I grew up in the 60's and 70's in nearby Palos Heights. My Dad used to pile us all into the car on Sunday afternoons in the summer to go to the Plush Horse. Both of my older brothers worked there in high school and the lines were so long that they would wake up with a start in the middle of the night and say "Can I help you, sir?" and then go back to sleep. The lines didn't matter because you knew half the people and made new friends out of the rest. Usually the men waited in line while the women chatted on the back patio waiting for us to bring them their ice cream. Palos men were a chivalrous lot.
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