Chesterton Indiana

Chesterton, Indiana was not quite ready for us and we were not quite ready for Chesterton. We were a little too modern for Cheese town. I did what I always did. I changed, I adapted. Soon, I was at all the football games and working on the prom committee and that kind of thing. I probably would not have been involved in those activities in Bloomington. I accumulated, for the first time in my life, a group of “girlfriends”. To the beach, shopping, to the movies and hanging out uptown at the park or at The Port...a root beer drive in.

My mom and dad decided to settle in Chesterton. It was close to family, something we had never been around, and centrally located for my dad’s work. My parents bought a house. A real house, on a street, with a garage and a big backyard. It was a new experience for all of us. 101 Westchester Court. A great home.

I finished my junior year with a lot of memories and friends. There was a big group of girls that boycotted prom. I can’t remember why, but we did. We had a MORP party instead at one of the girls houses. It was great fun. I also had decided to run for an office in my Senior Class...mainly because I didn’t think the other two people who had announced the were going to try for Vice President were very exciting. I was elected. My senior year was perfect from beginning to end. We had a great homecoming float, we had fun at football games and after game dances. We loved our basketball and track teams and our swim team was always highly ranked. I did go to prom my senior year and had a wonderful time. We partied in corn fields and bean fields and out at the dunes. We went to the 49er Drive In and snuck by the ticket booth in trunks of cars.

I love Chesterton still. Its changed, its bigger, it has a little different vibe than it did in 1972 when I graduated from high school. Soon, it was too small for me and wasn’t bringing me the satisfaction I sought. My dad was traveling to jobs a lot and since I graduated, and Kevin was very independent, my mom started traveling with Dad again. I moved back to Bloomington with the intention of going to college but that never really worked out. My parents weren’t of the mind that girls get college educations and they didn’t really know how to help me out with that plan. So, I worked in Bloomington, was considered a “townie” in the bars and got really tired of being asked what my major was...and grew up.

I moved back to Chesterton to my parent’s home in the fall of 1976. By Christmas of that same year, after shopping for a Christmas present for Kevin in the local men’s store, I had met Chris and we began dating. Our first date was just after Christmas 1976 and by March we were engaged, married in October of 1977. I was satisfied indeed, and a new life was beginning for me.

Soon I would be in LaPorte and in a big family, where everyone knew someone in Chris’ family. His family had a small grocery store and there were always people who commented on the store, or the lake or one of his brothers. We would ride through town and he referred to houses by the family name of who lived there when he was growing up. “The Jones House” or “The Muratori House”. It was foreign to me, those kinds of memories. He knew everyone it seemed to me. I realized how different my life had been than his. It didn’t bother me, in fact I have always been grateful for my childhood, the travels, the things I’ve seen and done. However, I had not really thought about the memories I did not have. When Chris’ grandmother passed away, we went to lunch after the funeral at St. Joe’s school. He and his brothers and sister were reminiscing about their school days there. I thought “Wow, except for Chesterton High School, and Bloomington and faded memories of the school in California, I have absolutely no recollection of schools”. They could talk about lunch money, lunch ladies and how much milk cost, what kids looked like, who the teachers were and recess. They knew the bathrooms, the tile on the floor. They had spent years and years there. It was not something I could wrap my head around. I didn’t think it was better or worse mind you...just so unfamiliar to me.

Years later, after Adam was born, I was taking a babysitter home. She lived on Small Road and as she pointed out the driveway I realized I knew the people who lived there before. Who her parents had bought the house from. I knew why they left town and where their new home was located. I was probably close to 30 years old and was as happy as I had ever been. I had roots!