by Paula Neal Mooney Whenever someone asks me what suburb of Chicago I grew up in, I can almost see the look of consternation break thru on their face when I answer, "I'm from the south side of Chicago." Thanks to the nightly news and too many rappers preaching the same litany of woes that they may not have even experienced themselves, visions of trips to the "inner city" of large places like Chicago or daring adventures of New Orleans Tours become synonymous with a trip into a danger zone. Okay, so yeah, there was the time my mom got her purse snatched. And I do caution people hot-footing it over to my "sweet home Chicago" to not flash their jewelry and be aware of their handbags, but more than that, Chicago holds so many more precious memories to me than of bad stuff. Like the guy above from the vantage point of my childhood home, whom we snapped a photo of as he peddled his old-time ice-delivering, milk-delivering or knife-sharpening services -- wh...
Wheel in the Sky Keeps on Turning...