Memories of Days Gone By…

By Ron Signore

Sometimes, memories are all we have left. We go through life, the good, the bad and the ugly, but in the end, the impactful moments stay with us. My life has had it’s ups and downs, just like everyone else. Moments of triumph that we wish would never end and moments of defeat we would like to forget. This past week was one of the longest, though in reality shortest, trips I have ever taken. The destination: Memory Lane.

Coming off a week ailed by injury, I was requested to go to Chicago to help train a new hire and be part of some team building exercises for my job. Though it probably isn’t relevant to this, I must say, I work with some amazing and very quality people. I did not object to go for that reason alone. I already knew the week would end on a serious personal note with my parents having my brother (and wife) and my grandparents over for one last get together at the house we spent the last 23 years at.

When we moved from Wheaton to Saint Charles, IL back at the beginning of my 7th grade year, we were moving from a very traditional, religious and conservative town in Wheaton to a town that was on the upwards swing of development. The deciding factors were similar to anyone’s that would make a move like that: schools and amount of house and land for the money. At the age of 35, more than ever, I understand what it meant to my parents to make that move. Growing up in a small suburb of Chicago, Berwyn, my parents saw it all. They lived in modest bungalows growing up, raised in very blue collar, hard working families. Many things we have today I realize are taken for granted just based on that more simplistic lifestyle. But this was the results from all the fruits of their labor in life. Very well deserved and earned fruits of labor.

Most of my core childhood where friendships are formed at an early age were in Wheaton. I loved Wheaton. Part of me always regretted that move because it uprooted me from many friends, and while some friendships stayed in-tact, others too the natural course of dissolving like any long-distance relationship. I allowed the immediate struggles to beat me mentally in the overall decision to move. Another 30 minutes from my grandparents on both sides, starting over at a new school with new friends, and starting over in sports/activities. I always felt like I had those hills to climb, but the biggest was very perception based, and one I am a little embarrassed about in some ways. The home we built and bought on about an acre of land was still considered one of the smaller houses. We were moving from a modest community, that as I know look back realize the population had more distinct economic class similarities as I thought, to what could easily be described as “new money.” It was visible pretty quickly that I was going to school with kids who were far more advanced than I was in the scenario of experiences that result in trouble. I also observed parents weren’t as traditional as most I knew, and money was readily available to offset any trouble their kids may get into.

I went through the coming years always having a little chip on my shoulder, always having something to prove. It is debatable if I needed to prove myself to others or just me at times, but I continued on with a sense of pride to show who I was and who my family was by representing them as best I could. When it came to football, at a mere 5’7” I was determined to be the baddest m-f-er on the field. Size was not going to be an issue. For a fat kid (self-perception in those days, I was actually in pretty good shape), I was determined to not be the slowest or weakest in condition. I was blessed to have some natural abilities in certain areas and blessed to have the ability to work on the areas that needed improvement. Ultimately in athletics, I conquered that hill that seemed so high looking up. The social factor was the lingerer in my life.

I was not allowed to do what most kids my age were doing. My parents would not allow me to go out joyriding, forget ever drinking or smoking. We were raised with the fear of God in us for getting into trouble. Risk taking in those areas were not acceptable, the reward was never worth the loss. Until now, I never really realized the ultimate benefit of my upbringing outside of staying out of trouble. My parents were thinking big picture allowing me to learn to be independent and grow as a person. These actions allowed for me to become the person I am today. It gave me a thick skin and a sense of drive to never be outworked because nothing was handed to me. Everything was earned.

The long drive down memory lane brought back the triumphs in athletics, the growing pains of being a teen-ager and young adult when there was friction with my parents, the broken hearts, the family dinners and holidays. The tears may always surface when I think back on all of it, and lord knows I will think back on it frequently because it is a chapter in my life, nay, my family’s life that is over. It wasn’t about me. It wasn’t about what I wanted, it was a move that was a reward for my parents hard work that dealt me cards to learn how to hold em’ or fold em’ in life. The bitterness of challenges has quickly turned into praise for the victories and love from the past 23 years. The four walls, brick and nice things inside the house were just that, things. The memories, experiences and life experiences we all had together was what made it a home. It is what gave us the character each of us in our family has grown to be.

We sat together and enjoyed one last Salernos and Aurelios meal and could very easily see that we had more than a house for 23 years. We had a family that was whole and full of love, and I would not trade it for anything.

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