Haley Mansion of my Childhood

It had been 45 years since I last set foot in the Haley Mansion. As a kid growing up in Joliet, the massive limestone structure was like a castle surrounded by bungalows inhabited by mere serfs who worked at Caterpillar or in other factories. For us kids, it was a milepost, a sign we were almost to the drawbridge over the Des Plaines River that led to downtown, movies at the Rialto Theater or a shopping trip to the Boston Store. Or, a visit to the library where a statue of Louis Joliet stood guard over the hallowed shelves, allowing only those without fines to exit with stacks of books. For me, that meant every novel penned by Victoria Holt, whose dreamy romances set in English castles defined my childhood.

A week ago, I returned to the Haley Mansion to attend a fundraiser sponsored by CASA, a nonprofit that makes sure kids have advocates in court. The mansion, replete with ceramic fireplaces and stained glass windows, is now a popular venue for wedding receptions and galas, but when I was growing up, it was funeral home. In my mind, the Haley mansion will be forever linked to the wake of my eighth grade classmate, Cynthia Garavaglia. I remember getting the phone call when I heard a voice whisper that, t. Cynthia had slipped getting out of the bathtub, struck her head and suffered an aneurysm. She had been my cheerleading partner at St. Patrick’s grade School. There were common experiences that would forever bind us as sisters, like tossing our underpants (two pairs each), to be dyed green in Cynthia’s mother’s washing machine. On the shiny gymnasium floor, I would try to life Cynthia as she did a split jump, her blonde ringlets bouncing on the edge of her Kelly green cardigan.

Now as I was getting my pinot grigio at the Haley Mansion gala, I remembered kneeling at Cynthia’s open casket, seeing her porcelain face still framed by those curls. I was afraid to touch her, fearful of breaking something precious. Had she lived, she might be awaiting her first grandchild, shopping for a car seat or knitting a sweet pink cap. She might have been planning a Caribbean cruise to celebrate her thirtieth wedding anniversary with a highs school sweetheart. Instead, she is a memory of childhood who haunts my dreams every now and then.