t is funny as you get older you have trouble remembering what happened yesterday but events that occurred 75 years ago during your youth remain vivid in your mind. I grew up in a wonderful neighborhood on West Fifth St. near the corner of Dorchester St. I remember distinctly the sound of the old electric trolleys (the ones with center doors) clanging their way toward Andrew Station or the other way to City Point.
Often the sounds of the Rag man on his horse drawn wagon yelling…”Rags ,rags… bring me your rags.”His horse was so old I often wondered how he had the strength to pull his load up our street. The affection the horse had for his owner and the owner for his horse was a sight to be seen.
The Ice man who drove his truck looking for signs in the window for people needing ice for their “ice boxes”. Not many of our neighbors could afford that new fangled appliance known as a refrigerator. It was not uncommon for the ice man to chop out 50 pounds from his ice block, heft in on his shoulders over a rubberized apron then walk up three flights to deliver his goods. While he was gone we kids would eat the shavings off the back of his truck. How sanitary was that.
The knife and scissor truck that offered to put a sharp edge on your tableware. I still see the sparks flying off the back of his truck while the women on the street got a chance to get caught up in each others’ lives.
The truck I remember most was the one that brought freshly cooked crabs to the street .I think they cost a nickel. I remember devouring them on the last step of our stairs. My mouth is watering thinking of them now.
What I would give to hear those sounds today.
No comments:
Post a Comment