We sure were lucky.

When I was a kid growing up just south of Chicago, many a family outing was spent in Chicago at the various sights and museums of the city, and on that commute across town on 94 West we passed many a high-rise housing project.

The Projects stood ominous along the highway, most making up what I know now as the Robert Taylor homes. They were a frightening reminder to me as a small child, that all people were not equal. Large black burn marks encircled numerous windows, indicating fire after fire on the various high rise floors.

In the open hallways that stood some twenty stories high, ant size children ran back and forth, others just hung from the fence covered railings, watching the cars on the expressway whiz by.

I once even saw a fire blazing out a window on one of the higher floors, I wondered what had happened, if anyone was hurt or dead, and about the family’s burnt up belongings, what had they lost? Deep thoughts for a six or seven year old, but as the daughter of a fireman many were the gruesome tales of infernos I had heard.

The Projects always sent a chill down my spine, I was afraid of them. I always wished hard that the car wouldn’t stall along this lengthy stretch of road lined by the towering buildings (as the daughter of a fireman, we were also always driving a junker car, so it was not an uncommon occurance to be stranded periodically on some desolate roadside).

I thought about the luck of birth and how I could have been one of those terrified people in the projects. I’d seen mothers and the elderly on the news a plenty saying they were afraid to leave their ghetto apartments, or get in their elevator, or walk outside. Whenever we drove that stretch of highway on 94 East or West I was afraid, and yet at the same time I could not take my eyes off of the wicked and dangerous “Projects”.

Everything changed the season 'Good Times' began. Suddenly, I knew the tenants of the projects, I knew JJ, and Thelma, and Florida, and they weren’t bad people­ just poor. They were happy and well adjusted, no one in their family sold drugs or their ass, no one in their family got shot by gang members. They were easy going and walked freely throughout the complex, and took the elevator with little hassle. And, when a bad element did present itself they faced them, brave and strong, or outwitted them easily. In fact, besides a lousy janitor (which any high-rise could have), everything was just fine.

Each week my new inner city friends dealt with school and work problems, dating, and all of the other everyday struggles, problems and events that every family dealt with, or at least every poor to middle class family.

The Projects weren’t so bad, and I was no longer fearful when we drove past them on our way to family outings. Maybe the Evans would even be at the zoo, maybe they would be enjoying a pizza at the next table, or walking through the museum - JJ was an artist after all, and Thelma and Michael were both very smart. Who knew were they might be, and it was okay, wherever they were.

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