"Oh, I do hope the weather will be perfect, not too balmy and not too cold!"

As a teenager in the early 1950s, I was living in Ellwood City with my parents and sister. Approximately every two weeks, my mother, sister and I planned a shopping trip to Downtown Pittsburgh. It was the highlight of my week, and my excitement heightened as the actual day crept closer.

The weather was an important contributing factor. It didn't matter during which of the four seasons we went -- we always parked our car on the North Side.

"Girls, we have more money for shopping because we are saving on parking," my mother would say.

We bought into that reasoning! When it was summer, we trudged across the Sixth Street Bridge, sweat pouring from our faces.

When it was winter, we bundled up with such huge amounts of clothing that our eyes were the only uncovered parts of our bodies. Even with all those layers of warm clothing, we were chilled to the bone with the wind whipping up the Allegheny River.

"Couldn't we park in a regular garage just one time?"

"We are almost there, just keep going," she would answer.

I tried to keep my head down to prevent my face from freezing but still held it high enough to keep my "eye on the prize," which was arriving at the Joseph Horne Co. I never made it there without my hands and feet feeling so numb I thought they would drop off from being so cold.

It was all worth it when we went to The Flame Steakhouse for lunch. The restaurant had a huge picture window where you could see the flames of the grill leaping so high, they beckoned the customers to "come on in." Naturally, we couldn't resist such temptation.

Once inside, we could smell the steaks grilling, which made our taste buds perk up. We waited in a long line before my mother presented a $5 bill to the cashier for the three of us, and she even received money back. If my memory serves me correctly, a delicious steak and baked potato lunch was 89 cents!

The department stores had reasonable prices, and it was so comforting to know that each department had two or three salespeople to cater to our every whim. When our selection was made, the next step would be to gain access to our cash. The paper money was pinned to the inside of my mother's blouse, as she was terrified that someone would steal it or she would lose it.

"Stand in front of me, girls, so I can have privacy to retrieve the cash we need," she whispered.

We then took our item to the clerk and it was such a thrill to watch the air-pressured tube that held our money whoosh its way across the track near the ceiling toward the office. As we waited patiently, an office employee would put our change in the tube. As it made its way back to us, we craned our necks, staring at the track, listening for the clinking and clanking of the coins.

It was also a special time at Christmas to see the delightful decorations in the windows at the three big stores -- Horne's, Kaufmann's and Gimbels. I peered into the windows, pressing my nose against the cold glass, thinking I could see more clearly.

Seeing Santa Claus relaxing on an overstuffed chair wearing his red suit and black boots, I was filled with childhood delight mixed with a bit of fear. My anxiety was settled by watching the miniature train hurry around the track as it puffed and whistled. A Christmas tree had red and green tinsel wrapped around it and twirling elves were busily pounding their hammers with unending strokes.

I thought the creative employees of those stores must have had "visions of sugar plums dancing in their heads," because the decorations were so awesome!

We walked back to the car, carrying a box of succulent Annaclairs from Gimbels, our mouth-watering candy treat for the day. Somehow, that made my tired legs feel so much better that I looked forward to the next visit to the city of wonders.

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