Woolworth's, Pet Department

When I first came to Chicago in early 1980s there was a recession. The homeless I was used to seeing were single men and women down on their luck. But the first summer I was in Chicago and working at a church mission was when I was introduced to whole families being homeless. Often we discovered they were living in their cars. One of my first jobs was driving around to pick up ”donos”: donations, but also used to refer to doughnut donations. We’d pull up in our station wagon and load in sacks of day-old doughnuts. By the time we got back to the mission it had become one giant day-old doughnut. The glazed had congealed together.

We were volunteers meaning we made no salary. We were basically working for room and board, and the experience. Much like interns do today—except we didn’t go into debt.  We had NO money. On days off we got as token to ride the train and went to the end of the line. Up to Wilmette to the Bahá'í Temple or downtown. Since we had no money we window shopped, meaning we tried the samples at the perfume counter.

In my neighborhood there was a Goldblatt’s around the corner. I’d never seen so many bras. There was a was an entire floor given over to bras. It was like a sea of lingerie.

In cold winter while I was waiting for spring I’d go to the Woolworth’s where in the basement was the pet department. Along one wall were cages of birds. I could hear them twittering before I even reached the bottom step. For a few minutes my soul felt lighter. I knew it couldn’t be too much longer and we’d have green. Until then I hung out with the tropical-colored parakeets and yellow canaries, dreaming.