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Eric J Herrholz

My Dads Buddies Did Their Best to Raise Me


I Was 13 My Dad Died, and His Buddies Did Their Best to Raise Me "Chicago Southside"


Growing up on the Southside of Chicago, life was never easy, but it was home. The streets were tough, but they were familiar, and the community was tight knit. I was just 13 when my world turned upside down. My dad, my hero, passed away suddenly, leaving a void that seemed impossible to fill.


My dad was a hardworking man, known and respected in our neighborhood. He was the kind of person who would give you the shirt off his back. His friends, a group of loyal and real men, were like family to us. When he died, they stepped up in ways I could never have imagined. Looking back now I see the part they played in my life and for them I am thankful.


These men, my dad's buddies, became my mentors, my guides, and my protectors. They taught me the values my dad held dear: loyalty, hard work, integrity, and respect. They showed me how to navigate the challenges of our neighborhood and life itself.


One of them, Uncle Nick Spazio, took me under his wing. He was a bar owner and spent countless hours teaching me about the "Street Hustle". But more than that, he taught me about perseverance and the importance of never giving up, no matter how tough things got. He would always say, "Life's a lot like fixing cars, kid. Sometimes you gotta get your hands dirty to make things right."


Another one, my Uncle Carl Gambino, owned a trucking business. He made sure I stayed in school and encouraged me to dream big. He'd often remind me, "Education is your ticket out of here. Don't waste it." He kept me in line, bailed me out at local precincts and taught me about respect. His hands were like canned hams and when he hit you, you knew it. Let's just say thank you for saving my life many times.


Then there was Uncle Jim Monaco, who owned the local diner drive off 117th and Pulaski, "The Frosted Mug". He made sure I never went hungry and always had a kind word or a piece of advice. He'd tell me stories about my dad, keeping his memory alive and reminding me of the man I aspired to be. He took me in to live at his home when I was too much trouble for my mom. I remember many times having to call him from a police department and like "Uncle Buck" he was always there.


These men didn't have to step in, but they did. They became my surrogate fathers, each contributing in their own way to my upbringing. They filled the void left by my dad's passing with their love, guidance, and support.


Growing up without my dad was incredibly hard, but his friends made sure I never felt alone. They showed me that family isn't just about blood; it's about the people who stand by you when times are tough. Their efforts shaped me into the person I am today, and for that, I am eternally grateful.


The Southside of Chicago is often painted with a broad brush of negativity, but my story is a testament to the strength and resilience of our community. It's a story of loss, but also of love and the unbreakable bonds that can form in the face of adversity.



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