On the corner of 60th Place and Normandie Ave lies a special but haunting place.
In 1955 Charles Waters was born upstairs inside this window pictured here. Since then, his encounters with this window have been bittersweet. “People say material things don’t matter much but they do man! I was born here. My mother Ramona just decided that this is where I would be born and that was that. My dad Ron worked as a mechanic two blocks away from here. When I was completely built and ready for the world my older sister ran to dad’s shop and gave him the news that I was coming out man! He ran upstairs and within minutes I was out. You know I think of that moment and I think about the joy I brought my parents in that instant. I also think about every parent in this world and the dreams they have for their kids. They dream with the heavens, they dream big and sometimes the biggest joy for them is the moment of their child’s birth. After that we all play russian roulette. Shit just hits the fan with no reasonable explanation. Life can be cruel. There were good times too man! Dad and I had a routine going. On his work breaks he’d yell, Charley! up into the window and I knew it was our time together. I always threw down a brown paper bag with treats inside. I could have easily gone down stairs and handed him the bag but I really enjoyed throwing it and dad enjoyed catching it. Dad and I would sit on the sidewalk and share the sandwich, apple and the other treats inside, it was magic. He always rubbed my head and told me how much he loved me. When I was eight, very suddenly, dad was crushed by a car he was working on. I won’t get into details but we all lost it. My mother’s strength vanished quickly. My oldest sister died of pneumonia and I became part of the system. I think of the day I popped out of the womb and about how my parents couldn’t have envisioned this mess back in 55. Love your kids, love your parents with all you got if you have them. Peace out!