Santa was enthroned was almost a full block. In a way, it was like the long walk to see the Wizard of Oz.

But in the end, the Talman staff were always very warm and friendly to the kids; and as I recall, they gave us treats and probably those little “junior saver” booklets that encouraged us to save our dimes.

And the Talman Santa and elves were doubtless every bit as good as their counterparts at Marshall Field’s.

My husband recalls his boyhood visits to Santa---sometimes at the Sears at 62nd and Western, sometimes at Ford City after the cool new shopping center opened in 1964.

Christmas, when I was growing up, came in two segments, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, both equally important. Christmas Eve was when my mother’s side of the family gathered at one of three homes; hers, or her older or younger brother’s. There was quite a crowd, My grandparents, my parents, the aunts and uncles and all the kids, 14 cousins. We were very quite close in age and vocal enough to make the noise in a stadium seem like a quiet murmur. The highlight of the evening was the sleigh bells ringing (my uncle always seemed to remember to bring bells every Christmas Eve) and then the deep “Ho! Ho! Ho!” The children would always return the greeting with unbridled excitement in their voices and bodies, “Santa!” The gifts would be given out, Santa’s voice booming above the noise created by so many. The ripping of paper and laughter of children and their parents rang out. After everyone received a gift, Santa would depart, warning the children to be good and that he would see them again next year. The children would still be excited, but the end of the evening would be coming soon because most of us headed out to Midnight Mass.

It isn’t the presents-I mean socks aren’t really that exciting-that has us continuing this tradition to this very day, except on the Saturday before Christmas Eve, but the gift of being together. The noise can still leave a ringing in your ears.

Those original children, my cousins, sisters and me, now have children who add to the celebration-and confusion.

Christmas Day usually dawned early. At least one of my sisters would rise early and wake the rest of us. I remember tiptoeing into the front room one year. The lights on the tree illuminated darkened living room. Daylight was a whisper away and I stared awestruck at all the presents under the tree. The parents would eventually get up, coffee would be made and the unwrapping frenzy began. Think “A Christmas Story” times six.

After the cleanup, along with the accompanying whining, everyone had to get dressed, the youngest with mom’s help. (I’m not sure how Mom found time to get dressed.) We were heading off to my dad’s side of the family, specifically to see my grandmother.

At one point my grandmother lived above her mom-and-pop store in Canaryville. It was the coolest place in the world to me because Gram had a candy counter that featured so many different types of penny candy. It was a child’s dream come true.

On Christmas evening we would eat and then, before dessert, the presents! No Santa, but we knew he was resting up in the North Pole after exhausting Christmas Eve. I remember thinking Grandma might have had a small place, but it had the promise of more treats downstairs!

Finally, after the adults got their fill of conversation, we would head home. Sometimes I dozed off, listening, their words not really registering, just a comforting hum in the background. Family, food and living the true meaning of Christmas. It’s a wonderful gift.

See you next week...

Joan Hadac is a Chicago news/feature reporter, editor and columnist.
Read her online at www.citymomchicago.blogspot.com

The People's Republic of Christmas

This column was first published here on December 15, 2010.
Edited versions were subsequently published,with permission of the author,
in print and online editions of community newspapers across Chicago.

I wanted to write a warm and fuzzy Christmas column this week, but I got side tracked.

Let me explain.

The other day I was picking up a prescription at a familiar pharmacy. (Remember when we called them drug stores?) I was in a Christmassy mood, so I took a detour to browse through the “seasonal” section. (Too bad that “Christmas” has become a dirty word to so many retailers.)

I wasn’t looking for anything in particular. More than anything, I was looking for a few touchstones from my youth to give me a smile and make me feel warm inside. (Watching my VHS copy of “A Charlie Brown Christmas” always does that to me.)

I was seeking comfort and the familiarity of an old-fashioned American Christmas, or at least the kind I recall from my youth.

Instead, I found myself in the People’s Republic of Christmas.

Just about every item I looked at, it seemed, had three words in common: Made in China.

Let me say at the outset that I have nothing against the Chinese people. In fact, I have a very dear niece who is ethnically Chinese. And Chicago is the great world-class city it is, in part thanks to the Chinese who live here.

But I do have a problem with (and I hope you do, too) the huge amount of goods that used to be made here that are no longer. That are now made in China and elsewhere. Hey, I’m glad they have jobs----but not if it means Americans lose ours.

Up and down the “seasonal” aisles I browsed. Trinkets made in China. Candy made in China. Wrigley’s chewing gum Christmas tin made in China. Charlie Brown and Snoopy figurines made in China. Even Mickey Mouse.

At this store, you couldn’t even cloak yourself in an American Christmas. The Santa suit in a bag? Made in---you guessed it.

Seems like everyone has bolted the USA. Pepperidge Farm now bakes some of its treats in Indonesia. (Remember their TV commercials in the 1970s in which they boasted about their American goodness, and the on-screen pitchman’s Yankee pronunciation---Pep-ridge Faahhm?)

Same with Royal Dansk cookies. Forget Denmark. Jakarta is where it’s at.

So I recoiled from Chinese Charlie Brown, the Mandarin Mickey Mouse, the Shanghai Snoopy---and I fled to the last bastion of Christmas, the Lord Jesus.

Too late, sad to say. Nativity-themed Christmas cards, trinkets, everything with Jesus, Mary and/or Joseph was made in China.

And given China’s ongoing persecution of Christians (most notably Roman Catholics and evangelical Protestants---everything from everyday discrimination to imprisonment and torture), images of Jesus from the People’s Republic of China are a bitter irony.

My head started spinning, so I headed for the ladies room to compose myself. I washed my hands, threw a little water on my face and turned on the automatic dryer. A large label on the dryer said, “Made in China for the Dayton Electric Manufacturing Co., Niles, Illinois.”

That did it. I headed over to the “pain reliever” aisle to buy some aspirin. They’re not made in China. Yet.

Next week, a truly heart-warming Christmas column. I promise. Written in the USA...

Joan Hadac is a Chicago news/feature reporter, editor and columnist.

Read her online at www.citymomchicago.blogspot.com