THE ABANDONED BABY CARRIAGE

Dr. James H. Turnock
February 10, 1962

            On our way to Chicago recently we passed through Urbana and decided to drive by the Illini Village, the housing development built by the University of Illinois for returning veteran students and their families.  We had lived in the village for many years.  As I stopped the car in front of our old apartment, we noticed some significant changes.

            Since the property and buildings, about a mile from the campus, are no longer owned by the university, they are not kept up as well as they once were.  When we lived there the buildings always sparkled with fresh white pain.  Now they needed cleaning badly.  The formerly well-kept lawns have a moth-eaten appearance.  The cement doorstep at the entrance to our old apartment is cracked.  In the past it would have been immediately replaced.

            Some things looked the same.  There was a baby carriage in the yard.  This has always been a normal sight in Illini Village.  Almost every couple who lived there had at least one small child.  Our little Anne was six months old when we moved in and almost six years when we finally left.  It doesn’t seem possible that she’s now getting ready to go to college herself.

            Seeing the place brought back memories of our friends and the good times we had enjoyed in Illini Village.  During those years we all studied and worked hard.  A bunch of young couples with almost the same desires and ambitions.  Our careers had been interrupted by the way – we were now trying to catch up.

            There was no “keep up with the Jones” atmosphere.  None of us had much money – the GI Bill kept us going but left little for luxuries.  But we had no great need for money.  We could afford the amusements that we had time for: bridge, outdoor concerts on the campus, movies and an occasional street dance.

            A neighborhood picnic was a major social event.  No martinis, we’d chip in and buy a case of beer.  Our cookouts featured hot dogs and hamburgers instead of steaks or shish kebab.  All in all, we had led a pleasant life in those days.  Of course, it is human nature to remember only the good things.

            The friends we knew there are now spread all over the country.  Even if it is only a Christmas card with a short note, we still correspond with many of them.  Without exception they have been successful.  In the process, of course, we all have responsibilities and pressures unheard of then.  I wonder how many of us would want to return to those relatively carefree days of Illini Village.