Opinions

Thank Heaven for Bigger Boys



Some time after my eldest brother, Christy, had died, I was visiting our Chicago Far West Side neighborhood, affectionately known as “The Island.” A three-square-block enclave corralled by the towns of Cicero, Berwyn, Oak Park and a factory district, including a facility that manufactured asbestos gaskets. In windows-open summers sometimes the detritus could be seen floating along. No one seemed worried. It was like living in Disneyland where you thought nothing bad could happen to you.

But walking alone on the sidewalk past our school after the funeral, I felt out of kilter. I became aware of a feeling I’d never experienced as a child. I felt afraid. Alone. I no longer felt protected as I always had.

In our area, where everyone knew each other, there were many relatives—a cohort of older brothers, including my two, Christy and Peter, and cousins and other boys. Thinking back, the sound of the boys’ corduroy pants, whooshing, as they ran, was the sound of safety.

We little kids were not overtly aware of this shielding. No one spoke about it. Yet at Christy’s funeral, a cousin, Anna Mae, who was close to my brother, told me, tearfully: “He was our protector.”

I had been totally oblivious to the canopy of safety the neighborhood males had provided. The boys were simply there. They were nice to the little kids. In reflecting on all this, I looked at Richard Gambino’s excellent book on Italian-Americans, “Blood of My Blood.”

“The sons of the family,” Mr. Gambino writes, “were expected to defend any undermining of the welfare of the females of the family, or worse, any insult to their reputation, or status, this being synonymous with an insult to the family’s honor.”

This was never articulated by my parents. Yet somehow the message that boys were to protect permeated the neighborhood. I don’t recall any bullying, fights or expressed threats. The boys somehow knew they were to act as good men—as protectors of girls, little kids and probably old people too.

Walking that day past my old school, now greatly enlarged with lunchrooms, playgrounds, libraries and computers, I wondered about the changes. I hoped the new educational facilities might include something of the “old school” where boys were encouraged to think of themselves as protectors.

But who am I kidding? From what I hear boys are not encouraged to act like strong, protecting men. Too bad. The little kids probably miss them.

Ms. DeCarlo covered travel, entertainment, culture for the Chicago Tribune, Las Vegas Review Journal and Disney Magazine.



READ SOURCE

Leave a Reply

This website uses cookies. By continuing to use this site, you accept our use of cookies.